Honk if you're happy

By Jeff Long

The title to this column, if the editor who vets my missive was kind enough to use the one I suggested, was also seen at the corner of Broadway and Clark streets in Cape this past week. The message was on a chalkboard at knee-level and despite my increasingly poor eyesight, it was easy to read.

Immediately, without any deliberation, my hand went to my car horn and pressed. Now, why did I do that?

Happiness is a transitory condition. It comes and goes. It's not the goal of life; it's a byproduct emanating from moment-by-moment circumstances. In my case, I was listening to a book on CD about President Ulysses Grant and was enjoying it thoroughly when the sign was spotted. Hand to the horn, the honk was made. A few minutes later, my equilibrium was disrupted when a speeding motorist made an ill-advised swerve into my lane. In the interests of transparency, a few words I've never spoken in worship left my lips at that moment. Forgive me for not elaborating further. Bottom line: happiness evaporated.

In John Irving's 1985 novel, "The Cider House Rules," the protagonist declares that happiness is overrated. It's much more important, he suggests, to be useful.

The Bible never makes happiness a goal. Not even once. Over and over again, the admonition from the Scriptures is to be faithful. Hold true to promises made and vows taken, keep your word, be faithful. The Marines use Latin to say the same thing: Semper fi, which is short for semper fidelis -- always faithful. It is from faithfulness, the knowledge that your word is your bond, that you've made commitments and honored them, that the oaths you swore have been upheld, that happiness may spring. Always a byproduct. Never a goal.

A week ago today, I sat in worship at New Salem United Methodist Church in Daisy and saw happiness on display. A couple came to the front of the chancel in recognition of a 60th wedding anniversary. After the congregation applauded their achievement, the husband hesitated, looked at the worship leader, and said, "I believe we're going to sing." His wife deposited herself at the piano and joined him for a rendition of the John Stallings hymn, "Learning to Lean."

The joy I can't explain fills my heart,

Since the day I made Jesus my king.

His blessed Holy Spirit is leading my way,

He's teaching and I'm learning to lean.

I'm learning to lean, learning to lean,

Learning to lean on Jesus.

Finding more power than I'd ever dreamed,

I'm learning to lean on Jesus.

In watching that couple sing, it occurred to me that not only were they leaning on Jesus but also on each other. Not every moment has been happy in reaching their diamond jubilee. Life happens. We can be sure that the unimaginable will occur sometime. But they hung in there with one another through all of it. Faithfulness to one another, the worthy goal, results in the byproduct, moments of happiness -- one of which occurred behind a spinet piano at a small church in rural Cape County. Those of us present last Sunday at New Salem got to witness, vicariously, two people who kept their word.

Moments of happiness are to be celebrated but don't depend on them.

I don't recall ever telling either one of my adult daughters, "I just want you to be happy." I desire much more for each of them: Fulfillment, the awareness of solid family bonds, the conviction that there is a God who loves them more than they can ever dare hope or imagine, the belief that heaven is coming.

If my kids experience those things, then, I'd be -- no, not happy -- but pleased and grateful.