Sometimes the tape in my head gets stuck on the idea that my praise and God’s nearness are both dependent on my joy.

It’s a problematic way of thinking especially in a unexpectedly prolonged season of confusion and hurt. A season where I find myself turning to God only to swiftly turn on my heel and bury myself in some other distraction, disheartened that all I have to offer Him is my frustration. And I see how continuing in that pattern has the potential to completely erode my relationship with Him, the One who sees and loves me most.

But the God who etched the longing for joy into my being, continues to be loving and faithful even when, no, especially when, I offer up my frustrated, broken heart. And that knowledge is teaching me that my praise doesn’t need to dry up just because happiness is hard to come by.

I can still count blessings when tears leak unbidden. I can still marvel at the beauty of a sunset with a chest pressed heavy. I can still be overwhelmed by God’s goodness even as I am overwhelmed by disappointment.

And I can call it joy when in the absence of mine He draws nearer still.