Advent 4
21 December 2025
Vineville Baptist Church
Macon, Georgia
Gregory Pope
THE COURAGE TO EMBRACE JOY
Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11. Psalm 126. Philippians 4.4. Luke 1.46b-55
In her poem “Don’t Hesitate,” Mary Oliver counsels us with these words:
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy
don’t hesitate. Give in to it . . .
whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty.
Joy is not made to be a crumb.1
Sounds to me like a take on the words of Jesus to his disciples: These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full (John 15:11). Fullness of joy. Not joy as a crumb.
Now before we speak too glibly of joy in the face of all the pain in the world, we need the wisdom of the psalmist who knew something profound about the relationship of weeping and joy. In Psalm 126 we find a single sentence which captures one of the most fundamental hopes of our faith: Those who go out weeping will come home with shouts of joy. It is the deep and abiding, strong and enduring, hope of our faith that, someday, God will wipe all the tears from every face, and joy, not pain, will have the last word.
“Those who go out in tears will come home in joy.” All of which is beautiful to ponder and hopeful to believe, but all of which must be spoken in ways so careful that they ring true, not only on the happiest ears in the room, but also on the saddest ears in the room. We must be careful not to wander off into that “sunny side of the street” optimism which races to embrace joy without first stopping to sit truthfully with the pain which is so deep for so many. With our Blue Christmas Service earlier this month we sought to give words to human sorrow so people could honor their grief in the midst of this season of joy.
In most lives there is plenty of both laughter and tears, joy and pain. As Mrs. Soames said in Act III of Our Town, looking back on her life from the vantage point of heaven: “My, wasn’t life awful . . . and wonderful.” Truer words have rarely been spoken. Almost every life is both: awful and wonderful – some times a sea of joy, punctuated by islands of pain; at other times a sea of pain, punctuated by islands of joy. A convergence of joy and pain which the poet Mary Oliver captured in another verse:
We shake with joy, we shake with grief.
What a time they have, those two,
housed, as they are, in the same body.2
Isn’t that the way life is for all of us? “We shake with joy and we shake with grief.”
Advent has a way of joining the two in a most peculiar fashion. A young man named Bobby grew up in a non-liturgical religious world. So the first time he walked into a more liturgical church and saw an Advent wreath adorned with three purple candles and one pink candle, he declared, with no small degree of indignation, “Can this church not afford a matching set of candles?” The pastor gently took Bobby aside and explained to him that three purples and a pink is a matching set of Advent candles: purple – in Advent as in Lent – is a reminder of the painful preparation of repentance, and, pink – is the liturgical color for joy. One writer described the Advent wreath as: a circle of bruises, interrupted by a flash of joy. Which Bobby and the pastor agreed was, in fact, a perfectly matched set, not only for Advent, but, also, for life: some pain and some joy. But the good news for all people is that the last word will be joy. As the church, we lean on each other to face the sorrow and bear the pain. And finally, ultimately, eternally, make it through together. Those who go out weeping will come home laughing.
So without turning a blind eye to pain – our own and that of others let us, with God’s help, gather up the courage to embrace true joy. A courage best exemplified by Mary the mother of Jesus. Mary, about whom there are so many misconceptions – pun intended – is a pregnant, unmarried teenager. Imagine her rushing to Elizabeth’s house. She is worried about being a mother and worried what her mother thinks. Anxiety does not begin to describe her life.
The time comes for her to give birth. Imagine Mary and Joseph approaching the hotel clerk when he tells them, “There’s no room in the inn.”
And Joseph pleads: “But she’s pregnant.”
And the innkeeper says: “That’s not my fault.”
To which Joseph replies: “It’s not my fault either!”
Pregnant and frightened Mary will soon be a homeless parent living under a cruel Roman empire and a wicked king will try to murder her child. The proud, the rich, and the powerful have always sought to wield their money and strength in devastating ways. And yet, Mary sings: My soul magnifies the Lord. My spirit rejoices in God my Savior. God has remembered us with love and mercy. And with strength God has and will scatter the proud, bring down the powerful, lift up the lowly, fill the hungry, and send the rich away empty.
What courage it took for Mary to sing of such joy at such a scary time in her life. God’s people can rejoice even where there seems to be little reason because we’ve discovered that sadness is not the last word. The joy of Christmas is a defiant “nevertheless” that does not deny sorrow but overcomes it.
Such joy can only come to us as a gift. We cannot manufacture joy. Joy has to be given to us. In the Greek language, the word for joy and the word for grace come from the same root. Joy is chara. Grace is charis. Both mean “gift.” Where do we find this gift of joy? Our sacred scriptures tell us this gift of joy is found in a personal relationship with the Christ of Christmas.
One of the most beautiful and joyful stories of conversion I have ever read comes from Charles Finney, the great evangelist of the early 1800’s. He describes his surprising conversion in these words: Without any expectation of it, without ever having the thought in my mind that there was any such thing for me, without any recollection that I had heard the thing mentioned by any person in the world, the Holy Spirit descended upon me in a manner that seemed to go through my body and soul. I could feel the impression like a wave of electricity going through and through. Indeed, it seemed to come in waves and waves of love because I could not express it in any other way. It seemed like the very breath of God. I can recollect distinctly that it seemed to fan me like immense wings. No words can express the wonderful love that was shed abroad in my heart. I wept aloud with joy. Now not every conversion experience is that emotional. But the gift of saving grace that occasioned such joy is available to us all.
Perhaps you can recall personal days of joy in your life. A deliverance from addiction or a severe illness. You hear the doctor’s report: “Five years clean of cancer,” and you can’t keep back the tears of joy. There is a wedding. Or the birth of a baby. The call of a friend to say “I love you.” Everyday gifts so small that we often forget to rejoice.
There are also those larger historical celebrations of joy. Like V. J. Day and the end of World War II. Perhaps you remember that iconic photograph of the sailor in Times Square on that day kissing the nurse he found in the jubilant crowd. Or the day the Berlin Wall, which divided East and West Berlin, came down and the Cold War began to thaw, with people dancing in the streets. Such joy overflows from deep within the human heart.
I learned about this joy as a seven-year-old in Sunday school, when Mrs. Emma Lee Smith taught us to sing “I’ve Got the Joy.”
I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.
Where? Down in my heart.
Where? Down in my heart.
I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.
Down in my heart to stay.
The first stanza alone is enough to qualify the song as a classic, but the best part for a child is the last verse:
And if the devil doesn’t like it he can sit on a tack. Ouch!
Sit on a tack. Ouch!
Sit on a tack. Ouch!
If the devil doesn’t like it he can sit on a tack.
Sit on a tack to stay.
The last stanza was wonderful most of all for its participatory nature. We began the song seated. Then when we shouted “Ouch!” we jumped out of our chairs. And at the end we rolled on the floor and laughed with joy at how accurately we had depicted what it would look like if the personification of evil did indeed sit on a tack. Childlike joy! Fullness of joy!
Another song from fifty years ago comes from Three Dog Night who recorded “Joy to the World.” Their first line was not “Joy to the World, the Lord is come” but was instead – and those of you who share such a refined musical taste as I do will remember this –
Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
was a good friend of mine.
I never understood a single word he said,
but I helped him a-drink his wine.
Three Dog Night did not sing in Southern Baptist churches!
However a little known fact – at least it was to me – is that a common interpretation of this song is that the bullfrog is the prophet Jeremiah from the Bible, and the song represents God’s desire to unite all people in joy. Now I don’t know if that is true, but it helped provide justification for the song’s inclusion in this sermon! And my research I must be honest was pretty shallow on this point! Can’t risk allowing facts getting in the way of a good story!
As to the wine, much to the chagrin of many-a teetotaling Southerner, the first miracle Jesus performed in John’s gospel was a miracle of joy turning water into wine at the wedding feast of Cana. I love what Dostoevsky wrote of this miracle in his novel The Brothers Karamazov: Ah, that sweet miracle! . . . He worked his first miracle to help men’s gladness. He who loves [us] loves [our] joy.3
I hope you have tearful experiences of grace-filled God-breathed joy like Charles Finney. I hope you have the joy of rolling on the floor like a child celebrating evil’s demise. I hope you have Cana moments of wedding feast gladness. But in most of life
we will likely discover that real joy has little to do with circumstances and everything to do with God’s quiet presence. God is the great joy deep down inside us. Amidst all the pain in your heart and in this world we cannot forget there are reasons for joy that remain. I encourage you to remember them now more than ever. Hang onto them and let your life keep giving them joyous expression. Let the angel’s “good news of great joy for all people” fill your ears and lift your heart. Ask God for the courage to embrace joy.
Wendell Berry says, “Be joyful, even though you’ve considered all the facts.”
The apostle Paul calls us to “Rejoice in the Lord always.”
And though it may take great courage for you this year, with the good news of great joy ringing in your ears, open your heart to the joy of God’s presence and: Wrap the packages and turn on the Christmas lights. And after you splash around in the shallow puddles of Three Dog Night, swim with rapture in the deep-watered joy of Handel’s Messiah. Decorate the tree. Enjoy the calories. Laugh out loud (on the floor if you think you can get back up!) Dance and celebrate.
For God is our joy. And God is with us. And if the devil doesn’t like it, he can sit on a tack!
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- Mary Oliver, “Don’t Hesitate.” Devotions, Penguin Press, 2017, 61
- Mary Oliver, “We Shake With Joy.” Devotions, Penguin Press, 2017, 70
- Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. C. Garnett. Heritage Press, 1949, 277