It is the third week of Advent. In my church, that means that yesterday was the day to light the lone pink candle, which symbolizes joy in the midst of this dark time of waiting. A little over 2,000 years ago, God's people were waiting for their Messiah, struggling through existence under Roman rule, having been given no word from God in a few hundred years. Now God's people wait for the second coming of our Messiah, struggling through a time that is filled with injustice, violence, hopelessness, fear, mistrust, and so many other things.
This week, amid all of the darkness, we talk about joy.
What a jarring idea! How can there be joy when wars rage and people suffer? How can there be joy now of all times? How dare we celebrate anything right now?!
Yesterday as I prepared to attend church, my heart was not filled with joy. As in years past, my head was full of the week's coming activities and the worries of life. I was not frantic or anxious. I was simply busy, with no time for any emotion. That's what it's like to be me. My emotions are subtle and usually pushed beneath the surface until they become overwhelming and burst out, usually in a torrent of anger, frustration, or sadness. I rarely get excited and I rarely exhibit joy.
Yet, as I ironed my dress, I felt a little twinge of regret. I've been acknowledging joy on the third Sunday of Advent for many years, but I've never felt particularly joyful on that day. Mind you, I am fully aware that one's faith is not defined by feelings. However, this year I felt a longing for joy. The past few weeks have been difficult emotionally as I watch people close to me struggle and come to grips with parts of my own past. Joy would be so nice right now.
An hour later, I was in my regular pew, sitting next to my friend and wondering what the guest speaker would be like. Would he even know to preach about joy? Would I spend the sermon cringing at frail platitudes that offered no real comfort or hope? I was to be wonderfully surprised.
The preacher, a Pastor Leon from another local church, based his sermon in Revelation 21:1-8. This passage gives us a glimpse of the new heaven and new earth. It reminds God's children of what we have to look forward to. We are not stuck in endless suffering. God has given us a future to look forward to, one in which "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away" (Rev 21:4, ESV). As he preached, I was enthralled by the Word, the truth, and the promises. I was filled with joy and felt joy. God knew my longing and had given me that for which I had not even thought to ask. He is indeed a good Father.
As the sermon ended, I naively expected the joy to stay. It did, for a while. Soon, however, I was confronted again with busyness and suffering. I cheerily entered into conversations, only to have bitterness and pessimism dumped on my shoulders. If it were a case of sharing one another's burdens, I would not have been so disconcerted, but time and again, it seemed as if complaining was the order of the day, rather than joy.
At first, I nearly gave in and let go of the joy God had so graciously gifted to me. Perhaps it was meant to be temporary, a brief reminder of His goodness. But I needed that joy! Oh, how I need it still! And so I clung to it, recalling the wonderful promise of how God will finally defeat and banish evil and pain. I brought this promise back to mind each time a conversation or social media post tried to pull me back down to despair. Yes, people are suffering now. Yes, we are called to relieve suffering where possible. But we do not face this world in our own strength. We face it with hope, faith, joy, and love - the precious gifts that come from God.
How can we fight injustice without celebrating the incarnation of the One who will judge the righteous and the wicked? How can we offer hope without acknowledging the One who gives His people a hope and future? How can we mourn with those who suffer without drawing strength from the One who suffered for us? We cannot. We must cling to Christ and to the gifts He gives to us, lest the wretchedness of this world destroy us.
