By Abbey Adcox
As Christmas approaches, reminders to be joyful are everywhere. JOY is emblazoned on sweaters, ornaments and wrapping paper, urging us to feel this emotion.
This tinsel-covered joy feels out of reach for me this year. My heart is heavy with grief over systemic inequities, discrimination and the discouraging state of public discourse. I struggle to claim joy.
As our worship this morning reminds us, the other side of joy is fear. I’m doing pretty well holding on to fear. How about you? I’m well-versed, whether it’s fear of failure, fear of what tragedy might befall my family or fear for the futures of my neighbors. How do I, how do we, find hope amid our fear to proclaim the good news of great joy to all?
I’m reminded that Advent joy isn’t happiness or squeals and laughter. It’s a choice — a deep and abiding choice. As author K.J. Ramsey observes, “joy is right on the outer edge of your longings.” It’s a perspective that beckons us to reach beyond the visible, to see the light that endures even in the darkness. The joy of Advent is the kind that doesn’t dismiss the darkness but points us toward the light, encouraging us to trust in God’s presence in the waiting. This echoes our call in Christ — we are, after all, the light of the world. Even the smallest flicker can guide us toward hope and joy.
Barbara Brown Taylor describes joy as “almost irreverent.” She writes, “Joy has never had very much to do with what is going on in the world at the time. The only condition for joy is the presence of God … which means that it can erupt in a depressed economy, in the middle of a war, or in an intensive care waiting room … it is a gift.” Joy transcends circumstances; it thrives in the presence of God.
This Advent, let us look for the light and choose joy — not as a denial of fear or sorrow, but as a declaration of God’s enduring presence and love. In doing so, may we reflect that light into the world, inspiring others to move toward abiding joy with us.