Faithful Paradox

I recently had a conversation with someone about loss and grief. In the conversation, he asked me, “Do you feel like you have joy?” I paused before I answered and asked if he could clarify what he meant by joy. Depending on how he defined joy, it would dramatically affect the answer I gave. His response was, “Tell me how would you define joy.”

The concept of joy is one in the Christian’s life that seems like it should be easy to define. Christians ought to be some of the most joy-filled people on earth because we have the greatest promise from a perfect Savior. It is a defining piece of what it means to walk with Jesus. The definition of joy, however, is surprisingly hard to nail down. Is it a feeling? Is it an emotion? Is it a countenance? Is it a smile no matter what? Is it a heart posture? What is joy?

As I wrestle with this topic, I did a quick search in Scripture for the word “joy” and not surprisingly, it occurs hundreds of times (its actual number depends on which translation you prefer). The Bible speaks of making a joyful noise, of being altogether joyful, of joyful songs and rejoicing with great joy. Often, it is paired with the phrase “gladness of heart.” Joy is a fruit of the Spirit. It’s a commandment to the believer. It can mean to experience great pleasure or delight, it can mean to rejoice, or exult. The question is still begged, however, what does it mean for one to have joy? Is it simply the expression of an emotion? Or is there something deeper at play?

A further question arises as well: What does joy mean for the person who is grieving? There can be a sense of guilt when we know we ought to have joy, and yet the sadness overwhelms. What does joy look like for the person who battles chronic depression, for whom the fog never lifts? What does it mean to have joy in the midst of deep disappointment and bitter sorrow? How do we embrace joy in the midst of suffering and loss? If the commandment is to be joyful always, then somehow, joy and sorrow, joy and depression, joy and grief, joy and loss, must and can coexist. Somehow, it has to be possible to have both weeping and joy.

I grew up in the Christian subculture of the 1980’s and 1990’s. I remember often hearing the exhortation to “choose joy.” I don’t remember every utterance of this phrase, but what I do remember was that it was often said in a time where difficulty ensued. I do not know the heart of those who encouraged it and do not judge the motive. I recognize that my hearing of the phrase was received through my own lens and filtering. For me, when I heard the phrase, it always felt like it was either a pressure to “Buck up, buttercup. You’re being a Debbie Downer.” Or it was said in the face of some trial, “This isn’t going to get me down. I’m just going to choose joy and get through this.”

Both of these reasons to “choose joy” felt disingenuous to me. The exhortation to “choose joy” of my childhood almost always felt like a correction of temperament; the fixing of an emotion, but rarely did it address the heart. I emotionally rebelled when I heard the phrase “choose joy” because what it seemed to be communicating was two fold.

First, it felt that the way emotion and struggle were being shown is really pulling people down, so stop it. Slap on a happy face and act like things are okay. Life is not that bad. Trials are not really that hard. The heart and struggle don’t matter. What matters is how your mood is affecting others.

Secondly, it seemed like a rally cry. “Yes, this trial is hard, but I’m just going to choose joy and it will make it all okay. No pain, no struggle, no trial is going to get me down!” It felt like an insincere disregarding of pain or struggle and more about how you presented yourself in the midst of struggle. It seemed based on self strength and perseverance.

My understanding of choosing joy in my childhood never felt like something that addressed the heart, but rather, more of a behavioral modification. It felt like a glossing over of pain or struggle to act as if life was okay when it didn’t feel okay in the moment and sometimes, life was not okay.

As I pondered the question of whether or not I had joy and how I would define it, the definition that I gave the questioner was that: Joy is a conscious and intentional, oftentimes daily decision about how I am living as I choose to believe the promises of God, not despite what is going on in my life, but because of it. It’s an intentional redirecting of my gaze from what is seen to what is unseen (2 Cor. 4:18).

If this was the working definition of joy, then yes, I absolutely have joy. If his understanding of joy was one of emotion or happiness, of being more concerned about how I presented myself than how my heart was directed, then I would need to reconsider my answer.

Despite our best efforts and intentions, I think we are prone to tying joy to an emotion. We might say we have joy when a child is born or when we get a job we’ve hoped to land. We might say we have joy when healing comes or when God provides in some way. It’s easy to feel joy and declare it in the times when God answers how we had hoped.

While there is certainly joy in these circumstances, I think we have, at times, misunderstood that the joy that comes in these moments is not just the feeling of delight about the moment, but it is actually a rejoicing in seeing the goodness of God. The happiness we experience is thought to be joy, when in all reality, the joy is that we have seen and experienced the kindness of God. It’s a recognition that we have experienced that he truly delights in giving good gifts.

True joy is not an emotion. While emotions can be tied to it, it never involves glossing over of emotions and I think this is what we often miss. True joy never involves showing up with a smile because it is what is culturally acceptable and desired. True joy is never just powering through.

True joy is a deep and abiding trust in the promises of God. True joy says yes, weeping may last for the night, but God has promised that joy will come in the morning, even if I do not know when the sun will rise. It’s recognizing that Jesus both embraced the weeping of the moment and the promise that was yet to come, and so can we (John 11:35). True joy is walking in the truth of knowing that this life is full of sadness, sorrow and trials; no one escapes and yet some day, the tears will be gone (Rev. 21:4). True joy is knowing that God has promised he is with us as we journey (Psalm 34:18). True joy is clinging to the promise that one day, because of Christ, it will all be made right (Romans 5:17). God has promised that it will not always be this hard and in that, there is hope.

I think true joy actually looks a lot like hope and faith married together and not so much like an emotion. It’s a steadfast belief that what God has said he will do will come to pass. It’s a patient waiting for God to move and make all things right. It’s knowing that suffering will always be redemptive and we will see its fruit one day. It’s a confidence that this sorrow, this pain, this stumbling and weeping is not all that we have. It’s an assurance that God is at work, even though what we can see and understand feels very much the opposite.

As I responded to the question of, “do you have joy” I was able to answer, “Yes, I do believe I have joy when joy is defined as a steadfast hope in the promises of God.” If joy is defined as an emotion, then my answer would change. You see, I find that I still am often sad. I struggle, at times, with depression. I wrestle with happiness because so much of the shine of this world died when I lost my son. I still grieve deeply. I still cry most weeks. I still ache to a depth I never knew possible. But joy? That’s a different story.

Joy is when I believe that God has given me another day to live and because I’m alive, he still has purpose for me so I press on in faith (Psalm 57:2). Joy is when I believe that God has said that his mercy is new today and the mercy he has portioned is enough for today so I know I will endure (Lam 3:22-23). Joy is reaching the end of a day and knowing that God has helped me endure whatever it was that he had for me that day (1 Cor. 10:13-14). Joy is choosing to keep moving forward, knowing that God is the God of endurance and hope and it does not rely on my grit or determination to keep going (Romans 15:5). Joy is remembering that this earth is fleeting and there is nothing here that will ever satisfy me fully and feeling disappointment in the things of life is actually how it is intended to work (2 Cor. 4:18). Joy is knowing that we can actually be encouraged when we feel disappointed in the things of life because it is a fulfillment of the promises of God (Isaiah 58:11)! Joy is clinging to what God has promised, no matter the circumstance and allowing that to shape the way I live; the way I show up day after day.

True joy does not gloss over pain. It is a both-and. It is both acknowledging the pain I experience and also a belief that because of Jesus, this pain is truly light and momentary (although rarely does it feel light and momentary – 2 Cor. 4:17). It’s both grieving deeply and yet knowing that the grief will not end in despair (although some days that line of despair feels dangerously close). It’s understanding when we are commanded to not grieve as those who have no hope, it does not mean that the pain is not there. It does not even mean that the pain is any less or that it’s easier to carry, but rather, it’s an assurance that ultimately the pain will not win. There will be an end to the suffering one day. There will be purpose in the pain, even if I cannot understand it or find any comfort or meaning in this life.

True joy is not the “choosing joy” of my childhood, which felt like a disregarding of pain or an unwillingness to acknowledge the struggle. It’s not simply how we show up. Rather it’s a deep exhortation to trust in the promises of a good God who cannot lie and to allow that to shape how we live. Choosing joy is clinging to the gift of joy that the Father gives. It’s knowing that there is a God who has promised that weeping will indeed come but who also assures us that there is more to the story than we can understand or see. It’s an assurance from God who has promised he will be with us in the pain and as he is with us, he walks with us and reveals more and more of himself to us. Joy is not simply an emotion, although emotions can surround it. It is not simply a feeling, although feelings can accompany it.

Joy is a determined and fixed focus on Jesus and what he has promised. It’s looking to Jesus, “who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross” (Hebrews 12:2). He knew what was to come and so he endured the unimaginable with patience for what lay ahead. Joy is confidence in his character, along side the pain and the weeping, along side the sorrows and the trials. Joy is belief that God can be found in the midst of the hardship and the confusion. Knowing these truths does not make the pain any less. Often, it doesn’t even feel any easier to endure, but it certainly gives hope that one day it will all be right.

Joy is fighting to daily believe these truths; to speak them to my heart and my mind. Joy is knowing that God is in the midst of all that we face and his goodness will be found, no matter the journey we are on. Joy is hopeful anticipation. Is it something we choose? Absolutely. It’s a gift, given to us from a good God. The choice is not whether or not the joy is there, but rather, it’s what we choose to do with the gift that is before us. It’s a choice that never disregards pain, but rather, both acknowledges the pain and simultaneously redirects the gaze to something eternal. Joy and weeping live side by side. Joy and sorrow hold hands as they walk together. Joy and grief stand shoulder to shoulder. This character trait can mark us because it’s not at all about what we face, but rather it’s about how we worship in the midst of pain and in that, can great joy be found.