When I think of the word "joy," my mind automatically conjures images of kids too excited to sit still, of wide grins and sweet giggles, of sunny skies and cheery colors. I hear phrases such as "jump for joy" or "choose joy." To me, joy has always seemed to be the sprinkles atop the cupcake of a good life, a pretty add-on. It's something I would like to have, but not necessarily something I think I need.
But recently, I found my perspective challenged by the words of a guest speaker at church. "Joy," he said, "is not optional." He led us through Philippians 4, a passage that can feel impotent for its familiarity to those who have grown up hearing, memorizing, and even singing parts of it. But there it was right in front of me: "Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!" (NKJV) Here God gives us not a nice suggestion, but a command – we must rejoice.
To rejoice is to feel or display joy. This command, then, does not require merely an outward show; it calls for us to experience a state of the heart.
I confess that my first response to that command is to recoil from it. If rejoicing is mandatory, how am I supposed to practice it when my life is miserable and my feelings seem out of control? Why would God demand that I slap a happy face on when I don't actually feel particularly joyful?
As is the case with many words in the English language, the definition of "joy" has become too fuzzy in our minds. We see joy as a shot of dopamine, a burst of pleasure that makes us feel just good enough that we can chase that next spark of joy.
Unfortunately, we live in a fallen world which is often deeply unpleasant. We live broken human lives that often seem to be little more than an interminable string of drudgery and tragedy. At any given church each Sunday, the sanctuary is filled with people who are, in one way or another, suffering: uncertainty, relational discord, trauma, illnesses both visible and invisible, disappointment, loss. All these difficulties are real, and there is often no earthly remedy available for the pain of such circumstances. Every day, we prove Jesus' promise true: "In this world, you will have tribulation."
Yet we are still called to joy – a joy that is true, full, and unassailable. And to the person who is suffering, this calling can feel like another fifty pounds heaped on top of a load already too heavy to carry. We don't want to suffer in the first place, and we definitely don't want to have to grit our teeth and grin through the pain.
A biblical definition of joy, however, is not one of giddy exuberance. Rather, it is more of a calm sense of wellness. John Piper defines it as "a good feeling in the soul, produced by the Holy Spirit, as he causes us to see the beauty of Christ in the word and in the world." This definition grounds the concept of joy not in human circumstances, but in divine reality, emphasizing that tiny but essential prepositional phrase in Philippians 4:4 – "Rejoice in the Lord."
Even if every human companion has abandoned us and every physical joy has been denied us, if we can simply squint through the darkness of whatever situation we find ourselves in and see God, we can find joy. Our ephemeral circumstances do not cancel out the eternal truths about the reality in which we live: God is who He says He is. He loves us, and all His actions toward us flow from that love. For those of us who trust in Him for salvation, none of our lives are ever truly tragic because they end in our ultimate good: being made like Christ.
When God calls us to joy, He is not asking us to pretend as though our pain does not exist. He knows it does; He has experienced it Himself. Rather, He tells us to rejoice because it's good for us. He wants us to be well in our souls, and joy is the best antidote He can prescribe for the disease of suffering.
It may seem that rejoicing always is too much to ask of us, but Philippians 4 goes on to remind us in verse 13 that Christ will empower us to do whatever He calls us to. Joy is just one fruit of His presence in our lives. And when we practice joy, when we allow God's work to shape us through Scripture and the situations of everyday life, the joy in our souls actually strengthens us to take on the challenges that come our way.
And this is the paradox of joy: it does not order us to stop crying, but it does remind us that we do not sorrow without hope. It does not encourage escapism, but it does show us a window into the wonders of heaven. Joy is a difficult thing to have, but when we have it, the difficult becomes easier to bear.
Like many aspects of the Christian faith, joy is a discipline. At times it will come naturally, and at times it will be exhausting. But in all experiences of our lives, joy is not meant to be the sprinkles on the cupcake; it is the daily sustenance of our souls, given to us that we might know fullness of life.