Joy
By the middle of December, many of us are tired in ways that do not show up on a calendar. The days are shorter. The lists are longer. The noise of the season can make it difficult to hear what is actually happening inside us.
This is where Advent places joy.
Not as a command to feel cheerful. Not as a reward for getting everything right. Advent joy is quieter than that. It does not rush in. It waits. It notices. It often arrives without announcing itself.
Joy, in the Christian imagination, is not the same as happiness. Happiness depends on circumstances aligning. Joy has more to do with presence. It is the steady awareness that something good is already underway, even when the work is unfinished and the answers incomplete.
This third week of Advent invites us to pay attention to that kind of joy. The kind that shows up in ordinary moments. A shared laugh. A familiar song. A small kindness that lingers longer than expected. These are not distractions from the season. They are signs of it.
We light the rose candle this week, not to deny the darkness, but to remember that light is already moving toward us. Quietly. Faithfully. With patience.
As you settle into this Sunday evening, let this be a place to rest. Let joy be something you receive rather than something you chase. Advent does not ask us to manufacture joy. It asks us to notice it, and to trust that its source is deeper than our circumstances.
Welcome to Week Three. Joy.
Surprised by the Nearness of Joy
Joy rarely arrives the way we expect it to.
We imagine it as something that will come later, after the work is finished, after the tension eases, after life settles into something more manageable. We assume joy requires favorable conditions.
But joy, at least the kind Advent speaks of, does not wait for resolution.
C.S. Lewis spent much of his life trying to name this. In Surprised by Joy, he describes joy not as pleasure or happiness, but as a sudden, piercing awareness of longing. It arrives unexpectedly. It wounds and awakens at the same time. And just as quickly as it appears, it slips away, leaving behind an ache that is strangely hopeful.
Lewis noticed something important. Joy never points to itself. It always points beyond. The experience is never enough on its own, which is precisely what makes it meaningful. It tells us we are made for more, and that the more we are made for is already reaching toward us.
Advent understands this kind of longing. It is the season of waiting that knows something is coming, even if it cannot yet be seen clearly.
Joy shows up inside that waiting.
It might come in the middle of an ordinary afternoon. A song heard through an open window. A memory stirred by the smell of cold air. A moment of clarity while walking without a destination. Nothing dramatic happens. And yet something shifts.
These moments do not last. Trying to hold on to joy only makes it disappear faster. But joy was never meant to be possessed. It was meant to be received as a sign.
A sign that this world is not all there is.
A sign that our desires are not mistakes.
A sign that the waiting itself matters.
Advent joy does not remove sorrow. It threads its way through it, reminding us that the story is larger than the chapter we are currently reading.
Joy is not something we achieve.
It is something we recognize.
Often in passing.
Always as a gift.
“Let The Day Begin” ~ The Call
A song of steady, shared joy. Not escape, but beginning again. Voices that sound like neighbors. Hope with work to do. Let it remind you that joy often arrives when we take the next faithful step, together, even while the road ahead remains unfinished.
Surprised by Joy ~ C. S. Lewis
Lewis writes about joy as longing awakened, not happiness achieved. Brief, piercing, and honest, joy points beyond itself toward a deeper home. This is a book to read slowly during Advent, reminding us that desire is not a mistake, but a sign.
SoundCloud: Conversations with Frederick Buechner
In these recorded conversations, Buechner speaks with warmth and clarity about faith, longing, and everyday life. His reflections hold joy and sorrow
together, reminding us that joy often arrives quietly, woven into ordinary moments, pointing beyond itself toward grace.
Listen →
“Joy is the serious business of heaven.” ~ C.S. Lewis
“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”
~ Frederick Buechner
“Joy is not the absence of suffering, but the presence of God.”
~ Robert Schuller
Noticing Joy
Once each day this week, pause long enough to notice one moment of unplanned joy. Do not seek it out. Let it find you.
It may be small. A sound. A kindness.
A brief lightness you did not expect.
Write it down. Do not explain it. Simply notice, and give thanks.
Joy rarely announces itself. It moves quietly, often while we are paying attention to something else. Advent trains us to notice these movements, not to capture them, but to receive them with open hands.
As this week unfolds, walk a little slower. Listen a little longer. Let longing remain what it is. A sign that something good is drawing near.
Go gently into the days ahead. Joy is closer than it appears.
Chase The Kangaroo 
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