Hey everyone, I'm Dr. Allison. Today's scripture offers us a wiser way of being human as we step into the day. It's Monday, and today's passage holds a surprising truth about joy. Joy isn't flimsy. It isn't denial. It's not the same thing as being in a good mood. Scripturally, joy is rooted, the kind that can coexist with sorrow and still hold you steady. Today's reading is from Psalm 16, 5 through 11. Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup. You make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord who counsels me. Even at night, my heart instructs me. I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore, my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices. My body also will rest secure because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead, nor will you let your faithful ones see decay. You make known to me the path of life. You will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. Let's hear two lines again. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. You will fill me with joy in your presence. Emotionally, we often treat joy like a reward. If my day is going well, then I feel joyful. But scripture offers a different sequence. If I'm anchored in God's presence, then joy can rise up even in imperfect circumstances. And we need to slow down there because this is where many of us get discouraged. We think if I were more spiritually mature I feel joyful all the time or if I just had more gratitude more faith more discipline I wouldn feel so heavy But Psalm 16 isn shaming your heaviness It showing you where joy actually comes from. Notice the imagery, the metaphors in this Psalm. Portion, cup, boundary lines, secure, not shaken, rest. This isn't the language of hype. It's not the language of toxic positivity. It's the language of stability, of being held or contained. And psychologically, this matters because joy doesn't flourish in a system that's constantly bracing. When your nervous system is in chronic alert, when you're scanning for what might go wrong, anticipating conflict, trying to stay ahead of other people's reactions, carrying more than you can carry, joy starts to feel distant. Not because you're doing something wrong, but because you're overloaded. So in modern terms, joy becomes more possible when your nervous system has somewhere to land. Let me say that even more clearly. Your brain and body are always asking one core question. Am I safe? Am I supported? Or am I on my own? When the answer is I'm on my own, your system shifts into protection mode. And protection mode isn't designed for joy, it's designed for survival. But when the answer is I'm held, I'm not alone, I have a secure base, something in you softens. Your breath deepens, your mind starts to quiet, your body stops bracing. And in that softened space, joy can rise up, sometimes quietly, sometimes slowly, like the sun breaking through the clouds. That's what this psalm is describing. The psalmist isn't pretending life is easy. He's not saying nothing can hurt me. He's saying, I am not alone inside myself. I'm not free floating. I keep my eyes always on the Lord That attention That orientation That a practiced return of the soul And notice it practice He doesn say I glanced once and now I never anxious again He says, I keep my eyes always on the Lord, meaning again and again, I come back. This is such an important psychological skill, the ability to reorient the soul, because so much of what steals joy isn't one big tragedy. It's the thousand small ways we drift. I have to handle everything. I can't disappoint anyone. If I don't stay on top of it, something will fall apart. I'm responsible for everyone's emotions. And then we wonder why we're depleted. Psalm 16 gives us another inner posture. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. That phrase at my right hand is intimate, close, companionship, not God far away watching you perform, not God holding a clipboard. It's a God near enough to hold you steady, which means joy isn't something you have to chase. Joy is something your nervous system learns to receive. So here's a question for you as you head out into your day. Where have you been trying to manufacture feelings of joy through engineering the right circumstances, through control, performance, or constant productivity instead of receiving joy through presence, God's presence, and through the many ways God shows us that we're held, through a safe person, steady love, or through creation's quiet kindness, sunlight streaming through the window, a tree standing tall, or snow glistening on the ground, the simple gift of breath. Because joy can't be forced. It's more like a byproduct of being held. And just to note something else powerful from this psalm, it says, The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places Joy is also connected to limits to accepting what is yours to carry what is yours to receive and what is not yours to manage This is where many of us lose joy without realizing it We live without boundaries. We give too much. We over-accommodate. We absorb other people's stress. We try to manage outcomes that were never ours to manage. But Psalm 16 suggests that pleasant places aren't only about our circumstances, they're also about right-sized living. A life with boundaries can become a life where joy can breathe. Some of us lose joy because we're over-functioning, we're mentally scanning for danger, we're bracing, anticipating, fixing, but Psalm 16 offers a different posture. My body also will rest secure, not because nothing is hard, but because God is near and because you know how to live within the boundary lines of your capacity. As we close today, notice what is an emotion that is closest to the surface? What one thing have you been trying to solve or control? If you imagine God at your right hand, close, steady, what softens in you? What is one boundary line you need to honor today? a limit, a no, a release. As you step into your day, may you sense God at your right hand, close, steady, and kind. May your body soften where it has been bracing. May you release what was never yours to carry. May you honor your boundary lines with wisdom. And may you be filled with a joy that is rooted, not rushed, joy that rises in the presence of love. Thank you for joining me today. I can't wait to meet you here tomorrow.
