Only as happy as my saddest child

A dear friend of mine has six adult kids, two of whom have struggled with significant mental health issues since their teens. Both were hospitalized in the past and had mixed results with medication and therapy. Although they grew up in a loving Christian family, neither is walking faithfully with God anymore, and sadly, one is living on the streets with a drug addiction.

By outward appearances, my friend’s other kids seem to be doing well, and he has other reasons to be optimistic. For one thing, he made a financial investment that is expected to pay substantial returns soon. Still, this friend confessed that no matter what else was happening in his life, he could only ever be “as happy as my saddest child.”

His statement has long stayed with me, because I feel this way often as well. By many standards, this is a season of abundance: My younger children are happy and productive, I have a job that is rewarding, and I am blessed with a supportive family and church. But my oldest son Sam is always at the forefront of my thoughts; and while he languishes in isolation and darkness, my sadness is ever-present. Even though many other parts of my life are good, I just can’t seem to feel happy knowing this beloved son of mine is lost.

Sometimes I wonder if it's a bit idolatrous to allow another created being to determine one's happiness. Shouldn't God alone be enough to inspire happiness? The reality is that my emotions rise and fall according to Sam's behavior in any given moment. If he appears well today, I allow myself a brief, tentative sensation of happiness. But if Sam appears troubled, then nothing seems to arouse any happiness in my soul.

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The Bible provides many examples of people who were deeply unhappy. Jeremiah, known as the “weeping prophet” and the likely author of the book of Lamentations, experienced long periods when happiness eluded him. “My soul is bereft of peace,” the prophet wrote, “I have forgotten what happiness is.” (Lamentations‬ ‭3‬:‭17‬)

King David also wrestled with bouts of profound unhappiness when dealing with regret over his sins, the death of his sons, murderous attempts on his life, threats of wars, and schemes by his political opponents. In spite of his success and wealth, David was often unhappy and penned many psalms describing his anguish:

“I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. My eye wastes away because of grief; it grows weak because of all my foes.” (‭‭Psalm‬ ‭6‬:‭6)

Indeed, the Bible never touts happiness as a benchmark, or even an expression, of faith in God. The words “happy” and “happiness” collectively appear a mere ten times in the ESV translation, and they seem to be used only in an observational sense—to describe an emotional state that naturally occurs with positive circumstances. People are happy when they receive good news (Isaiah 52:7), are newly married (Deuteronomy 24:5), have babies (Genesis 30:13), triumph over their enemies (Deuteronomy 33:29), enjoy good food and drink (1 Kings 4:20, Ecclesiastes 10:17), experience financial prosperity (1 Kings 4:20, Isaiah 32:20), or are respected and praised by others (Genesis 30:13, 1 Kings 10:8, 2 Chronicles 9:7).

Thus, the writers seemed to understand that happiness ebbs and flows accordingly to how our lives are going at any particular moment. In all of the references above, happiness is tied to an external circumstance that is fleeting in nature. The honeymoon ends, our babies grow up and leave home, our wealth and youth diminish with time. On this side of heaven, we are not meant to be continually happy.

How then should we live when our circumstances fail to produce happiness? Thankfully, even if happiness seems elusive, the Bible gives us better alternatives.

We can be content.

The Apostle Paul faced great hardships in his life, many of which he described in a litany of his weaknesses (2 Corinthians 11:23-30). He suffered physical injuries, imprisonment, loneliness, anxiety, and betrayal from his peers, to name a few. And yet, Paul wrote that he had “learned to be content whatever the circumstances” (Philippians 4:11, NIV).

The ESV translation describes this contentment as “the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need” (Philippians 4:12, ESV). This secret seems to be revealed in the following verse: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). In other words, the secret to being content is knowing that Jesus will carry us through even the darkest circumstances. We can be content if we know that His strength will be sufficient in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Our level of contentment directly correlates with the depth of our knowledge of God’s character, especially His strength. The more we understand that He is stronger than any force levied against us, the more we can be “content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

We can be grateful.

As Christians, we are called to be thankful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:18). For many of us, gratitude does not come naturally when we are undergoing suffering.

If our thought life is unchecked, suffering has a nasty way of taking center stage in our minds. It is all too easy to allow negative thoughts—painful memories, imagined fears, or comparisons with others, to name a few—to grow and fester during seasons of suffering.

Gratitude shifts our focus away from our suffering and toward God, who gives us all good things. We can be grateful for the peace and comfort we receive from reading the Bible. We can be grateful for the people God has given to walk with us in our suffering. We can even be grateful for the suffering itself, knowing that God is molding our character—namely, our capacity for hope and perseverance—through the experience (Romans‬ ‭5‬:‭3‬-‭4‬).

Suffering has a way of loosening the grip of earthly things and leaving us with a greater appreciation for the eternal. During these long years watching Sam deteriorate, my appetite for the worldly pleasures I once enjoyed has greatly diminished, while my hunger to know and understand God in my suffering has increased. The writer of Hebrews describes a "removal of things that are shaken… in order that the things that cannot be shaken may remain” (Hebrews 12:27). The result is that when our lives are shaken by suffering, we can be all the more “grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken” (Hebrews 12:28).

The joys promised to us in God’s kingdom will overshadow the losses we suffer on this side of eternity. Finally, then, we can be grateful that even the deepest suffering is temporal, and one day, in God’s heavenly kingdom, “He will wipe away every tear from [our] eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore” (Revelation‬ ‭21‬:‭4‬).

We can be hopeful.

In Psalm 42, the writer recounts a season of intense unhappiness. Although he once led crowds in praise and celebration (Psalm 42:4), he now spends his days mourning and crying out to God. “My tears have been my food day and night," he laments (Psalm 42:3).

Facing oppression from adversaries, which he likens to a “deadly wound in my bones,” the psalmist wonders if God has abandoned him (Psalm 42:9-10). He describes feeling like he is overwhelmed by waves in a stormy sea (Psalm 42:7, 10).

Twice, the psalmist asks himself:

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?” (Psalm 42:5, 11)

Even in his anguish, his answer is swift and confident:

“Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.” ‭‭(Psalm‬ ‭42‬:‭5, 11)

The psalmist understands that the antidote to despair is hope—and such hope must be placed in God alone. He is able to hope in God only because he knows God intimately. Even in the throes of suffering, he refers to God as “the God of my life" who is ever-present with him, day and night (Psalm 42:8).

The hope that sustains us must be more than hope in a future change of circumstances. Notably, the psalmist does not write, "Hope in God; for my enemies will surely be destroyed." Instead, he declares: “Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him.” He is content to hope that someday—however and whenever God in His sovereignty determines to accomplish His good purposes—he will be able to praise Him again.

Likewise, I cannot place my hope solely in Sam being restored. There is no guarantee that such a hope will be fulfilled, even as I pray day and night for Sam. But I can place my hope firmly in God to bring something good out of this suffering, trusting that even if my prayers are not answered as I hope, I will yet again praise Him.

We can be joyful.

Finally, happiness may be dependent on our circumstances, but joy is available to us in every season. Remarkably, the Bible declares that joy can—and should—be contemporaneous with suffering. We are called to “rejoice in our suffering” (Romans 5:3) and to “count it all joy" when we experience trials in life, knowing that the testing of our faith produces steadfastness (‭‭James‬ ‭1‬:‭2‬-‭3).

Yet, joy is a bit of a mystery to me. How, exactly, do we muster up joy in the absence of happiness?

Anyone who has undergone suffering knows all too well that happiness cannot be manufactured. It turns out that the same is true of joy. Even if we are determined to be joyful, we cannot invoke this joy by a sheer act of the will.

Rather, joy is a byproduct of hope (Proverbs 10:28) and is deposited into our hearts by God when we trust Him (Psalm 4:7). Joy does not exist apart from God. It is a mysterious gift that is imparted to us by Jesus Himself (John 15:11, John 16:24).

Moreover, hope and joy build on one another. The God of hope fills us with joy so that we may abound in hope (Romans 15:13). We hope in God, and He gives us joy in return; that joy then increases our capacity to hope in Him.

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When my friend remarks that he can only ever be as happy as his saddest child, he is probably correct. The truth is there is really nothing either he—or I—can do to manufacture happiness for ourselves while even one of our dear children is weighed down by depression and living apart from God. Until my son Sam is restored, I will likely remain unhappy for the better part of my days.

But, even in Sam’s current state, I am content knowing that God will give me the strength to face whatever grief each day brings. I am content that God will never to leave me, no matter what hard thing is asked of me today.

I am grateful for the ways that this season of suffering has increased my dependence on God. I am grateful for the precious circle of fellow parents with kids like Sam, who are now part of our lives and praying for Sam.

I am hopeful that God will give me a reason to praise Him through this trial. I am hopeful that I will see God’s goodness through the lens of suffering, knowing that none of what happened to Sam these last few years meant that God wasn’t good.

And I can be joyful because God, in His great mercy, mysteriously gives me joy in the midst of suffering. Yes, even when happiness eludes me for love of my saddest child, God offers joy.