Is It Okay to Enjoy Your Life?

Have you ever caught yourself enjoying something and felt like you'd better stop?

Maybe it was sitting on the porch a few minutes longer than you meant to. The sun was warm, the leaves were turning on the hill, and for once nobody needed anything. Then the thought slid in: You've got clothes in the dryer. Get up.

Or you laughed so hard at supper you had to wipe your eyes, and right after, a little voice said it was a bit much.

A lot of us were raised to believe that work is holy and rest is something you earn. We know how to serve. We know how to show up with a casserole and stay to wash the dishes. What we don't know how to do is enjoy something without feeling like we got away with it.

So let me ask the question out loud, because I think a lot of us are wondering it quietly: Is it okay to enjoy your life?

What 1 Timothy 6:17 says

Paul was writing to Timothy about people who had plenty, and he warned them not to put their hope in money. Fair enough. But look at how he finishes the sentence:

"Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy." (1 Timothy 6:17, KJV)

Who giveth us richly all things to enjoy.

Not "all things to manage." Not "all things to feel guilty about." To enjoy. And He doesn't hand them out in thimblefuls. He gives richly.

The warning in this verse is about where we put our trust. The gift in this verse is joy itself. God isn't nervous about us enjoying our lives. He's the One who handed us the good things in the first place.

The good things are His idea

Think about the things that make you happy that don't cost a dime.

The smell of coffee before anybody else is up. A grandbaby falling asleep on your chest. The first cool morning in September. A good hymn sung loud by people who can't carry a tune. Biscuits that turned out just right. The way the fog sits in the hollow before the sun burns it off.

You didn't invent any of that. He did. He made a world with taste and color and music and laughter in it when He could have made it gray and useful. That tells you something about His heart.

When you enjoy a good gift, you're not stealing from Him. You're receiving from Him. There's a difference, and it matters.

Enjoying it is a way of saying thank you

Picture giving a gift to someone you love. You picked it out with care. And she opens it, says "Oh, that's nice," and puts it in a drawer because she doesn't feel like she deserves it.

That would break your heart a little, wouldn't it?

I wonder how many gifts we've put in the drawer. The afternoon off we didn't take. The friend we didn't call back because we were too busy. The hobby we gave up because it felt selfish. The quiet minutes we filled with one more chore.

Enjoying what God gives isn't selfish. It's gratitude you can see. It's taking the gift out of the drawer and using it, and letting Him watch you smile.

Try this before the season gets busy

This week, pick one ordinary thing you love and do it on purpose. Don't rush it, and don't apologize for it.

Sit on the porch with your coffee until it's gone. Call the friend who makes you laugh. Bake something just because you want to eat it, not because somebody's coming. Take the long way home past the river.

And while you're doing it, say one short prayer: Thank You for this. That's all. You're not wasting time. You're receiving a gift from the One who "giveth us richly all things to enjoy."

A whole evening to enjoy

If it's been a while since you did something just because it was good, I'd love to give you a night like that.

Make Room for You is Thursday, November 12, two weeks from today. The coffee bar opens at 6:30, and we'll go from 7:00 to 8:30 in the Youth Center at Meades Branch Freewill Baptist Church in Louisa. There's worship, a few quiet minutes, door prizes, the Joy Jar, a photo booth, and a room full of women who are ready to laugh. It's free. Save your seat here.

Come enjoy it. You're allowed. He made it that way on purpose.

Cassandra