My middle name is Joye (pronounced joy), but that’s not where this blog’s title comes from, not really.  Actually, this blog’s title comes from something that happened two decades after I received my middle name.

By the end of my sophomore year of college, I was convinced that Joye was a misnomer.  I won’t bore you with details (this post is going to be pretty long anyway), but I can guarantee that my thoughts, attitudes, and spiritual walk were the opposite of joyful.  In contrast, I was guarded and distant.

Despite this melancholy attitude, I decided that I wanted to spend the summer after my sophomore year working for Pine Cove’s Camp in the City.  I saw this job as an opportunity to travel the Southeast and get paid for using my amateur photography skills.  I thought that I would make some money, have some fun, and learn a little bit about photography.  I knew that I would like the job, but I didn’t know that God would use that summer (and the two following summers) to mend my brokenness.

For those of you who don’t know about Camp in the City, here’s a brief overview.  A team of 30ish college students pack everything that you need for camp into 2 dually trucks, a mid-sized bus, and a mini van.  One truck pulls a trailer with additional supplies, and the other truck pulls a eurobungee and a rock-climbing wall.  The four vehicles drive to different churches in the southeast where they set up camp for one week before moving to the next church.  Due to the nomadic style of this camp, the staff live with different host families each week.

During the second week of camp, two other female staffers and I stayed with the Hazens in Brentwood, TN.  The Hazens were the best host family ever.  They treated me and the two other girls as if we were their own daughters.  We played board games, teased each other, and ate ice cream every night.

The best thing about staying with the Hazens, however, was dinner on Friday night. While we ate, Mr. and Mrs. Hazen “spoke life” into us (sorry, that’s a Pine Cove phrase, but I can’t think of another way to say it). Honestly, I didn’t know what they could possibly say good about me, and I was worried that they would have to make something up so that I wouldn’t feel bad after they praised the other two girls for being bubbly and energetic and dedicated.  Then Mrs. Hazen said the words that I never expected to hear: “You serve with so much joy.”

I cried.  I am not kidding;  I cried. 

Me?  Joyful? She must be confused.

But as I reflected on the week, I realized that she was right.  I had served with joy.  With a smile on my face, I had taken pictures on kids on the eurobungee, danced during “Club,” and jumped in the gauntlet (someday I’ll write a Pine Cove dictionary for you).  It had been one of the best weeks of my life, and I had spent it serving others.

Those weeks of service brought me so much joy, in fact, that I returned for a second summer of Camp in the City before working at the Woods where I learned to “serve the families’ socks off.”

During my three summers at Pine Cove, I realized that I have the most joy when I am serving Jesus.  And that joy is why I am going to Spain.  And that joy is where the title of this blog originated (so it’s not from my middle name, not really).