When things are just not going well, when life takes a terrible turn, and you’re dealing with one bad thing after another, the last thing you want is for someone to come along and say: “Hey, be happy! It’s not that bad!”
Because sometimes, it really is that bad. And we need space to grieve.
In the early days of the pandemic, when we couldn’t gather in-person for worship, and when we had to cancel vacations and graduations and family reunions and so many other important, meaningful events, I did my best to provide space in worship for our collective grief. I didn’t want to be the one who put on a fake smile and pretended everything was alright, when everything wasn’t alright.
I knew that it’s good to express grief.
The people of Israel had many reasons to grieve; deeply significant reasons. The desolate aftermath of the exile is well-described in an article by Brian Hiortdahl, pastor of Resurrection Lutheran Church in Chicago. He wrote:
“Those who had been under Persia's benevolent but powerful thumb returned to find their homeland of Zion a gaunt skeleton of its former glory. God's temple was rubble; the infrastructure had crumbled; the landscape had been ruined by destruction, decay and disorder. Local politics were unstable under the hot breath of empire; rebuilding efforts were slow and ineffective in a sagging, unsteady economy. The glorious past was dead, and the future was bleak.”
How would you feel, in this situation?
And yet, the prophet still proclaims to the people: “Rejoice greatly!”
Isn’t that a bit insensitive?
On the other hand, it could be that the people had grieved enough already. It is believed that these last chapters of Zechariah were actually written by some of Zechariah’s followers, quite a few years after Zechariah himself prophesied. Maybe they had grieved; maybe their grieving had gone on for many years; maybe now a new generation was growing up that had known nothing but grieving. So it could be that the time for grieving had come to an end, and it was time to move on.
We see this throughout scripture. There is time and space for people to grieve; but there is also time and space for moving on.
In 1 Samuel, chapter 16, the prophet Samuel is grieving over Saul. Saul was still alive, but failed to be the king Samuel—or, God—hoped Saul would be. It was really the high hopes and expectations Samuel had for Saul that he was grieving.
But enough time had passed, that God said to Samuel: “Enough grieving over Saul. I have rejected him from being king over Israel, and have chosen someone else. So, get ready and go; it’s time to move on.”
Maybe that’s what’s going on here in Zechariah. Grief over the former state of Israel, and grief over the destruction of the temple, had its time. But that time had now passed. As Ecclesiastes says, there is a time and place for everything, including a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
The time for grieving was over; now it was time to rejoice.
I just spent another week at Loch Leven, the camp and retreat center owned by Bixby Knolls Christian Church and the other congregations of the Pacific Southwest Region.
At camp this summer, our theme has been the fruits of the Spirit, which are presented in the fifth chapter of Galatians. JOY is one of the fruits of the spirit. At camp, I got the kids to memorize all nine fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
In fact, to help get the kids to memorize this, I taught them a song…
So, I’ve been thinking a lot this summer about the fruits of the spirit. And, especially, I’ve been thinking a lot about joy.
Joy is just a hard thing to feel, to manifest, when life is full of anxiety and stress. “Rejoice greatly,” as Zechariah commands, is not something that comes easily when the news headlines are all downright depressing.
Racial injustice, Queer oppression, ongoing destruction of the climate, an economy that increasingly works only for the wealthiest people—how can one rejoice at such a time?
Christianity, which can provide the wisdom and guidance we need in such times, has become less important in people’s lives, and many of the ways Christianity is manifested in our country today are perversions of what the actual gospel of Jesus Christ is all about.
Then there are the personal and family struggles that I and some of you have been dealing with…
So maybe you, too, are finding it hard to rejoice, to manifest the spiritual fruit of joy in your life…
Because of all this, everytime, this summer, when I’ve recited the fruits of the spirit at camp, or sung the fruits of the spirit song, the spiritual fruit of joy always grabs my attention.
What does it mean to practice joy in my life? What does it mean to practice joy in the life of our church? How can we practice joy in every circumstance, to “rejoice in the Lord always,” as Paul says?
I guess it’s something we need to work at; something we need to be intentional about.
When it comes to making plans for the church, how often do we consider the need for events and activities that help us feel and express and share joy with one another and with the world?
Joy doesn’t always come naturally. We think it’s the same thing as happiness, that it depends on what’s going on around us. When things are good, we’re happy. When they’re not good, we’re not happy.
But joy is deeper than that, and more consistent.
There are two creeks at camp: Mountain Home Creek, and Skinner Creek.
Mountain Home Creek always has water in it, all year long, no matter how much or how little rain or snow the mountains receive.
But Skinner Creek is often dry in the summer. With the exceptionally wet winter we’ve had this year, and with the snow that still hasn’t completely melted from the top of Mt. San Gorgonio, high above Loch Leven, there is, this summer, some water in Skinner Creek, but most years, it runs dry in the summer.
But that’s only what you can see on the surface. Underground, in even the driest years, there is still water there. And that water quenches the thirst of the sycamores and the blackberries that wouldn’t be there, if there wasn’t a consistent supply of water.
Happiness is like the water on the surface. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes it’s not, depending on whether it’s been a wet year or a dry year.
Joy is like the water that flows underground. Even in the dry years, when the water on the surface is gone, the water underground still flows.
So the question is: even when there’s no happiness on the surface, can we still access the joy that is present deep within?
Sometimes, in the midst of my stress and worries, I overlook all the many reasons I have for joy. And if I become more intentional about working to manifest joy, I discover that I do in fact have reasons for joy.
To experience and manifest and share joy with the world, we have to practice. We have to work at it. We have to exercise that spiritual muscle. Like the muscles in our body, joy gets stronger the more we use it.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like exercising every day. But even on the days I don’t feel like it, I exercise. (Most of the time.) And it may not even be a very good workout. But it’s practice. It’s consistent practice.
In the same way, I don’t feel like being joyful every day. But I know that if I practice joy, then I will be more joyful.
So if I’ve spent the whole day moping, I should try to make a conscious effort to work harder for joy.
I may not feel like it at all. I may feel like continuing to mope and to pout. And my efforts at being joyful may not be very, uh, fruitful.
But the fruit doesn’t grow all at once, it grows bit by bit, day by day. (Patience is another fruit of the Spirit.) The muscle doesn’t grow all at once, but bit by bit, day by day… as long as you practice, as long as you train, as long as you exercise.
“Rejoice in the Lord always.” The apostle Paul didn’t always have reason to be happy. He spent much of his time in prison. He had to deal with conflict among the believers. He had to settle disputes. Yet through it all, he had joy that was rooted in the love of God he experienced through Jesus Christ.
Paul’s joy, like his hope, was based not on his present circumstances, which changed from day to day, and which sometimes were quite bad; rather, Paul’s joy was based on his knowledge of what God was doing in his life and in the world.
It was the big picture that kept Paul filled with joy.
Just because Zechariah (9:9) and Paul (Philippians 4:4) say we should rejoice, that doesn't always mean it's easy. But our joy is rooted in something deeper than our day-to-day circumstances that can make us happy or sad.
For Zechariah, joy came not from military might, or how the economy was doing, but from God’s promises of peace and freedom. As a sign of this peace and freedom, Zechariah described the coming of a humble, peaceful king, quite different from the arrogant and war-prone kings the world was used to.
Some generations later, people recognized Christ as fitting that description. Christ is the Prince of Peace. He is the humble servant. He is the one who shows the world a new way, the way of love.
The way of love is always there, always available to us, just as Christ’s love for us is always there and always available to us.
No matter what you’re going through, or what’s going on in the world, Jesus loves you.
Nothing about you, and nothing the world says, can or will ever change that.
And that is our reason for joy.
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