Advent: Joy

The Christmas season brings with it a familiar rhythm—twinkling lights, family gatherings, gift exchanges, and festive decorations. Yet beneath all the cultural trappings lies a revolutionary story that has the power to transform how we understand joy itself. The biblical account of Jesus' birth isn't just a heartwarming tale; it's a radical reimagining of where true joy is found and how it's cultivated in our lives.

When Good News Feels Terrifying

There's something profoundly human about the reactions we find in the Christmas story. When divine messengers appeared with what should have been the best news imaginable, the consistent response was fear. Zechariah, a seasoned priest performing his sacred duties, was "gripped with fear" when an angel appeared. Mary, a young woman going about her life, was "greatly troubled." The shepherds were "terrified" when the glory of the Lord shone around them.

This pattern reveals something important: sometimes the greatest news we could receive catches us so off guard that our initial response is anxiety rather than celebration. We become so accustomed to life's disappointments and limitations that we've stopped expecting miracles. We've learned to protect ourselves by lowering our expectations, and in doing so, we've inadvertently closed ourselves off to wonder.

The Professional Who Lost His Wonder

Zechariah's story is particularly striking. Here was a man who had spent his entire life in religious service. He was a descendant of Aaron, observing all the Lord's commands and regulations blamelessly. He was the consummate professional—the person everyone looked to for spiritual guidance and answers. Yet when confronted with a miraculous promise, his response was doubt: "How can this be?"

God's response to Zechariah's disbelief was unexpected: silence. For eight months, this priest who had made his living with words couldn't speak a single one. But this wasn't punishment—it was formation. In the silence, Zechariah's wonder was reawakened. He was forced to stop going through the motions and rediscover the awe-inspiring reality of a God who still speaks, still acts, still fulfills impossible promises.

How many of us have become "professional" in our faith? We read our Bibles because it's what we're supposed to do. We pray because it's on our spiritual checklist. We attend church out of habit rather than expectation. We've done this so long that the wonder has evaporated, replaced by routine. Zechariah's story reminds us that sometimes God needs to quiet our busy-ness so we can rediscover the joy of simply being in His presence.

Joy in the Waiting

The parallel stories of Elizabeth and Mary offer another profound insight: joy can be cultivated in the waiting. Elizabeth had spent decades longing for a child, watching friends and relatives experience the motherhood that eluded her. In a culture that viewed childlessness as a sign of divine disfavor, she carried not just disappointment but shame. She was "too old" for dreams to come true.

Mary, on the other hand, was young with her whole life ahead of her—but her yes to God's plan meant saying yes to becoming a social outcast. Pregnancy before marriage would cost her everything: her reputation, her community standing, possibly even her engagement and safety.

When these two women—one too old, one too young; one who had waited too long, one whose dream came too soon—met, something beautiful happened. There was no comparison, no jealousy, no measuring of whose miracle was greater. Instead, there was pure celebration. The baby in Elizabeth's womb literally leaped for joy, and both women praised God together.

Their story demolishes our tendency toward comparison. We live in a culture obsessed with timelines and benchmarks. By this age, we should be married. By that stage, we should have achieved certain career goals. When our timeline doesn't match others', we either despair over our delays or judge others for their different paths.

But God doesn't operate on our timeline. His promises aren't bound by cultural expectations about what should happen when. Elizabeth's story says that dreams aren't dead just because you've reached an age when society says you should slow down. Mary's story says that God's plans might disrupt your carefully laid timeline entirely—and that's okay. The key is learning to find joy not when everything falls into place, but in the sacred space of waiting and trusting.

Light in the Darkness

Perhaps the most revolutionary aspect of the Christmas story is who received the birth announcement. Not King Herod. Not the religious elite in Jerusalem. Not the wealthy or influential. Instead, angels appeared to shepherds—some of the most despised people in Palestinian society.

Shepherds were dirty, uneducated, untrustworthy outcasts who lived in the fields, separated from polite society. A third-century rabbi called shepherding "the most despised occupation in the world." These were people on the absolute margins, living in literal and metaphorical darkness.

And that's exactly where God showed up.

The message is clear: God specializes in illuminating darkness. He doesn't wait for us to clean up our act, get our lives together, or become respectable enough to deserve His attention. While we were still sinners—still in our mess, still in our shame, still in our darkness—Christ came for us.

This is where true joy is born: not in having everything figured out, but in discovering that God pursues us in our darkest moments. The shepherds didn't go home and clean up before visiting the newborn king. They went immediately, just as they were, and then couldn't help but tell everyone what they'd seen.

Joy as Strength for the Journey

The joy described in Scripture isn't the same as happiness based on circumstances. Happiness fluctuates with our situation—good news brings happiness, bad news steals it away. But joy is something deeper, more resilient. It's the settled confidence that God is good, God is present, and God is working—even when circumstances suggest otherwise.

This kind of joy becomes our strength. It enables us to be light-bearers in dark places, hope-speakers in cynical spaces, joy-bringers to communities that have forgotten how to celebrate. It transforms us from people who complain about our city, our circumstances, our lot in life, into people who see potential for God's goodness to break through anywhere.

Reawakening Wonder

This Christmas season, the invitation is to move beyond the cultural trappings and rediscover the revolutionary heart of the story. Whether you find yourself in a season of silence like Zechariah, a season of waiting like Mary and Elizabeth, or a season of darkness like the shepherds, joy is available.

Not the manufactured happiness of perfect circumstances, but the deep, abiding joy of knowing that God sees you, pursues you, and has plans for you that exceed your imagination. The same God who kept promises to the old and the young, the professional and the outcast, is still in the business of showing up in unexpected ways.

The question is: will we allow our wonder to be reawakened?