Philippians 4 verse 4 is a verse that may be familiar to many of us. it says: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” I’m sure you’ll agree that’s very good advice from Paul. It reminds us that Christians are called to rejoice. But is the decision to rejoice always an easy one to follow through with? Today, I’d like us to think about what rejoicing is, and also what it isn’t.
First of all, it’s worth reminding ourselves of where Paul was when he wrote these famous words. He was languishing in a prison cell, chained to Roman guards. Surely that wasn’t an easy place from which to rejoice. So was Paul just the eternal optimist? Was he one of those happy grinny Christians whom non-believers tend to find frustrating because they don’t seem to live in the real world? Far from it. Paul was actually a very soberminded realist. You can see that just from reading more of his letters.
I’d like to tell you about a precious couple who have been like a spiritual mother and father to me, especially during one of the most difficult seasons of my life. Ann and David turned up at our church one Sunday because their health was poor, and the church they’d attended all their married life was a bit further away so harder for them to get to. Ann was waiting for a double hip replacement and watching her get around was excruciating. However, she had to keep going despite the pain, because David developed something called Meniere’s disease in his early thirties. This meant he couldn’t drive, he had frequent mini strokes that caused massive problems for his short-term memory, and he tended to fall over a lot because of poor balance. As you can imagine, he was and is extremely reliant upon his wife.
This couple invited me to their house one day because Ann and I shared a love of Christmas lights. I thought I was light crazy, but I’d never seen anything like it. There were literally lights everywhere, and I loved it. I also had the most amazing time just being with them. Even though this couple belonged to my parents’ generation, their house soon became my favourite place to be. They took me on daytrips, and we laughed from the moment we left the house until we got back again. Most people with two totally crumbled hips wouldn’t even have left the house, but Ann found her ways of keeping going, because she had to.
Not long after I’d met them I experienced a terrible relationship breakup, and they practically let me move into their home. They sat and listened to my woes, prayed with me, hugged me, and through it all, they kept making me laugh. In this and many other ways, hey modelled true Christianity more than anyone else I had ever met.
However, there’s something else I need to tell you about Ann and David. When their eldest son was in his late teens and hadn’t long passed his driving test,, he picked up a friend one night who was staggering home in a bit of a state. The young man was very agitated, and he distracted Ann and David’s son and caused him to crash the car, killing the young driver outright and leaving a family bereft.
If ever there was a couple who had the right to be bitter, it was Ann and David. They had faced family tragedy, poor health, and other things I do not wish to share now. they should’ve been the most miserable people I knew, but instead, they were two of the most joyful. That’s not to say they didn’t cry or share in the emotions of others. David cried more in prayer than any other man I’d heard up until that point, but they were tears of awe over the goodness of God. He also sometimes cried when he talked about his son and how much he missed him, but those were tears of acceptance, never of blame or anger, even toward the boy who had caused the accident.
For me, and I’m sure for others who knew them, Ann and David epitomised a verse from Nehemiah chapter 8 that we all know so well. “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” (Nehemiah 8: 10.)
If you take a look into Nehemiah chapter 8, you will find an account of how the people of Israel were feeling sorrowful. Only this time, it was a sorrow brought about by conviction. They were hearing the law of the Lord being read, and they realised they had fallen short of his standards. Yet despite that, Nehemiah told them they were to rejoice. Why? Simply because they were God’s holy people. They belonged to him, and despite their sin and failure, he loved them. There is a lesson in this for us, because if we can’t rejoice over anything else, no matter what we’re going through, we can surely rejoice over that.
I love this idea of gaining strength through rejoicing. The joy of the Lord is my strength. However, let’s be honest for a minute, because when we go through difficulties, we don’t feel strong, but rather weak. And the longer it goes on and the more we have to handle, the weaker we become. So how can we regain our strength? Not by complaining or grumbling, although I’m not suggesting we shouldn’t share our problems with close family and friends. We will talk more about that later. God isn’t expecting us to put on happy smiley faces and say everything is fine when it’s not, but there is huge encouragement and joy to be found in his Word.
As we read about the trials and tribulations of those who have gone before us, we can rejoice that we serve the same God they did. He is the God who rescued Daniel from the lion’s den, the one who went into the fiery furnace with the three Hebrew boys to keep them alive, and the one who gave Esther favour with her husband the king so that he didn’t execute her, even though she approached him without permission to plead for the lives of her people. All these stories and so many more remind us of who God is, and they cause us to rejoice. They help us put our own lives into perspective.
That’s why Ann and David were so strong in their joy because they knew their Bible. They lived in the Word, and they drew encouragement from it every day.
What sorts of things can we find in God’s word? Well, if we consider the Psalms for a moment, we find that the people who wrote them weren’t always happy and rejoicing. Sometimes they were going through really tough seasons, and they poured out their hearts to God with raw honesty. You might be surprised at some of the things you read in the psalms. Yet how many times does the writer’s perspective change as the psalm progresses? How many times do they start with weeping and end with joy? And what changes?
I believe they begin to remind themselves of who God is, or of what he has already done for them in the past.
One such example is Psalm 36, where David begins by complaining about the sinfulness of the wicked. In verse 1 he says there is no fear of God before their eyes. In verse 2 he says they flatter themselves too much to detect or hate their sin. Verse 3 says the words of their mouths are wicked and deceitful, and they fail to act wisely or do good. Verse 4 declares that even on their beds they plot evil, and they commit themselves to a sinful course. David is having a right old grumble about sinners here, isn’t he? But just take a look at the next few verses.
“Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies. Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, your justice like the great deep. You, Lord, preserve both people and animals. How priceless is your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light.” (Psalm 36: 5-9.)
What a contrast! David is reminding us that yes, the world is sinful, but God is loving and merciful. And just think about the love and mercy he has already extended to you and me. You can literally feel the mood changing in the Psalm. And that’s just one example.
Another of my favourites is psalm 73. In this one, the Psalmist had nearly lost his foothold because he had begun envying the arrogant. He was annoyed because the wicked seemed to be prospering and getting away with their evil deeds. However, then he entered God’s sanctuary, and he had a sharp reminder of the destiny of the righteous compared to the destiny of the wicked. As another psalm puts it, weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30: 5.) My dear friend Nozi from Zimbabwe talks about living in the constant tension between lament and gratitude and rejoicing, and we see that in the psalms better than anywhere else in the Bible.
So God wants us to rejoice, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want us to be real. We’re not supposed to say we’re fine when we are far from it. the song “Truth be Told” by Matthew West puts this into words in a much clearer way than I ever could. It says: “Lie number 1; you’re supposed to have it all together. And when they ask how you’re doing just smile and tell them “Never better!” Lie number 2; everybody’s life is perfect except yours. So keep your messes, and your wounds, and your secrets safe with you behind closed doors. The truth be told, the truth is rarely told. I say “I’m fine! Yeah, I’m fine! Oh, I’m fine! Hey I’m fine!” but I’m not; I’m broken. And when it’s out of control I say it’s under control, but it’s not, and you know it. I don’t know why it’s so hard to admit it, when being honest is the only way to fix it. There’s no failure, no fall, there’s no sin you don’t already know, so let the truth be told.”
I believe wholeheartedly in those words, but how does that fit in with rejoicing, and am I giving contradictory advice? One minute I’m saying rejoice, and the next I’m saying be transparent.
To clarify things, let me go back to Ann and David. They never denied their pain, either over the loss of Darren or that which was caused by their physical ailments. They never pretended to be fine when they weren’t. Yet they were always fine in the Lord. And even now, although they’ve been through loads of other things that would make your toes curl, they’re still rejoicing in Jesus.
Rejoicing in Jesus isn’t saying I’m fine when I’m not. It’s saying: “I’m going through a horrible time right now. I’m scared. I’m overwhelmed. But I know Jesus is with me, and with his help and the love of the people who are praying for me, praise God I’m going to make it through.” That’s the joy of the Lord that gives us strength. It’s not happy clappy or wishy washy. It’s not a smile on our faces while inside we’re crying. If you feel like crying, then cry. Pour it out. Jesus wants to put his arms around you. But after you’ve cried, fix your heart and your mind back on where it belongs, and let Jesus give you a clearer perspective. Remember the battle is the Lord’s, and ultimately, he’s going to win, whatever we might have to go through during the process.
I love these verses from Habakkuk chapter 3 starting at verse 17. “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails, and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Saviour. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights.”
You can replace the images in those verses with whatever your personal worries might be. Though the price of gas and electric is becoming higher than I can afford … Though my loved one is dying of cancer and there seems to be no cure in sight … Though I am confronted with war or Covid 19 every time I turn on the news … You insert the things that are bothering you, but then remember to add: “Yet I will rejoice in you, Lord.”
Let the joy of the Lord become your strength, and rest in him as you wait for him to act on your behalf. Cry out to him, pray, plead, but then surrender. He doesn’t expect you to rejoice in your circumstances, but rather to rejoice in who he is in the midst of your circumstances, because he never changes. He is the constant one – the one who is the same yesterday, today, and forever.