Joy
The Courage to Choose Joy
As we enter the third Sunday of Advent, we light the candle of Joy. We pause in the busy countdown to Christmas to reflect on what it means to rejoice as we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus—God entering our world in human form, Emmanuel, God with us.
For some, joy feels close at hand this time of year. For others, it feels distant, maybe even inaccessible. And for many of us, the familiar call to “be joyful” can feel like pressure—something we should feel, even when life makes it hard. Advent offers us something gentler than that. It gives us permission to name where we really are, and to discover that joy is not a denial of pain, but a gift that meets us within it.
Scripture repeatedly tells us that joy is a fitting response to God’s presence. The Christmas story is filled with it—Mary’s song, Elizabeth’s delight, the shepherds’ awe. Yet, alongside joy, we also find fear. Again and again, angels begin their announcements with the words, “Do not be afraid.” Fear is acknowledged, not dismissed. But it is never the final word.
Joy, it turns out, is a vulnerable emotion. Researcher Brené Brown describes joy as one of the most vulnerable experiences we have because to fully embrace it is to risk loss. She calls this tension foreboding joy—the instinct to hold back, to protect ourselves from disappointment by never fully giving ourselves to delight. Many of us know this feeling well.
The Bible understands this tension too. In Nehemiah 8, after years of exile and loss, the people hear God’s law read aloud and begin to weep. But Nehemiah interrupts their mourning with a surprising command:
“Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”
Joy, here, is not shallow optimism. It is strength. It is rooted in relationship—in knowing who God is and who we are to Him. There is a time to grieve, but there is also a holy invitation to rejoice simply because God is near.
Joy, for Christians, is not an abstract feeling. It has a name and a face. Our joy is Jesus Himself. He is the fulfillment of Israel’s hope, the embodiment of God’s faithfulness, the One who enters fully into human sorrow and promises that grief will not have the final word. As Jesus tells His disciples in John 16, “You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy… and no one will take away your joy.”
This joy does not ignore suffering—it passes through it. Like a child born through labor pains, joy often arrives on the far side of struggle.
Scripture also reminds us that joy is meant to be expressed. King David understood this when he danced before the Lord as the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6). His worship was unrestrained, undignified, and wholehearted. Michal, watching from a distance, despised him for it—perhaps out of jealousy, judgment, or discouragement. Her response invites us to ask honest questions of ourselves: Where have fear, pride, or comparison kept us from joy? Where have we stayed on the sidelines rather than stepping into worship?
Joy will not look the same for everyone. Some expressions are quiet and deep; others are exuberant and visible. What matters is not performance, but presence. God delights in our joy because it flows from trust, surrender, and love.
As we light the candle of joy this Advent season, we are reminded that joy is not something we manufacture—it is something we receive. It is available even now, regardless of circumstance, because the Lord is near (Philippians 4:4–5).
So perhaps the invitation this week is simple, yet courageous:
What would it look like to be a little more free in your worship?
A little more open to joy?
A little more willing to trust that God meets you right where you are?
May the joy of the Lord be your strength. And may that joy—quiet or exuberant—shine as a light in the darkness, reminding us that God is truly With Us.