Advent: He is Joy

I have to admit that writing about joy in this Advent season feels deeply bittersweet for me. Two years ago, when I was anxiously awaiting the birth of my firstborn son, Max, my church asked me to write a personal Advent piece also centered on joy. At that time, I talked about choosing to find joy in Max’s Down syndrome diagnosis. I reveled in the parallel between awaiting the birth of our Lord Jesus and that of Max. I wrote, “Spencer and I are filled with joy as we anticipate the arrival of our baby who we know will change our lives. And as we wait for Max, we also celebrate the Advent, and wait with great joy and anticipation for the arrival of Christ, who changes everything.”

My eyes fill with tears and my heart feels heavy as I remember the woman I was when I wrote those words two years ago. I have grown and changed in so many ways since then. Because of course, Max did change our lives, just in a very different way that we expected.

I don’t know about you, but in this season the joy sometimes feels distant. I can remember the simple, uncomplicated joy I felt before loss, and I can still see glimmers of it, but it seems duller now. Christmas is no longer the simple, joyful season it once was; it now carries with it a painful reminder of the child we’re not sharing it with—his empty stocking, the quiet halls, the ornament on the tree he will never get to hang. There’s something and someone missing, and I feel it deeply this time of year.

As I sat down to begin writing this piece, struggling with my conflicted feelings in this season, I was reminded of Shauna Niequist’s words about Advent in her book Bittersweet. “There are moments in this season when I don’t feel a whole lot like Christmas, but I do feel like Advent. Advent gives us another option beyond false Christmas cheer or Scrooge. Advent says the baby is coming, but He isn’t here yet, that hope is on its way, but the yearning is still very real. Sometimes, depending on what we’ve lost this year, Advent saves us from giving up on Christmas and all its buoyant twinkling-light hope forever. Advent allows us to tell the truth about what we’re grieving, without giving up on the gorgeous and extravagant promise of Christmas, the baby on His way.” (pg 91)

As I struggle to feel the easy joy I once felt in the holiday season, I’m profoundly thankful for Advent—for the reminder that while the yearning is hard and heavy, it’s also hopeful. Advent is a reminder that things are not as they should be—that this world is broken and in need of a Savior. Because of this brokenness, our bodies are broken and babies don’t always get to live on this side of Heaven. My yearning and my grieving reminds my heart why it so badly needs Jesus.

And, of course, we have the privilege of knowing that the baby is on the way, and that He will make all things right and new.

In Luke 4, Jesus enters the synagogue and reads these words about Himself from Isaiah 61,

““The Spirit of the Lord is on Me, because He has anointed Me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent Me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind,

to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

It’s strangely reminiscent of the words the angels sang from on high just a few chapters earlier as they heralded the birth of Christ: “I bring you good news of great joy for all the people.”

Sister, Jesus doesn’t just bring joy—He is joy.

As we sit in the Advent season, and await the coming of Christ as a baby, we know joy because we know what He brought with Him. We know that the birth of Christ ushered in a new covenant, a new way of relating to God. Christ brought a personal, intimate relationship with the God Most High to Earth. He is our Great High Priest, who sympathizes with our weakness. In His time on Earth, He knew the depth of pain and loss, and can therefore truly understand our weariness, our longing, and our heartbreak. And He came to bring favor and joy to people He knew desperately needed it.

Sister, if your joy is lacking, or dull, or complicated this Christmas season, look to Him. Look to Christ, whose birth brought the promise of life. The grieving and bittersweetness you feel does not diminish the joy; it’s simply a reminder that while Jesus came as a baby many years ago, we are actually still waiting. We’re waiting for His return, the day when, “there will be no more death, or mourning, or crying, or pain” (Revelation 21:4 NIV). The day when our joy will be made complete in His presence.

But as you wait, and as you celebrate this season that may hold more pain than happiness this year, remember that His joy truly will come in the morning.

Sam is a graphic designer and marketing professional in Frisco, Texas. She and her husband, Spencer, have been married since 2011, and have two children in heaven, Max & Baby Martin, and one in their arms, Lachlan. They enjoy serving in their church, building community, and restoring their 100 year-old home. Sam is in two book clubs and can always be found with a book in her purse and a warm beverage in her hand.

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