Joy That Finds Us

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.” — Isaiah 9:2

Years ago, I was on a family trip to Ireland, and we'd spent a very long day exploring Dublin.  We were tired, and my boys were starting to wear on each other's nerves, which meant they were both wearing on mine. 

As we walked through the Temple Bar district, we came upon a crowded pub and could hear music inside.  On impulse, I headed inside, and the rest followed me.  I heard one of my boys complain as we went, "Dad, what are we doing?" 

Just as we walked in, the band announced they were going to play a favorite song, and they broke into "Country Roads" by John Denver.  

When I tell you that the entire pub began to sing along, it's not an exaggeration.  After the first verse and chorus, I looked over at the family, and we all grinned at one another before lustily joining in.  

It was a moment of pure joy that found us, and I will never forget it.  Singing "Country roads/take me home/to the place/I belong..." with a pub full of Irish patrons, and watching my boys delight as they sang with me, is a memory I will always cherish.  

Joy often arrives like dawn—quiet, slow, and unexpected. It steals across the horizon of our lives before we are fully awake. Too often, we imagine joy as the result of achievement, resolution, comfort, or ease. 

But in Scripture, joy frequently breaks into places where it should not logically appear: in exile, in waiting, in the wilderness, even in a manger.

Isaiah’s promise was given to a people who could not see their way forward. Their world was shadowed by fear, uncertainty, and loss. Yet into that deep darkness, God promised light—and not a faint flicker but a radiance capable of altering their very existence. 

This is the kind of joy Advent dares us to believe in—not a joy we earn or manufacture, but one that finds us where we are.

The shepherds were not seeking joy when the angels found them. Mary was not expecting joy when Gabriel appeared. Joseph was not positioned for joy when he considered abandoning his engagement. Yet joy broke in—uninvited, unanticipated, and unearned.

Advent joy is rooted not in circumstances but in presence. God is with us. God is entering our darkness. God is coming near. This is why Paul could tell believers to “rejoice always,” not because life is painless but because God is faithful, and joy is the fruit of God’s nearness.

Where are you tempted to believe joy cannot reach you? What waits in the shadows of your life that you assume God cannot illumine? Advent joy is not an escape from hardship but a light that pierces it. It is not denial but defiance—God’s declaration that darkness does not win.

Let joy find you today. Let it surprise you. Let it interrupt your worry. We don’t wait for joy—we wait with joy, because the One who is coming is already here.

Prayer

God of radiant joy, break into our shadows with Your light. Help us release our grip on fear and expectation so that You may find us with Your surprising delight. Give us courage to welcome joy even when life feels heavy, and teach us to trust that Your promise shines even in the darkest places. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do you most need joy to surprise you today?

2. How can you practice openness to joy instead of trying to manufacture it?

3. What does it mean to you that joy is rooted in God’s presence, not circumstances?