Joy: More Than a Feeling
An Emotional Faith, Part 3
I have found that the word “joy” elicits a wide range of responses in people. Some people cling to it, some people feel as though they've never truly experienced it, some people separate it from happiness, some even try to avoid it (it’s a thing). There has to be more to this “joy” thing.
Well, there is.
There’s a moment in Paul’s letter to the Philippians that always catches me off guard. Sitting in a Roman prison cell (unsure if he’s going to live or die, which is crazy), Paul tells the church in Philippians 4:4 (ESV), “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.” Wait. Paul… from chains… in suffering… while staring down death? And he’s telling us to rejoice?! What is this?!
It forces us to pause and ponder the depth of true joy. If joy is just a warm, fuzzy feeling or a constant smile plastered on your face, then Paul is either delusional or manipulative. But if joy is something deeper, something rooted in God himself rather than in our circumstances, then suddenly his words carry incredible weight.
Joy is one of those emotions that the Bible not only describes but also commands us to experience. That’s strange to us. How can you command an emotion? You can’t just snap your fingers and say, “Hey! Be happy, dangit!” But biblical joy isn’t surface-level happiness. It’s a settled confidence in God’s goodness that steadies us even when life is unraveling.
Joy in the Story of Scripture
When you zoom out, joy runs like a thread through the entire biblical story. In the Old Testament, joy often bursts onto the scene when God rescues his people. For example, Israel singing after the crossing of the Red Sea (see Exodus 15). Their joy wasn’t about winning the lottery. It was about deliverance, about God proving he was faithful when everything seemed hopeless.
The Psalms echo this again and again. Psalm 30:5 (ESV) says, “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Joy isn’t the absence of sorrow… It’s what God brings on the other side of it.
Then Jesus comes along and ties joy directly to himself. At the Last Supper, knowing he’s about to be betrayed and executed, he says in John 15:11 (ESV), “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” Notice that joy isn’t something we manufacture. Joy is actually something we receive from Christ. He plants it in us, even in the shadow of the cross.
And then Paul, who seems to take Jesus at his word, tells us to rejoice not just occasionally, but always. Always?! Joy isn’t dependent on the environment outside of us but on the Spirit who dwells inside of us.
Misdiagnosing Joy
Here’s where it gets tricky. In our world, we confuse joy with positivity. We think being joyful means ignoring pain, never crying, or refusing to be honest about struggle.
Bad news, y'all. That’s not biblical joy… that just, eh, denial.
Paul wasn’t blind to suffering. He didn’t sugarcoat his hardships. Read 2 Corinthians 11 and you’ll see the laundry list of beatings, imprisonments, hunger, and shipwrecks. Yet even there, he describes himself as “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (see 2 Corinthians 6:10). Somehow grief and joy weren’t opposites for Paul… they lived together in tension.
That’s important for us. Sometimes we fake joy because we don’t want to look unspiritual. Pretending doesn’t honor God. True joy actually makes room for tears, doubts, and groaning because it’s not rooted in us, but in him.
The Spirit’s Joy vs. the Flesh’s Substitute
So how do we know if our joy is Spirit-born or flesh-driven?
The flesh’s substitute for joy is cheap thrills, moments of distraction that make us forget our pain for a little while. It could be binge-watching, shopping, scrolling, or chasing the next accomplishment. None of those things are inherently evil, but they’re shallow wells. The water runs out quickly, and we’re left thirstier than before.
Spirit-born joy, on the other hand, is durable. It can survive the midnight hour in prison like Paul and Silas singing hymns in Acts 16. It can anchor us when everything else feels unstable. It doesn’t mean we don’t hurt, but it means we’re held.
[[ For what it’s worth, one of the best ways to diagnose joy in your life is to ask what happens when the props are removed. When the comfort, the money, the affirmation, the success, when those things are stripped away, what’s left? If joy is gone, then it wasn’t joy. If joy remains (because it’s anchored in Christ), then you’re tasting the real thing, if that makes any sense. ]]
Why Joy Matters
Joy isn’t a side benefit of Christianity. Joy is, in essence, a witness to the world. In Nehemiah, when God’s people rediscover the Law and break into worship, the leaders tell them, “The joy of the Lord is your strength” (see Nehemiah 8:10). Joy strengthens us in ways sheer willpower can’t.
It’s also contagious. A joyful church is a powerful apologetic in a world where cynicism and despair are default settings. We know a God who saves. Even if everything else falls apart, he is still enough. Nice.
Practicing Joy
So how do we step into joy when it feels distant? Ah, you always ask such good questions!
First, practice remembering. Joy grows when we recall what God has done. Israel’s feasts were designed as joy-rehearsals… reminders of rescue, so to speak.
Second practice rejoicing. Sometimes joy is sparked by obedience. We choose to sing, even when we don’t feel like it, and in that act God rekindles joy.
Third, practice receiving. Joy ultimately isn’t earned… It’s given. Which means sometimes the holiest thing we can do is open our hands and let the Spirit’s joy fill us again.
Hopefully, That Made Sense
Joy isn’t pretending. It isn’t constant positivity. It isn’t surface-level happiness. Joy is the Spirit-given confidence that God is who he says he is and will do what he promised to do. It can live alongside tears. It can sing in prison. It can rejoice even in weakness.
And if Paul could write “Rejoice in the Lord always” while in chains, maybe that’s the invitation for us too. We are to anchor our joy not in changing circumstances, but in the unchanging Christ.
Until next time,
Petey




Total 🔥Pastor!!!!
Yes indeed. I rejoice that we have a God who doesn't let go. My health and especially my eyesight are deteriorating from the long term effects of radiotherapy after a brain tumour nineteen years ago - but I know that I have a God who still has plans for me, who still holds me close to His heart and shelters me under His wing. Having been forced to retie after 43 years as a nurse, I now help nurses who are under stress at work, as Chaplain for a Charity, and preach every Sunday. I rejoice in His amazing love for every person I meet.