By Maggie Morey
Before Sunday School each week, our elementary students begin their time by gathering and singing songs together. A fan favorite of mine is “I’ve Got Peace Like a River.” The upbeat verses cycle through “peace like a river” and “love like an ocean” and end on “I’ve got joy like a fountain.” I love this image of joy — as something that cannot be contained, as something that bubbles up from within. And today, we turn our collective Advent attention to joy.
Perhaps in this season, joy does not feel like it is bubbling up, bursting through our very selves like a fountain. Perhaps it does not feel uncontainable. Rather, maybe joy in this season feels like a seed, a sliver, a bit of light peeking around a shadow.
As we prepare ourselves for worship this morning, turn your attention to joy, whether it feels like it’s bubbling up within you or if it is something that is harder to grasp. Take a moment and reflect on these questions: What is the most potent memory of joy that you have? Where do you feel joy in your body? What does joy feel like for you?
Advent is the time of waiting for the coming of the Christ child and in that there is a deep joy. And let us not approach this joy as a cheap one, as tied only to the lights and decorations and presents but rather the joy of presence. A joy that we are met right where we are. That the presence of the Word made flesh meets us in times when we feel lonely, tired or unsettled, for whatever reason, or for no reason at all. This joy we celebrate is about the ways God comes alongside us in everything — in our sorrow, in our hope, in our fight, in our longing, in our regret, in our delight, in our togetherness, in our solitude, in all of it.
This morning, whether your joy is as abundant as a puddle in the parking lot or a geyser of delight, let this time of collective music, prayer and worship point you to the surprising and accompanying joy of God.