The Road to Rejoicing

I had plans to write this blog about rejoicing, but I don’t feel like rejoicing this morning. I have a throbbing headache, my house is really dirty, my kids are kind of smelly, I’m really smelly, I have to go to the stinky courthouse, and I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything for days. In fact, I feel like I’ve gone backwards with my little resident Christmas troll (that would be my 3-year-old) undoing everything I’ve tried to do. We’re in the homestretch to Christmas, folks.

I fervently want someone to come with a magic wand and clean up this sticky, smelly house, and then take my children for the day so that I can get something done, and then maybe take a nap. I just want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. I want my mom.

And then I read this devotion. One line stood out to me:

“If you try to find joy in the circumstances of your life, you’ll always come up short.”

Today, I’ve been doing exactly that. I’ve been trying to find joy in the circumstances around me. I’m coming up extremely short.

I have to stop. Jesus is coming, he is very near, and I’m all wrapped up in worldly things. I want so desperately for this life to be better, nicer, more restful, more Christmas-ready, that I’ve lost track of Jesus. Like the Jews, I want a Bread King, someone to make this life easier. But that’s not why he came.

He came with an eternal agenda, not an earthly one, because he had our souls in mind. He knew that the hardships of this world, as heavy as they are at times, are only temporary. He knew that the next life is infinitely more important.

This morning, I need an attitude adjustment. I need to get back to the work of preparing my heart. I look to John the Baptist, who called out to the people of Israel, people also preparing for Christ’s coming. His message was repentance. He was the:

“Voice of one calling:
In the wilderness prepare
    the way for the Lord^[a];
make straight in the desert
    a highway for our God.

This preparation was the road to rejoicing.

“Every valley shall be raised up,
    every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level,
    the rugged places a plain.”

Smoothing out the road meant smoothing out our hearts: the hard work of leveling our mountains of worldly expectations, our hills of arrogance, the rough terrain of our sins, the rugged places of sinful attitudes. And we do that all through repentance.

In this sorrow over sin, I let go of worldly pleasures and current circumstances. I have one and only one thing to hang onto: Jesus.

“Comfort, comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and proclaim to her
that her hard service has been completed,
that her sin has been paid for,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
double for all her sins.”

The depths of our repentance are in proportion to the heights of our rejoicing over grace. When words like this hit the repentant heart, there is no greater comfort. My sin is paid for. These circumstances are not forever. Heaven is my home. And in this comfort, we find the wellspring of rejoicing: Jesus, forgiveness, peace and joy. We can rejoice like Simeon, whose heart was so ready for his Savior:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
    you may now dismiss^[a] your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
     which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
    and the glory of your people Israel.”

This Savior is our source of glory, our light, our hope, our reason to rejoice. Armed with this, I can face this day and all its circumstances: dirty or clean, rich or poor, cranky or happy, busy or resting. My joy is not wrapped up in the hear and now, but in the hereafter.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! …The Lord is near.”