Crazy, Fabulous Joy

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

-Christmas Carol

Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and me!
Three Dog Night


Joy is such a fierce thing, isn’t it? The word itself makes me think of something that cannot be stopped, like a flooding river through a broken dam. It makes me think of warm grins that cannot be contained, spreading to eyes and cheeks and faces, like a child at Christmas time. It makes me think of a hot and crackling fire in a big fireplace, where people can gather from the cold and drink warm drinks and put their snow things out to dry. This time of year, we are told from every corner to enjoy the season, to be merry, to take time to take in the meaning of Christmas. We watch favorite Christmas movies, we make special food and frost favorite cookies. We gather for parties with friends and family and pass out presents we hope will be received with happiness. It’s good to be busy this time of year with festive things, with planning, and giggling over silly traditions and debating over who sings “White Christmas” best (Elvis gets my vote, hands down). I think while it can be hard to balance the goodness of  Christmas celebrations while pondering the meaning of them, it is entirely possible.

I’ve always heard that joy is so much more than happiness, that happiness is defined by mere circumstance. Joy is stronger than that. It breaks through our daily grind, our poor health, our poor decisions in the past, our jobs, our living situations, our never-ending to-do lists, our constantly changing lives, our heartbreak over the state of the world. Joy acknowledges the validity of all these things, I believe, and yet calls us to look upward, like the wisemen following the star to find the baby lying in a manger. We look past ourselves to something, someone greater and bigger and infinitely more jolly than what we are used to.

We look to a God who loves relationships and parties and celebrations. He has always called His people to always rejoice, to sing out loud, to praise, to be loud in love. This same God who was a man of sorrows and who knew our pain and our sin also tells us to rejoice in Him always and again says, rejoice. This is where joy comes from. He has put to flight our sin and the death we all deserve. God Himself is our Day-Spring, our Sunrise, our cheer. He has come to abide and disperse the gloomy clouds of our night, of our dark days. Our Immanuel, God Himself with us, has come to us and shall come to us again. When He comes again, it will not be in hiding, in the dark backroom of an unknown inn, in the cry of a newborn infant. He will not come in obscurity or weakness, but with all the power and glory of the Son of God revealed, the One who will come to make all things new and all things holy. He will set all things right then, all of our broken things and all the world’s broken things.

Joy starts from within, from a realization of the joyous love of God toward us, and it can’t help but radiate outward in overwhelming beams of goodwill, to ourselves and everyone. It melts our pride, our selfishness, our busyness, our chilled souls. Joy gives us new eyes to see all the blessings of God right now and for the future. Joy allows us to see others as they are and share the light and joy we’ve found with them with all the urgency and unstoppable force of a melting glacier. This is the fierceness and bigness of joy. Christmas is the perfect time to take a moment or two and realize that the joy of God is indeed in us. This is why we have parties and presents and too many cookies; why we sing carols and songs telling the world that He has come, He abides in us and He is coming again.  Let us live out this joy and realize how much He delights in us. It will change everything and we will bring His kingdom wherever we are. This joy will rise up and flood this world, our world, with warmth and light and peace.