Rejoicing by Candace Echols
Today is the first day I’m scheduled to meet with a group of friends by candlelight to do an Advent reading together. We set aside three days in December for this. We found a dark room at church so we could meet during the day—while our children are in school—and still have candles. We bought 45 votives on Amazon. We read the assigned passages. We formulated questions for discussion. We got it all ready. And my child woke up sick.
So I’m out.
On my way home from dropping my other children at school, I was right in the middle of my internal pity party when the word rejoice popped into my head. Lately, I’ve been reading Philippians. It’s striking how often Paul mentions the word rejoice throughout that book; it’s even more striking how the Holy Spirit picked that moment to bring it to mind. As I sat at a red light rolling the concept of rejoicing around in my brain, I threw out every possible reason for why finding joy did not apply in this situation. Paul was talking about the big stuff—imprisonment, near-death experiences—that sort of thing; not Parents Day Out. Are we really asked to rejoice when the stuff that makes up our calendars goes awry? Does it even matter if we rejoice? At that moment, at that red light, I was 100% convinced that complaining to myself was a far better solution. What could rejoicing possibly give me that complaining could not?
Attacking Anxiety
Anxiety is everywhere right now. We know it. We feel it. Some of us take medication to help with it. Part of living in this pandemic is growing accustomed to near pandemonium, and that can be anxiety-producing. But as I got home from carpool and intentionally re-read and pondered Philippians, I noticed that Paul used the words “rejoice” and “less anxious” in the same context two different times. In the first instance, he was talking about his fellow worker, Epaphroditus, who had been sick and almost died. This paragraph includes words like distressed, ill, longing, death, mercy, and sorrow upon sorrow. No one would blame Paul for his anxiety, but he says, “I am the more eager to send him, that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be less anxious.” The rejoicing of Paul’s brothers and sisters in Christ reduced his anxiety. Hear that again: the rejoicing of his brothers and sisters in Christ reduced Paul’s anxiety.
Of course, Paul needed to be engaged with them—and he was—through letters from afar. He needed to invest in them—and he had—for years through prayer and shepherding. He needed to share with them—and he did—as he sent his fellow worker to be with them. And he needed for them to rejoice—for his sake, as well as their own—because that’s how God designed the body of Christ to work.
Maybe, just maybe, my sisters at the candlelight meeting could be blessed if they see my receiving what the Lord gives and finding joy in it, even when it is different from what I would have chosen. Perhaps it could even impact their faith in God’s good plan in their own lives—during their own red light pity parties; because every time we trust God more, we are anxious less.
Defeating Darkness
The Advent reading my friends and I are doing is through SheReadsTruth and this year, the topic is Light, which is why we’ve chosen to meet by candlelight. Through the many votives all over the room, we will be reminded of Christ’s love shattering the darkness through—of all things—our joy. Paul says, “Do all things without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life.” He follows it up with, “Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. Likewise, you also should be glad and rejoice with me.”
Joy is something everyone is after. Teens, in particular, can be drawn to Jesus through laughter, delight, and a spirit of gladness, all of which are products of rejoicing. Just yesterday, in a conversation with some fellow moms, we all realized how little we laugh. How can I be a mother to five children and laugh so rarely? I can tell you: busyness, logistics, and details. They are working hard to steal my joy as a mom, but I am responsible to rise above and take hold of my eternal perspective even amidst our crazy-busy culture. Because I know Jesus, I know this world is not my home. “I’m just a-passing through,” as the old song goes. While laughter seems as effervescent as the bubbles in my La Croix, it’s actually wildly valuable as a tool through which Jesus might call my family to himself.
Our act of rejoicing communicates a message of trust in a Father who loves us and knows what is best for us. Proverbs talks about a wise woman who is clothed with strength and dignity and who laughs at the time to come. A body of believers in a flurry of panic with their eyes on temporary things shines like a battery-operated tea light that was left on last Christmas. When we cut the complaining and rejoice in our circumstances, we become a lighthouse in this dark world, pointing lost people (maybe even our own people) to a loving Savior.
Relate Reasonableness
Reasonableness has gone the way of the Dodo Bird. But sandwiched right between “Again, I will say, Rejoice!” and “The Lord is at hand” is “Let your reasonableness be known to everyone.” Reasonableness is important to God. What does it mean to be reasonable? Synonyms are consistent, clear-cut, credible, judicious, thoughtful, sensible, logical, rational, sane, and wise. Our world needs this now more than ever.
My friends and I are meeting by candlelight so we might slow down because living at breakneck speed does not foster an atmosphere where a heart is capable of rejoicing or being reasonable about things.
Instead, hurry inspires short-term, frenetic thinking. It doesn’t communicate a heart that is trusting God for his good plan because the heart hasn’t slowed doesn’t enough to contemplate God—or any plans he might have. In our culture, reasonableness seems fluffy, like an add-on; not necessary, but nice if you can manage it. In God’s economy, a person who exhibits reasonable thinking is one that is aware that the Lord is at hand, and is seeking to please him by rejoicing in all circumstances, even circumstances that manifest at red lights.
Paul highlights the hard stuff in Philippians because that’s what he had to work with. I haven’t had any near-death experiences, nor have I been shipwrecked or stoned. But I am disappointed, bothered, and annoyed by things that come across my path on a daily basis. When I grumble and complain instead of rejoicing in what God has allowed, I am robbing my friends and family of a spirit of peace, light, and wise thinking that God offers his children through their fellowship with each other. No internal pity party is worth all that.