Joy Comes Through the Mourning

Scripture — Zephaniah 3:14-20 (NRSV)

Sing aloud, O daughter Zion;
shout, O Israel!
Rejoice and exult with all your heart,
O daughter Jerusalem!
The Lord has taken away the judgments against you;
he has turned away your enemies.
The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst;
you shall fear disaster no more.
On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem:
“Do not fear, O Zion;
do not let your hands grow weak.
The Lord, your God, is in your midst,
a warrior who gives victory;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will renew you in his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing
as on a day of festival.”
I will remove disaster from you,
so that you will not bear reproach for it.
I will deal with all your oppressors
at that time.
And I will save the lame
and gather the outcast,
and I will change their shame into praise
and renown in all the earth.
At that time I will bring you home,
at the time when I gather you;
for I will make you renowned and praised
among all the peoples of the earth,
when I restore your fortunes
before your eyes, says the Lord.

Devotion

On my way to my first state championship in wrestling, I remember regular two-a-days, a sprained knee, cutting weight, and pain. There’s nothing like walking with a lingering wrestling gym smell from late October until February—followed by a short breather, and another run of the same things from March until late July. It was an early first lesson, one that repeats in our lives that teaches us that to really live is to work through struggle; a struggle that when learned, is less about external opponents and more about our own plight to learn what it means to follow Jesus, to be human, and to be a part of a community of fringes.

Wrestling was struggle but it was worth it. It felt like punishment most days. My coaches were determined to punish us (and were winning.) It was painful but it was trivial. As much as it hurt, the Israelites in their human struggle felt much worse. What do you do when God says:

I will utterly sweep away everything
from the face of the earth, says the Lord. (Zephaniah 1:2)

Nobody had Bible apps back then, but they had each other. I want to believe those boomer grandmothers and fathers from previous generations had to tell younger generations that Zephaniah was not making this up. They weren’t alive during the Mosaic era but oral history alone should have been enough: if God can wash everything away it wouldn’t be anything to sweep everything away.

And this is just verse two. In good Judeo-prophetic genre fashion, you can expect to read epic parallelism and play on words of the epic sweeping that God will bring, the “terrible end he will make of all the inhabitants of the earth.” (1:18)

Which is why when Zephaniah turns the corner to say “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion. Shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!” this does not make a lot of sense at surface value. Who is going to sing and shout after they’ve been swept away?

I remember feeling pain in parts of my body that I didn’t know there were muscles to hurt. I remember losing some matches to the same opponents again and again. And yet I also remember specific moments where there was a shout in my heart and joy that didn’t align with my present circumstances. The limited sophomoric faith ascribed to wrestling making me able to sing and rejoice was the same reason Zephaniah can tell the Israelites to sing also: “The Lord, your God, is in your midst” (3:17a).

God can go through all the details about the implications or unpack the way things will unfold. But if God doesn’t and even if God is silent, God is still present and there is a fullness of uncanny gracious joy available. Joy is not a response to the metrics. It is not subjective to the outcomes we place on circumstances. Joy is a disposition toward the presence of God.

God came to Mary and unfolded for her a story of a child who would come to the world to redeem the nations. But her child would also endure much pain. And she sang for joy.

God came to his cousin by way of Elizabeth while in the womb. John the Baptist would eventually be beheaded. But even he leaped in the womb and his mother sang for joy also.

God came to Simeon in the temple as a baby. Simeon would most likely not live long enough to see the child Messiah live, die, and be resurrected. But he took the Son in his arms and sang “My eyes have seen salvation.”

And now God comes to you. We lean to success as the impetus for singing. But that is not the message of the Kingdom. There will be abundance and there is struggle in the body of Christ. Advent is the lesson of waiting and the gift of hope. When we are convinced that Jesus is present, there is a reason for singing. And oh, with what rejoicing will we exult him with all our heart when we know he is here.

Find all Life for Leaders devotions here. Explore what the Bible has to say about work at the High Calling archive, hosted by the unique website of our partners, the Theology of Work Project. Reflection on today’s Life for Leaders theme can be found here: Advent Reflection: The Song I Most Want to Hear.