The Slow Way: Joy is a Practice (More Thoughts On Pleasure)

God has made us pleasure-seekers, which means that true pleasure, good pleasure, must align itself as God’s good vision of the world. In other words, true pleasure must be lead to mutual flourishing.

for the frantic strivers, serial doers, and weary achievers

My anxiety around this election kicked into full swing this week. Beyond Trump’s consistent mockery of individuals and groups of marginalized people (his recent jokes comparing Kamala to people with “mental disabilities” and his recent use of the “r-word” still makes me livid), I’m most terrified of the former president’s fascist tendencies, his recent statements about employing the military against Americans he considers his opponents, and this week’s report from his former chief of staff John Kelly about his lack of “a fundamental understanding of basic American values and what being president is about.” I’m awake at night worrying about the possibility of a president who has already shown us that he will disregard parts of the US Constitution in favor of power. And at the same time, I know there are people also up at night because they fear the election of Kamala (whose victory would offer me deep relief). I’m worried about the encounters I’ve had with folks in the Down syndrome community online who told me they’ll take Trump’s mockery over Kamala’s desire to “kill all babies with Down syndrome.” (An idea based on nothing but her support of abortion access for women.) I am living in a country divided by two highly different experiences of truth. I’m worried about what those two different experiences of truth will do to the practice of democracy. I’m worried for my kids and the nation they will inherit. 

Yesterday during my morning sit I read through one of the October reflections from Bonnie Smith Whitehouse’s Seasons of Wonder, a year long devotional that I’ve been enjoying. The entry I read was about lament, the practice of grieving and raging against the pain in the world. She encouraged her readers to pray through a Psalm of Lament. I read Psalm 10: Why, Lord, do you stand far off?, I prayed. Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?

I prayed about my constant vibrating unease, my fears of Trump being elected, as well as my worry that Trump will lose and then claim election fraud (leading to more violence). I prayed about the North Korean troops that recently arrived in Russia and what that might mean for Ukraine. I prayed about those suffering in Lebanon and Gaza. How long, Lord? Why?

In 2016 I expressed many of the same concerns about Trump. I spoke loudly and often online about my concerns. And still people I loved, people I trusted, voted for him. I felt shaken and confused. This week on Saved By The City, my friend Jayne Sugg described her experience when her faith, which had once felt so secure, fell out from under her. It was as if she were on a boat in the ocean and awoke to the expanse of the sea on all sides. Her boat was gone. Would she float or drown?

What can we do when the world is chaotic and unsafe, when our boat is no longer there, or no longer trustworthy? What can we do when we long to set things right and don’t know where to begin? 

Another thing happened yesterday. I woke up to a text from my friend Liz in San Francisco. She felt the nudge to send me “Don’t Hesitate,” a poem from Mary Oliver:

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,

Don’t hesitate. Give in to it. . .

We are not wise, and not very often /

kind. And much can never be redeemed.

Give into it. Give into joy. 

This has been a theme around here this fall. That’s because it’s been a theme in my life. There is so much to lose, so much to be afraid of, so much to grieve. And for those of us who long to follow the way of Jesus, we cannot hide our faces from the pain. We must not pretend. The way to the abundant life Jesus spoke of must be discovered in the midst of our fears and grief. We must walk authentically through the world’s reality, buoyed in that endless ocean with true and pleasurable joy.

There’s that word pleasure again, making us all feel uncomfortable. Stick with me.

So how do we continue to hold goodness and truth and hope when it feels like the world is laboring for breath? When we feel surrounded by ocean without a boat? The Christian faith teaches us the beautiful connection between lament and joy. As Oliver wrote, perhaps joy “is [life’s] way of fighting back.” So how do we allow joy to fight back against our fears and all we grieve? How do we cling to joy?

Two weeks ago, I responded to an interview between Kate Bowler and Greg Boyle, in which he shared about his work with folks recovering from gang violence and drug addiction. Boyle maintained that his life was full of joy. He insisted that a life of service can be joyful, and that “everyone can inhabit [joy] in a mutually exquisite way. Here’s what I wrote in response to Boyle’s interview: “A person who practices care for others, motivated by authentic joy, will become a transforming and non-anxious presence no matter how much pain continues to exist around them.” 

This week I listened to another interview between Krista Tippet and activist and writer adrienne maree brown, who uses the phrase “pleasure activism.” In her book by the same name, she asks the question, particularly to those who have experienced oppression: “What would happen if we aligned with a pleasure politic?” What if the work of activism was to “create more room for joy, wholeness, and aliveness (and less room for oppression, repression, self-denial and unnecessary suffering) in your life?”

True pleasure is not scarce and never leads to disconnection.

I believe there are two reasons we Christians feel uncomfortable with the idea of seeking pleasure for the sake of mutual joy and flourishing. First, we view pleasure with eyes of scarcity. We see this most often in the conversation around sex inside the Church.

When we fear that there is not enough pleasure to go around, we avoid it. (Or at least pretend to avoid it.) This is most prevalent in hand-wringing conversations around sex in the Church. If, as we have been led to believe, sexual pleasure is an individual act which hurts others, then it must not be good. But I’m pretty sure the problem is not pleasure, it’s the unbalanced pursuit of pleasure or distraction at the cost of another. Most often in the Church, our examples of sexual pleasure are unbalanced: Pornography isn’t harmful because of pleasure, it’s harmful because it most often exists through the manipulation and misuse of women, and it rarely leads to mutual joy. It leads to sexual disconnection and loneliness.

We are the recipients of a long pattern of disconnection in the Church, a long pattern of women taught to submit to their husband’s sexual whims, whether or not they experience pleasure, resulting in women who have disconnected from their bodies at the expense of their own wholeness and joy, and the wholeness and joy of their partners who have missed out on mutual connection and flourishing. We have watched as faith leaders, repressing their need for real pleasure, turn instead to sexual manipulation and abuse. If sex is meant for mutual joy, it must include mutual pleasure. If it hurts others, it is not pleasure, because God-given pleasure leads to mutual flourishing. 

True pleasure must be mutual.

Pleasure also appears problematic because we think of it as a short-term hit of ease or distraction from life. We think of it as the misuse of substances or food. This idea is that pleasure is self-comfort that leads to self-interest. It is a notion of pleasure seeking that leads to the failure to care for those around us, soothing ourselves at the expense of those we are called to love. 

But I want us to consider this: God has made us pleasure-seekers, which means that true pleasure, good pleasure, must align itself as God’s good vision of the world. In other words, true pleasure makes the world better. True pleasure must be mutual. It cannot be abusive, whether to another, ourselves, or a group of people. True pleasure is not self-soothing behavior that distracts for a time but doesn’t lead to deep and sustaining joy. If it hurts us or another person, if it doesn’t lead to deeper, reciprocating relationship, if it distracts us from the needs of others, it is not true pleasure. True pleasure—joy as a practice—is not a feeling we chase. It is not exclusive. My getting joy doesn’t take joy from you. 

True pleasure is basic.

Here’s the other reason we push back on the idea of pleasure leading to mutual joy: Often we fail to see how real pleasure—joy—is basic. It’s ordinary. We are created for simple joy. And if there is enough to go around, it must be ordinary. Joy that is sought through indulgent consumption most often leads to scarcity. If there is not enough to go around, it’s not joy. If we seek it through greed, it’s not joy. True pleasure is found in the small goodnesses of life. It’s not a privilege set aside for the wealthy; it’s available to all. When am I at peace? When am I pleased? I am pleased when I walk in the sunshine, when I have a good conversation with a friend, when I hug my children, when I have eaten good food and connected with people I love. I am pleased when I am creative, when I’ve read good words, when I’ve helped someone, when I’ve offered compassion. I am pleased when I feel seen and known by my husband. I am pleased when I’ve exercised, when I’ve used my body in a way that reminds me I’m strong. 

Pleasure is a practice precisely because it is ordinary. There are flashier feelings of distraction, more extreme versions of self-soothing, but our litmus test should be this: Does it lead to the flourishing of myself and others? Does it add to the goodness of the world? Does it bring joy in the midst of suffering? 

Of course it’s basic. And most often basic is exactly what we need.

Why do we experience burnout in doing good? Why do we give up on the possibility of the dream of God? Why do we end up seeking self-comfort (which is not the same as pleasure, or joy) at the expense of those we love? It’s when, in our fear, we find ourselves panicking in a wide ocean with no boat. Jesus, in his wisdom, came teaching, healing, taking time for silence and prayer, and also? Eating and drinking with those who were never seen as acceptable. Pleasure. Joy. He showed us how to serve from a place of wholeness, and how to, in Mary Oliver’s words, give into joy. He did this in the midst of rejection, sorrow, and being misunderstood. His pleasure led to more pleasure. It was self-giving and it was good. 

This is the faith we’ve been given: In the midst of pain, in the middle of our anger and fear, when the boat falls out from under us, we are invited to the sacred work of seeking the mutual flourishing of one another. And I am convinced we find that through pleasure, choosing wholeness and aliveness for one another, joy that is abundant. This is the way of Jesus, a practice of delighting in the world, in the people we love. 

A Slow Practice

If joy is a practice, and true pleasure leads to mutual flourishing, then let’s practice the presence of God by seeking authentic pleasure this week. 

Start by writing down five simple things that please you, that bring you joy. Here are my examples:

• Drinking coffee in the morning before everyone else wakes up

• Reading on the porch

• Working in my garden

• Walking with a friend

• Watching a show with my family on the couch

Once you’ve written down your list, open yourself up to the presence of God, focusing on one practice of pleasure you will commit to for the next week. Choose what you can practice daily, and consider how you will do so intentionally, in the presence of God. 

Do something to mark that commitment. Maybe you’ll want to tell a friend or partner. Maybe you’ll want to put a sticky note on the fridge. Whatever it is, make a commitment to make space for that practice of joy on a daily basis. As you intentionally give yourself time and space for it, pay attention to what results from that practice. 

A List of Things:

• My friend Alicia Divers, a spiritual director and somatics practitioner, is offering an in person and virtual four-week somatics class. If you’re like me, you may be new to somatics (a therapeutic practice that nourishes the body-soul connection). This class will be a perfect introduction for you, and if you’re a reader of The Slow Way, I think it will be up your alley. It’s called “Anchored Within: Embodying Calm and Action through Somatic Practice.” Find out more here.  

• Events coming up: 

  • I’ll be in Amarillo, Texas at Central Church of Christ speaking at their Faith Forum Nov. 3 on “Redefining Blessed.” 

  • I’ll be with The Lucky Few podcast for a live podcast event at the National Down Syndrome Society’s Adult Summit in Orange County, CA November 14-16!

• As always, my new book Blessed Are The Rest of Us is available wherever books are sold, but you can find at 40% off the price of other booksellers at BakerBookHouse. Just use the code SLOWWAY at checkout.