Scripture can be found here…
Long before the first Sunday in Advent, the preachers were talking amongst themselves, and the talk went something like this:
“No ADVENT policing this year!”
“Yeah! Let everyone sing Christmas carols all throughout December!”
“Absolutely! GRAB ALL THE JOY YOU CAN!”
The consensus was: in a year like 2020, so filled with terribleness, sorrow, and loss, everyone is in great need of joy. Let the Christmas carols commence!
So I’m curious: Where are you finding joy right now? Feel free to type your answers into the comments in our Facebook group if you like.
Here’s one place I’ve found joy recently: Books. Really absorbing ones, with stories that take me far away. Our church book group is largely responsible for this!
Here’s another: I’d been walking mostly in the morning, and recently I’ve taken a few late afternoon walks, ending just about dusk. I love walking in the cold, watching the changes in the sky, and then returning to a cozy, well-lit house.
How about you? Is Christmas music giving you joy, or driving you crazy? Are you enjoying decorating? Doing more than usual? Less than usual?
Where are you finding joy?
I believe it’s possible to find joy in most circumstances. That’s the distinction between joy and happiness. Happiness comes from the outside. It reflects something that happens to us—it’s circumstance-oriented. We’re always happy “about” something or someone. Joy comes from the inside. It is, indeed, down in our hearts. Which means, even when we are not particularly happy, we can still find joy.
The words I read this evening from the prophet Isaiah are an invitation to find—to remember—joy. This is a passage from the later part of the book, which means, the end of the exile has come, and God’s people are making their their way home again.
It’s a bittersweet reunion. Nothing is as it was. Beloved people and places are missing. It doesn’t feel like home; it’s new, it’s different, and not in a good way.
Despite all this, the prophet invites them to joy. He begins with words describing, essentially, the prophet’s job description.
God has anointed me, Isaiah says, to bring you good news. Good news to the oppressed, to the brokenhearted, to the captives, to the prisoners. Good news to those who have been on the receiving end of a lot of trauma and loss, and whose predominant emotion right now just might be grief.
Isaiah says: I am the good-news-bringer, to all in need of good news.
Here, joy is recognized in God’s application of justice to a situation that has been unjust for far too long. In addition to liberty for captives, and release of prisoners, Isaiah sees God rebalancing of the scales of justice through the “year of the Lord’s favor”—remember? The Jubilee year. Release from debt. Freedom from enslavement. Restoration and rest—even for the land.[i]
But joy was there, all along. If you were with us early in the fall, you may recall a letter from Jeremiah to the exiles, in which he urged them: Don’t allow anything—not even something as terrible as the exile—to keep them from living their lives. He gave examples of things they might do, and said, “Yes. Don’t wait. Live.”
Of course, the exile was not a pandemic. But they share this in common: real hardship during which joy is still possible. In fact, hardship, during which joy can root us and ground us in those things that really matter the most.
And so that question, “Where have you been finding joy?” was kind of a trick one. My assumption is, there is joy all along, if we are able to allow it to surface. And for a lot of us, these things have been happening online. Things like:
A spontaneous reunion of college friends, laughter and memories shared, and connections re-established.
A meeting of a book club, in which the discussion leads to deep insight, not to mention opportunity to learn more about each other.
And of course worship. One of the things you may not know is that, those of us who contribute to these weekly worship almost never see one another contributions until Sunday. Then, the impact of dear ones we haven’t seen for months, whether singing, or reading scripture, or sharing a personal testimony, or playing an instrument, or lighting Advent candles—that impact is so powerful. That reservoir of joy is tapped, and bubbles up—sometimes in a smile, sometimes in laughter, sometimes in tears.
I don’t want to minimize how hard this is. People in our community are struggling right now, going through experiences that are difficult and painful. For some, there is ongoing anxiety. For some, there is a dullness that feels like “Is this my life? Is this even me?” But joy is still possible—because joy is not about what is happening at the moment. Joy is about what grounds us, what we, ultimately, depend upon. Joy is capable of enduring hardship and trials, all the while connecting us with meaning and purpose. Happiness is of the moment, but joy is of the soul. [ii]
Near the end of our passage, the Good-News-Bringer, Isaiah, sings out:
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,
my whole being shall exult in my God… ~Isaiah 61:10
The prophet suggests that joy lies in our understanding that God is with us, and for us—and that has never changed. The prophet sings for joy because of a God who values righteousness over riches, and offers restoration, rebuilding, what you might even call “resurrection”—to all who have endured terrible hardship.
What if we decided to choose joy? To allow ourselves to be joy-full? Believe me, I am preaching to myself here—I know this may be hard in these frightening and uncertain times. But I am convinced that each of us has a reservoir of joy that we can find. And if we don’t—this is an excellent time to begin to shore it up.
Joy is deliberate. Joy is intentional. Joy is a choice, a practice and a behavior. [ii] And joy may well be the single greatest way we can prepare for the celebration of the birth of Christ. [iii]
I’ll end with this: a poem-prayer from retired pastor Steve Garnaas-Holmes, called “Rejoice Always.” He begins:
Seriously? Even with all the crud in the world?
Yes. In the rock-paper-scissors of life
joy cuts sorrow, crushes despair and swallows crud.
Grieve first... and joy comes with the morning.
These are hard days. But joy is bigger than these days.
Joy is not happiness with present circumstances,
but harmony with the goodness of God
and the overflowing of God's delight in us.
Joy includes the universe,
and all its beauty and sorrow.
Joy dances with gratitude.
Joy plays with hope, which is trust in the unseen.
Joy sings with love, which is self-giving for another,
who is the self—a return to wholeness. What joy!
Yes, people are suffering, and others don't care.
But some do. Rejoice!
You can rejoice during a pandemic.
You can give thanks at a funeral.
You can be joyful in prison.
You can lament suffering and injustice, and rejoice.
For joy is the healing of broken hearts,
the breaking of chains, the opening of graves,
the coming of God.
Christ does not come to make us happy,
but to stand with us in the pain of life
until joy like a seed rises.
All is swallowed up in joy.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[i] Monica Coleman, “Third Sunday in Advent: Isaiah,” Preaching God’s Transforming Justice: A Lectionary Commentary, Year B, Ronald J. Allen. Dale P. Andrews, and Dawn Ottoni-Wilhelm, eds. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 23.
[ii] “How to Tell the Difference Between Joy and Happiness,” Compassion International, https://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/difference-between-joy-and-happiness.htm.
[iii] Carolyn C. Brown, “Year B-The Third Sunday of Advent (December 14, 2014), Worshiping With Children, http://worshipingwithchildren.blogspot.com/2014/11/year-b-third-sunday-of-advent-december.html.