What Is Joy?

My dad was reading the eulogy at my great aunt’s funeral when it happened: the slip of the century. It sent us all into peals of laughter.

A pair of sisters had married a pair of brothers. One of those couples became my grandparents; the other never had any children of their own and thereby became my third set of grandparents. Emma was my last living grandparent when she died at age ninety-two. She was a fiber artist with amazing skill. We wiped tears and sniffled as my father read her list of accomplishments.

“Emma was an expert in knitting, sewing, quilting, embroidery, and tatting.”

Except he didn’t say “tatting.” He said, “Tattooing.” Tatting is a form of lacemaking. Tattooing is not tatting.

My siblings and I erupted into laughter through our tears. Our great aunt was matronly, proper, and lovely. The mental image of her with a pack of cigarettes rolled in the sleeve of her white t-shirt, one dangling from her lips while the tattoo needle buzzed was just too much for us to keep in. A snicker turned into guffaw, which in turn rolled into a full belly laugh that rippled around the sanctuary.

How could we be laughing at such a difficult time for our family? Emma was the last of her generation, and with her passing, our link to the past was gone. We laughed through our tears. Oh, did we laugh! Our joy wasn’t dependent on our circumstances or our feelings. Were we happy? No, our sadness was palpable, but we were joyful.

What you’re going through right now might be bigger than the death of a great aunt, but you can still have joy through the trial.

In Psalm 30, the psalmist praises God for bringing him through his trials with joy: “I will exalt you, Lord, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me. Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me. You, Lord, brought me up from the realm of the dead; you spared me from going down to the pit. Sing the praises of the lord, you his faithful people; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:1-5 NIV).

Everything is worse during the night: the wait, the fever, the loneliness, the pain, the fear. In the darkness, we can lose hope and grow fear. But if we have joy, those things that flourish in the dark will dissipate in the light.

Joy is different from happiness in that joy is an attitude, a way of being in the world that defies circumstances. Happiness is based on circumstance. Opening the perfect Christmas present, pulling into the prime parking space, your favorite jeans zipping up easily, or not getting that speeding ticket are all circumstances that can make you happy.

But what brings you joy?

Joy is a something we can only receive. It’s one of the fruits of the spirit (see Galatians 5:22-23) and just as one cannot manufacture gentleness or peace, once cannot manufacture joy. God gives us the fruits of the spirit not as a get-out-of-pain-free pass, but as a means to handle the dark times we all will encounter in this life.

When I was a teenager, I had to take a turn checking our sheep during the night when they were lambing. One moonless and cloudy night, I walked out at 2 a.m. with my feeble flashlight to see if any of the ewes needed help or any new lambs had been born. As I walked to the barn, I saw a dark, hulking shape looming over six feet in the air. At the top, a pair of yellow eyes glowed. I screamed and ran into the house, dropping my flashlight as I fled back to safety.

I woke my dad, who came with me back into the dark to confront that hulking shape. With my dad by my side and a stronger flashlight, we discovered that the giant creature with the glowing eyes was a corner fencepost with our barn cat, Sebastian, sitting on the top.

In stronger light and with my dad by my side, it wasn’t as scary. There was still darkness. There were still things out there. But the fear was gone.

And now? Now it’s one of our family’s legendary stories. What was terrifying in the dark of night is hilarious in the light of day.

That’s the beauty of joy. Joy is that light in the darkness. Joy is the laughter through the tears. Joy is the hope that morning will come, and with it the rejoicing.

The thirtieth Psalm finishes with, “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise you forever” (Psalm 30:11-12 NIV).

Everything feels worse in the dark, but joy comes in the morning to all of us who hope.

Annie Carlson is rooted like a turnip to the plains of North Dakota where she raises great food, large numbers of farm animals, and three free-range kids with her husband. You can find her with either a book or knitting needles in her hands as she dreams up her next adventure.

Photograph © Tyler Nix, used with permission