Joy (360) for Optimists, Pessimists & Realists Guest Post by Aleah Marsden




It’s rare I’m able to meet other bloggers and writers IRL, but last fall, my friend and fellow Redbud sister Aleah Marsden was speaking at a church minutes away.  I knew I HAD to seize the opportunity meet her IRL and hear her speak. Her blog, Depth of Riches,  had already won my heart over, but hearing her speak just as authentically as she writes was balm for my soul.  I am THRILLED to introduce you to her work and hope you take a moment to stop by her site Depth of Riches to check out her other encouraging words!

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I saw a motivational poster once that had a cartoon of three glasses half filled with a yellow liquid. The first glass smiled and said, “I’m half full!” The title beneath this glass read Optimist. The second glass looked glum and said, “I’m half empty.” The title below read Pessimist. The third glass raised its fist and shouted, “I think this is piss!” Its title read: Realist.

Not only did I find the poster hilarious, but I think it pretty well captures how I often see myself in the grand scheme of things. I am not easily impressed, but I’m also not necessarily a person who feels like I’m a victim. I tend to just think everything is a mess, so I like to give a voice to the hard stuff. To maybe even give it a little tragic beauty. Then I move on, cautiously optimistic at best, trying to enjoy the good I can find while simultaneously aware that it could (and likely will) disappoint me in the end. I live somewhere on the spectrum between Mary Sunshine and Debbie Downer, careful to not closely associate myself with either camp.

Is joy something only the optimists have access to, with their wide smiles and knack of finding goodness everywhere? It would seem by definition there’s not much joy to be found by pessimists. What about for a self-proclaimed realist like me? (Although, skeptic is probably a better term.) I tend to lurk in the optimists’ shadows, drawn to the light but afraid to be fully exposed by it. I do not want to look like a fool rushing to something (even something I desire) that will prove to be just a mirage.

Paul writes in Philippians that he will rejoice because he knows that everything he’s going through will turn out for his deliverance. It is his eager expectation and hope that he will not be at all ashamed… (paraphrase Philippians 1:18-20). How does he state something in such decided terms that by any measure of his current circumstance seems unlikely?

Currently, I’m a stay at home mom who likes to pull out the title writer or teacher or leader every once in a while to see how it fits. That’s a pretty far cry from Paul being persecuted and imprisoned. Surely if anyone has right to be bravely bearing the tragic beauty of his mess it’s him. And yet, here he is looking it square in the face and saying, “I will rejoice.”

Maybe Paul is braver than I. Or maybe he just has more faith. Very likely both. What I learn about joy from him in this instance though, is that joy is there: I just need to adjust my focus to see it. I need to zoom out on the snapshot of my life in the current frame to allow for a more comprehensive picture.

He admits, in the verses that follow his claim of impending deliverance, that he struggles with the desire to want to die and be with Christ versus to continue living and laboring fruitfully. Here is the perspective that I need to find the fuzzy, elusive joy tucked into all the corners of my day: For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain (Philippians 1:21). When Paul says he expects and hopes to not be put to shame, it’s not that he knows he will experience happiness and fulfillment. He isn’t saying that he knows it will get easier or more fun or even that he’s entitled to success in his pursuits eventually. Paul does not rejoice in the hope of his future accomplishments. He rejoices that he gets to play a part in what Christ is accomplishing, no matter how that plays out in his life.

When I tightly focus in on the nuance of every disappointing shadow that is being cast across my landscape, I miss the sun shining above me. When I continue to mistrust the what-ifs always beyond the next bend in my path, my caution will slow me down until I’m not even running in this race anymore. It’s time to run freely without fear of looking like a fool. I’ve never run this path before, but Paul reminds me where it ends up: with Christ.

Maybe it’s lemonade in those cups after all.


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Aleah Marsden is a stay at home mom of four who wakes up at 5am to study the Bible and write because she discovered physical exhaustion is more manageable than emotional exhaustion (i.e. consumes copious amounts of coffee). She writes and speaks about life, faith, calling and Bible study. Aleah blogs at Connect with her on Twitter or Instagram: @marsdenmom Member of Redbud Writers Guild.


3 responses to “Joy (360) for Optimists, Pessimists & Realists Guest Post by Aleah Marsden

  1. Your thoughtful conversation with your competing tendencies draws me into Peacequility. You seem much more normal to me than St. Paul does. In fact, you make me want to re-think or re-imagine that personality that dominates our concept of what it means to “follow Jesus.” The Pauline life is not for the frail of body or faint of heart! But as “life writ large” Paul’s journey gives the rest of us a handle on how to meet tough situations when they arise. I am still learning to thank God in all things, but it is such a useful “rule of thumb” I keep at it. I need to be more than “cautiously optimistic” to meet the very difficult challenges in my life. I have to know where God wants things to be heading so I can direct all of my limited resources towards those ends. A kind of peace comes from expecting God to accomplish those things He has promised despite all appearances to the contrary. And I think that even the little I have to offer will be enough for God to work with: the mustard seed of faith. I think you have phrased that beautifully: “He gets to play a part in what Christ is accomplishing, no matter how that plays out in his life.” So maybe we are more like Paul than we imagined?

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