What Rejoicing Looks Like
A sermon on Philippians 4: 4 – 9
Happy Pills?
Don’t you wonder what kind of happy pills the Apostle Paul was popping when he penned, “Rejoice always. Do not be anxious about anything. Put your mind on positive thoughts.”
I mean, sometimes you’ve got to read the room. You don’t shout hoorah when a hurricane blows away a village. You don’t high-five when you hear about someone’s rights getting violated. You don’t pop the cork when the doctor says, “Stage four.”
So, what’s going on with Paul? How can he say, “Rejoice always?”
Maybe he was talking to himself as much as the people he was writing to. He had been beaten within an inch of his life and thrown into some windowless dungeon shortly before he wrote it. He knew he needed to choose his attitude so that he didn’t succumb to despair.
I don’t think Paul just ‘decided’ not to be sad. I imagine there were nights he sobbed, nights he raged. Joy didn’t erase his pain; it sat beside it.
Joy is not an emotion but a disposition!
I think what he found was that, after everything else had been stripped away from him — his creaturely comforts and dignity — he had something valuable—a close connection to God. He sensed God was a constant companion. “The Lord is near,” he says.
This deep spirituality reminded him that all was not lost. He had people on the outside who cared about him. He had that feeling that God, as a constant companion, was blessing him, encouraging him, accepting him. There was that secure center, the sense of being right in spirit that nothing can strip away.
For him, joy is not a feeling nor an emotional high. Instead, it is a grounding presence.
- Paul’s not saying: “Everything is great!” But he is saying: “God and love and beauty and mercy have not abandoned you.”
- He’s not saying: “Paste on a fake smile!” He’s saying: “Awaken to the nearness of God.”
- He’s not saying: “Ignore the real world.” But he is saying: “You’re not facing that real world alone.”
Joy is not a reaction to how life is going. Joy is a fruit of remembering that God is with us.
When all else is stripped away, can you be at peace?
Did you catch that he called it the peace that surpasses all understanding? It’s where I get the benediction I have used at every worship service, a blessing prayer for you that you would know the spiritual benefits of that peace.
If everything were stripped away from you, would there still be a core within you that can say, “Even though everything else is a disaster, deep down, I’m alright?”
It’s an inner assurance and peace that tragedies can’t dismantle, obscene political agendas can’t disrupt, and your detractors can’t dismiss.
I think Paul was getting at a joy deeper than external experiences. Spiritual joy is deeper than the happiness that results from having things go your way. You don’t celebrate bad news, but you do have a sense that there is still goodness and love in your life—something to be grateful for.
Gratitude
I think gratitude is the key to cultivating that inner joy.
Sometimes when I get frustrated and out of sorts, I think about the gravy my father makes for Thanksgiving. There was a time as a teenager when I came close to death. I’ve felt that everything since that time is gravy. It’s all gravy. I have a baseline joy of being alive; no matter what is going on, I’m still here to experience the fullness of life with its highs and lows. Even if it’s lumpy or got too much starch—it’s still gravy!
Creating that center of joy comes through appreciating the small things every day. It means being intentional about it as a life practice, not just on Thanksgiving.
Happy Thanksgiving Rick
I remember when my brother was moving to Colorado, and I was heading off to college. We’d spent nearly every day of our lives together, but we had no idea when we’d see each other again. Maybe at Thanksgiving, he said.
It turned out we didn’t get to see each other at Thanksgiving. But when we did get together sometime later, he greeted me with, “Happy Thanksgiving, David!”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Rick!”
From then on it became our tradition that whenever we got back together, we greeted each other with “Happy Thanksgiving!” And whenever we parted, we said, “See you at Thanksgiving.”
It didn’t matter what month or day it was; it didn’t matter if there was Turkey or stuffing. When we got together, it was Thanksgiving. It’s always Thanksgiving when you’re with the people you care about. It’s not just for the fourth Thursday of November.
The quiet ember of joy.
I came across this quote from a video where it was said in the voice of Winnie the Pooh:
“There was a season when joy came easily, laughing at small things, getting excited over nothing, feeling full of sunny ideas from morning to night. These days, my joy feels quieter, like an ember nestled in the ashes after a long fire. For a while, I thought that meant the fire was gone. But embers, I’ve learned, are what remain when a flame has been working very hard for a very long time. They are tired, but not finished. If your spark is more of a faint glow than a roaring blaze, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost it. It means it has stayed with you through everything, burning low and steady in all the places you thought would put it out.”
Maybe at the end of the day, gratitude is just tending the ember you’ve got. Not pretending the fire is bigger than it is—just appreciating that the heat is still there.
What rejoicing looks like.
Sometimes rejoicing is about smiles and elation.
- Other times, rejoicing looks like getting out of bed in the morning, despite it all.
- Sometimes rejoicing looks like getting out there, advocating for what is right.
- Sometimes joy looks like helping someone else with lumpy gravy.
- Sometimes rejoicing means taking time to appreciate what you have rather than focusing on what you lack.
Remember that most people in the world would gladly swap their problems for yours. Did you see the snow on the mountains this morning, feel a warm floor under your feet when you woke up, notice how the rains greened everything up, or consider how these musicians have dedicated themselves to countless hours of practice to bring such gorgeous music to us today?
The one-armed judo champ.
I heard a Japanese story about a kid who lost an arm in an accident. Getting picked on all the time, bullied, and pushed around, he wanted to learn judo for self-defense. Most teachers didn’t want to take him on and make the accommodations. They wanted their schools to produce champions.
One old sensei took him on but only taught him one move. They practiced it to the point of tedium. One day, the teacher entered the student in a tournament. The kid objected, but the teacher insisted he was ready. “I only have one move!”
“So just do that. Judo is more about what is in the head and heart and discipline than physical gifts.”
Astonishingly, the kid quickly dispatched his opponent and then the next one. He breezed through the tournament and was crowned champion.
“I don’t understand how I won.”
“The only counter to your move that the other boys learned involves grabbing the arm that isn’t there. Your body is not a problem to be overcome, it is a gift as it is.”
You have everything you need already.
Instead of focusing on what you lack, realize that you have everything you need for a happy and meaningful life within you. You have the ember, the connection to God.
The spiritual practice you need—every day to the point of tedium—is to practice gratitude for big and small things. That’s what gives you the inner peace, that quiet center, that calm assurance that you can get through whatever may come.
Remember that when you pass gravy on Thursday. And may you remember every day that it’s all gravy.