on joy

Lord, You are so good — so why do I give everything else the power to undo me? why do we hand our peace away so easily? why does one bad day still have this much power over us? Why does illness cripple us? Why does a failed relationship feel as though there is no longer hope? Who am I to be mad? Who am I to be sad? Who am I to demand anything?

We are tired of being people who cannot receive what You give us. Joy.

And we confess: we have allowed things to steal our joy.

We have let comparison do its slow work — measuring our lives against what we see on a screen, deciding quietly that someone else has more, that You have been more generous to them than to us. We have let illness embitter us. We have let our selfishness embitter us. We have given others the ability to control our emotions. We have let rejection and loneliness and shame invade our soul. We have forgotten you. We have forgotten your promises, your word.

Forgive us, Lord. Your Word says a cheerful heart is good medicine — but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. And we have felt that drying. Not because You withheld joy from us — but because we handed it over to things that were never meant to hold it.

But You — You are not a God who gives good gifts and then watches them get taken. You are not distant from what we feel. You are not unmoved by what moves us.

You who spoke light into darkness. You who parted seas and shut the mouths of lions. You who raised the dead and conquered the grave. You who rejoice over us with singing. Who quiets us with Your love. Who saw us while we were still far off — and ran.

You delighted in us first. You do not change. And when we understand that — joy stops being something we produce. It becomes something we receive. A response.

Of course we have joy. You have been so good to us.

You gave us breath this morning. You gave us people to love. You gave us this church. You brought us into this room tonight. And before any of that — You gave us Your Son. You conquered death on our behalf. You called us Yours.

So who am I Lord? I am just a lowly servant. I am nothing if not yours. I am nothing without your salvation.

So we open our mouths and we say it: The joy of the Lord is our strength. It was not made to be stolen.

We say to comparison — you are not welcome here. We have been fearfully and wonderfully made. That has not changed.

We say to offense and shame and bitterness — you do not get to live here anymore.

We say to the noise of this world — you do not narrate our lives. You will keep us in perfect peace because our minds are fixed on You.

We say to unmet expectations — you are not the end of the story. The joy of the Lord is our strength.

Lord thank you because you came so we could have life — life to the FULL. more and better life than we ever dreamed of. We choose that life. We choose it tonight.

Tonight we receive what You have already given. Not as a feeling we perform. Not as happiness that needs good circumstances. But as a gift already given. Already ours.

And we renew our vow to protect it — not by pretending, not by forcing, but by returning to You every time something tries to take it.

We will not let them have it.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.