Holding Up the Light of Joy

Rev. Dr. DeWayne L. Davis

December 15, 2024, Third Sunday in Advent

Scripture: Isaiah 12:2–3; Philippians 4:4–7

Nearly 18 months ago, one of our dearest friends in the whole world died. This was a man of deep faith—a minister, a teacher, a gospel music recording artist, and a dessert and pastry chef with a catering business. I’m talking about a prayerful person, the kind of person you knew was praying for you whenever you crossed his mind—a generous man who loved life and who never postponed joy. Seven years before his death, he was diagnosed with a cancer that we knew would be hard to beat. And yet, I don’t remember grieving too much after his diagnosis because he did not grieve. Of course, there were visible tears, fears, and concern, but he continued to show joy and gentleness the way he’d always shone. He did not become weary or despondent. He never stopped enjoying life. Through treatment, remission, clinical trials, and rotating specialists, he always kept his joy. He never stopped giving, living to the fullest, and rejoicing. So, when he died, I was angry with him because I thought he never let on how sick he really was, that perhaps he was just pretending to be okay to spare us worry. Something about the human condition makes it hard to believe that joy could prevail amid bad news or hopeless circumstances.

But as I overcame my anger, I realized something more significant about what my friend’s life and experience showed me. He never misled us about his condition. He never pretended to feel better than he was. There was no fake optimism or denial about what was really going on. He was never unrealistic about his odds of survival. In hindsight, I realized that I failed to recognize what it looks like to let the peace of God guard your heart and mind such that the possibility of death can’t shake your joy. I had trouble processing that while he was fighting for his life, he was also celebrating the life he was privileged to live. I couldn’t see that while he was coming to terms with dying, he never lost his joy in living. I had a hard time seeing his pain and struggle because he never stopped holding up the light of joy. As the praying man he was, I have no doubt my friend prayed for healing and his life. I do not doubt that he prayed for his spouse and their child. And I suspect he did not get God’s direct and immediate response. And yet, as I reflect on the whole experience, I know he was holding up the light of joy for all to see.

So, I read Paul’s letter to the Philippians with new eyes. I’ve read our Scripture lesson today many times over the years, and I always understood Paul’s intended message to the church in Philippi and how he wanted them to comport themselves in the face of fear and uncertainty. But after my friend’s death, I now understand Paul better. I now understand how one can radiate joy when the understandable feeling in a time of trial would be despair and weariness. Paul wrote this letter from prison, possibly in Rome, Ephesus, or Caesarea; there is no consensus among the historians and biblical scholars about which, and the church folks are anxious and afraid for his welfare and well-being. What does it mean that the missionary who founded their congregation, the apostle they relied upon for spiritual leadership, has been caught up in the death engine of the empire? Their hearts and minds are troubled.

It must have been confounding to the church to hear from Paul not fear, regret, or even sadness about his incarceration but rather expressions of joy. From the opening salutation and prayer of this letter to the closing benediction we read in our Scripture lesson, Paul rejoices. He rejoices because the church has stood firm in God despite its setbacks. He rejoices because they hold him in their hearts and prayers even though they are troubled. He rejoices because, while those who confined him to prison thought it would weaken the Christian movement, the gospel was spreading despite persecution such that even some in the imperial guard accepted the good news of Jesus Christ. For Paul, as long as Christ is proclaimed and because God is near, he will rejoice. Neither prison nor death can steal his joy. This isn’t a posture of striking a happy mood or a superficial enactment of the aphorism to look on the bright side. Prison walls are confining, and the suffering is real. Yet, he rejoices. God is near. In this situation, Paul, in prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, can go to God. Paul shows us what it means to hold up the light of joy when one’s present circumstances seem hopeless.

So, in this closing section of the letter to the Philippians, Paul urges the church to “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice . . . God is near.” Don’t let the present circumstances, whether persecution from the empire or fear and doubt within, distract from God’s work. God is near. That statement, “God is near,” makes this passage an Advent text. God is coming to be with us. We cannot always know how, when, and through whom God will reveal God’s self, especially during challenging times. Still, we can live expectantly and faithfully in anticipation of God’s liberating work. Oh, what a great joy to know that God is not through and still intends to do something about this present life and world. If God is near, grace is true, and Jesus lives, the church has cause to rejoice and something to say to the world. Show the world the gentleness, forbearance, kindness, and patience that Jesus showed. Don’t let the world’s worries burden them with anxiety, but in prayer and thanksgiving, let God know what’s going on. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard their hearts and minds. Paul wants them to hold up the light of joy for all the world to see.

On this Sunday of Advent, the day we focus on the theme of joy, I pray that we lean into the presence of the God near us, the promise of Emmanuel, God with us, as the source of joy even amid anxiety and struggle. As I search my memory, not just of my dear friend who held up the light of joy during his battle with cancer, but also of church folks and people of faith throughout my life, I can find so many examples of those who embody the Apostle’s teaching to rejoice always. I remember the people in the church of my youth who radiated joy while they struggled with poverty and marginalization. As they confronted lost jobs, low wages, chronic illness, substandard housing, and unsafe neighborhoods, they still sang with unreserved praise, “I get joy when I think about what God has done for me.” They sang, “After all, after everything I’ve seen and been through, I still have joy.” They sang, “This joy I have, the world didn’t give it to me. The world didn’t give it to me, and the world can’t take it away.” It was a message that I needed to hear. It is a message the world needs to hear. It is a witness that holds up the light of joy in a world shrouded in despair and violence.

The church and people of faith cannot escape the shadows of brokenness in the world, but we have a story to tell of hope, peace, joy, and love that we often fail to share. The theologian Daniel Migliore reminded me how often the church fails to hold up the light of joy, especially as the world hungers for good news. He said, “Christian life, in both its personal and corporate expressions, often suffers a deficit of joy . . . Do the lives of Christians today radiate joy, or is their witness to the world better described as sullen and weary?” Where is that light of joy in our midst? No matter what challenges we face, or how hard it gets to live faithfully and expectantly when the future seems unpromising, God is our strength and might, our salvation. As a beloved community, we sing and testify that the Promised One is coming to be with us and that God will break into time and history to usher in God’s righteous reign. We have something to show the world. That’s why we sang with faithful expectation at the start of Advent, “Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel, shall come to you, oh Israel.” And we will close out the Advent season, singing without hesitation or reservation, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come.” As the people who have access to the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, we have cause to rejoice always, holding up the light of joy.