Loading...Welcome to “JOY:” the third Sunday in the season of Advent.
When we lit three candles in our Advent wreath today, we were reminded that there are much grief and loneliness in the world. People struggling with the loss of people they have loved, or who have been imprisoned. We know there are people in our own lives who feel isolated, who suffer from depression and are not joyful at this time of the year.
We cannot escape this reality. But as people of faith, we know our JOY comes through our faith, our trust, in God. And so, we began our service today, lighting first, the candle of HOPE, then the candle of PEACE, and finally the candle of JOY to overwhelm the world, to remind us that God’s hope, peace and joy are not just coming, they are here. We pray that the light of these candles will spark in us a light that we share, bringing hope, peace, and joy to the world.
We hope that these candles will remind us that God continues to surprise us, teach us, and love us. And because we have been surprised, taught and loved by God throughout our lives, we have a foundation filled with moments of joy.
I’ve been struggling a bit this week. I’m certain I am not alone. The days keep getting shorter, the air is colder, and even though there is an expectation that everyone should be happy in this “most wonderful time of the year,” it can sometimes be difficult to overcome feelings of loneliness, heartache, depression, and grief. It can be hard to find joy.
Sometimes circumstances beyond our control play a role in how we walk through the month of December and the preparation for both Jesus’s birthday and his return. Even if we aren’t directly impacted, we can feel sadness and worry when others are in pain. For those of us who are identified as empaths, sorrow and pain in others can affect us in ways we might realize intellectually that we do not need to carry, but our bodies feel, nonetheless.
Feeling helpless when others are experiencing hardship is real.
My 36-year-old next door neighbor’s funeral is happening this afternoon. He died by suicide last weekend. His decision to end his life left his two teenagers without a father, his fiancé without her future husband, and his family and friends without him. He, unfortunately, made a permanent decision during a temporary moment of emotional messiness.
His death, particularly because he chose it, will leave a complicated legacy for those he left behind. I hope that they will someday be able to remember him for the life he lived and not the way he died.
I’ve been feeling a bit helpless, wanting to do more, knowing there’s little more that I can do but bring in mail and keep an eye on the house. Thankfully, I have been able to be present, even if on the periphery, to express our sorrow, and to listen.
As I said. I’ve been struggling this week.
It is a time of the year when people miss loved ones, when memories just aren’t enough to fill the empty ache left inside hearts. We call it “Blue Christmas,” but there’s a medical diagnosis, too. Doctors call it Seasonal Affect Disorder. It’s all too real for many, many people.
Perhaps because of what happened last weekend, but also because I know people who suffer mightily with the blues this time of the year, I find the lighting of the “Joy” candle to be a little hard to embrace today.
And I’ll be honest; the Gospel reading leaves me a bit empty. I don’t want to work so hard to explain that Jesus did not come to save the world with power and might, but to bring hope, peace, joy, and love into the world.
I don’t want to have to justify how while he was imprisoned, John began to wonder if maybe Jesus is not the one God has sent. In his prison cell, he began to doubt that it really was Jesus who came to save the Israelites, the Jewish people, from the Roman Empire. Of course, John would want assurance!
I don’t want to even have to consider how often Jesus had to remind people that the miracles he was performing were what made him the kind of ruler the world needs.
I don’t want to think about how we can experience the wilderness as places to both get away from all the noise inside our heads and at the same time try to figure out how to survive there, too.
Then there’s the reality that sometimes the language of the Gospel makes the story of Jesus more complicated than it has to be. God comes into the world in the form of a baby, who we call Jesus, who grows, showing us what true love looks like. That by living in his example, we show our love for God through the ways we treat others.
Jesus walked on this earth to heal what is broken in us individually, and in community. He showed us that we are stronger when we are in relationship with one another, building a world where people respect the dignity of every single person, no matter their unique gifts and abilities.
Jesus came into this world to remind us that God loves us so much -- because we sometimes forget that. We forget that we aren’t alone. We forget that even in our sorrow, our pain, our brokenness, in our sins and mistakes, God doesn’t give up on us. God doesn’t leave.
But the reading from Isaiah…wow…what a great way to recognize the depth of life’s ups and downs, and how the cycles of creation are constant reminders that life goes on, that under the snow of winter, hiding under that blanket of white, life is transforming, it is preparing for the Spring.
It is in the rhythm of creation that we find hope for the future. When we remember that while it seems like so much is temporary, it all serves a purpose. Winter becomes Spring and Spring becomes Summer and Summer becomes Autumn and Autumn returns us to Winter. We can count on God’s design.
And isn’t it amazing to think about how the crocus is our harbinger of renewed hope, as one of the very first flowers to burst through the cold crust of the earth? I know just seeing the green leaves poking through the winter blanket and then opening their purple blossoms is a true reason to rejoice.
The imagery found in the reading from Isaiah reminds us that in all of it, in the wilderness, in the desert, in the streams, and in all of creation, we can see the presence of God and be glad. We can find joy in the turning and transforming of the world around us.
When we witness how the world changes, we may recognize that we aren’t much different. We have dormant times, times when our bodies and minds are quietly growing and changing deep within us, preparing us for something to spring anew. We experience all kinds of emotions and circumstances. We want our hands to be strong and our knees firm so that we can experience life as fully as we can.
We may wonder where God is when life is hard for ourselves or others and wonder how to be enough like Jesus to support those who are suffering and hurting, who are bereft and having to redefine what life means with loss, or who are feeling blue.
Isaiah reminds us that we need not fear, for God is with us, and that God will save us. The world will turn with the seasons, and so will we. And if we trust in the presence of God in our lives, we will never be alone.
Joy does not mean a life without hardship. It is knowing that with joy, hardship can be more manageable, especially when we remember that joy is just one more way to recognize God’s love.
For as Isaiah said: And the ransomed of the Lord shall return,
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain joy and gladness,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Amen.
