Learning to Rejoice with Others
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Learning to Rejoice with Others

We had been waiting in line for, well, as long as you wait in a line at Disney World. When it was our turn, my girls would be riding Buzz Lightyear’s Space Ranger Spin together while Joe, my husband, and I shared a spaceship with our preteen son, Peyton. The ride involves a game where you shoot your laser at various targets and try to beat your opponent. The trouble was there were only two guns. I’m not an expert marksman, so I forfeited my ray gun to Joe so he and Peyton could duke it out. I’d be the cheerleader.

As Joe squeezed his six-foot-four-inch body between Peyton and me, he tried to pass off the opportunity to have fun with our son to me, but I argued that I was fine to observe and encourage. Quickly tired of our faux bickering, Peyton looked up at Joe and blandly stated, “Dad, I think it makes Mom happy to watch us be happy. That’s fun for her. Just shoot the gun.” Boys. Sometimes they don’t seem to notice anything; sometimes they bring you to tears.

Celebrating others’ joy is one of my favorite things, and he had noticed. This man-child, two months from turning thirteen, noticed that I rejoice with him and his dad and sisters, that their joy is my joy.

We returned from our trip three weeks ago, but the words Peyton spoke about me have lingered in my mind. If he notices that I share in his happiness, do others notice me sharing in their happiness too? And if not, why not? Am I choosing with whom to rejoice and whose joy I overlook?

Learning to Rejoice with Others

In Romans 12, Paul gives a brief outline of what being a follower of Christ entails. Much of what he says is dedicated to the way we treat those around us—both our friends and our enemies. Verse 15 specifically reminds us to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (NIV).

One of the positive things I’ve noticed about rejoicing with others is that it feels great! Walking with friends through infertility and watching them give birth to or adopt a baby is thrilling. Welcoming new family members through marriage is exciting. Watching my kids skip up the driveway with this quarter’s report card reflecting their hard work is awesome!

But sometimes rejoicing isn’t easy; celebrating someone else’s win can be tough when it’s been a while since you’ve had one of your own. It’s even more difficult when you think the person doing the rejoicing doesn’t deserve the good thing that’s happened to them.

I think there’s a reason Paul’s next topic in this chapter has to do with the way we treat our enemies. God doesn’t only want us to celebrate the wins of people we like; he wants us to rejoice with everyone. We’re to lay down our pride and share in the joy of those around us because God created them in his image too. If Christ would rejoice, we should rejoice.

While refusing to share in the joy of an enemy seems normal, failing to rejoice with a friend seems downright crummy. Sometimes I’m jealous of my friends’ circumstances when I compare them to my own. I resent the predictability of the lives of my civilian friends while our nomadic military life is so chaotic. I struggle to celebrate with friends who have been teaching at the same school for ten years while I’m just trying to teach at the same school for more than two years in a row.

When it comes down to it, pride is what allows us to believe we shouldn’t have to rejoice or that it’s okay to sit out a moment of joy. We believe the lie that our friends already have enough cheerleaders and that our enemies don’t care whether we share in their joy. Satan will use our pride against us whenever he can because it’s the most effective tool he has.

When I struggle with allowing my pride to get in the way of celebrating others’ joy, I turn to prayer. Confessing my faults to God forces me to come clean with him and myself. So often I’ll dwell in my pride, telling myself it’s totally okay to be jealous and that I’m allowed to live in disappointment with my circumstances instead of sharing in the joy of a neighbor. When I do this, my friend doesn’t get to genuinely celebrate her news, and I miss out on sharing the love of Christ by rejoicing alongside her. It’s the same with my enemies. Anyone can love their friends, but Christ followers are called to love their enemies as they love themselves.

After I pray, and if the occasion calls for it, I send a short note or text celebrating alongside the person. Most of the time, even when I don’t feel like rejoicing, the act of cheering for those around me reminds me who God has called me to be. I’m the person who smiles and cheers, even when someone else is having all the fun.

When we got to the front of the Disney World line, Joe refused to shoot the gun. So Peyton and I cackled and shot at Emperor Zurg’s henchmen while Joe hooted and shouted out our scores as we went. I beat Peyton by nearly 300,000 points. An avid gamer, he was completely shocked that his old mom had mopped the floor with him. He looked up at me, laughing, and gave me a huge high five.

It was a tiny moment, but I could see him share in a bit of my joy, too, and I’ve been searching for ways to rejoice ever since.

Becky Yurisich, Contributor to The Glorious Table is a full-time Army wife and mom, and an occasional teacher of first graders. She is an unapologetic follower of Jesus and the University of North Carolina Tar Heels. Becky holds a bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education from UNC, and dreams of writing a book. She blogs at beckyyurisich.com.

Photograph © Priscilla Du Preez, used with permission

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