Choosing JOY in the Midst of Unmet Expectations
When Joy Breaks Through the Darkness: Finding Hope in Unexpected Places
The Christmas season carries a peculiar weight. For many, it's a time of celebration and warmth, but for others, it brings an aching awareness of what's missing—an empty chair at the dinner table, a relationship that's fractured, dreams that remain unfulfilled. The cultural expectation to be joyful can make the struggle feel even heavier.
Yet within the ancient story of Christ's birth lies a profound truth about joy that transcends our circumstances and defies our expectations.
The Problem of Unmet Expectations
Consider Mary and Joseph's journey to Bethlehem. They knew they were carrying the promised Messiah, the Son of God himself. Surely God would orchestrate something magnificent for His arrival. Perhaps as they approached the palace in Bethlehem, they wondered if someone would rush out to welcome them. Maybe a kind stranger would offer them shelter. At the very least, they could rent a room at the inn.
None of that happened.
Instead, a 90-mile journey on donkey back while nine months pregnant. No palace welcome. No comfortable room. Just a stable where animals ate and slept—and did all the other things animals do.
This wasn't how anyone would have written the story. The gap between expectation and reality was vast.
We face this same tension constantly. We believe God has called us to something—a ministry, a relationship, a career—and we map out how we think He'll be faithful. Then life unfolds differently. The steps we anticipated don't materialize. The path looks nothing like we imagined.
Unmet expectations have a way of stealing our joy.
The Power of "Suddenly"
But here's where the story takes a turn. Throughout Scripture, we see a pattern: things can change suddenly.
In Acts 2, the disciples were gathered when "suddenly there was a sound from heaven like a roaring and mighty windstorm." Pentecost arrived without warning.
On the road to Damascus, Saul was pursuing his mission when "a light from heaven suddenly shone down around him." In an instant, everything changed.
And in Luke 2, shepherds were going about their ordinary work when "suddenly the angel was joined by a vast host of others, the armies of heaven, praising God."
These weren't scheduled appointments. They weren't the result of perfect planning. They were divine interruptions that transformed everything in a moment.
If God could suddenly fill an upper room with His Spirit, suddenly redirect Saul's entire life trajectory, and suddenly light up the sky for shepherds, then He can suddenly step into your loneliness, your addiction, your darkness, and change everything.
Your circumstances can shift suddenly. Hope can break through suddenly. Joy can arrive suddenly.
The Shepherds' Gift
The choice of shepherds as the first recipients of the birth announcement is significant. These were people on the margins—ceremonially unclean, unable to worship in the temple with others, considered among the lowest social classes. If you were designing a PR campaign for the Messiah's arrival, shepherds wouldn't make the list.
But God's ways consistently confound our expectations.
The angel's message to them was clear: "I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people. The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born today in Bethlehem."
These unlikely messengers then became the first evangelists, rushing to find Mary and Joseph and sharing what they had witnessed. Imagine Mary's response—she had her own angelic encounter, and now these strangers arrive with confirmation that yes, this child is exactly who she was told He would be.
Sometimes we become shepherds for others. God lays something on our hearts—an encouragement, a word, a blessing—and we're tempted to dismiss it. "I don't know enough Bible. I'm not qualified." But faithfulness in that moment can bring exactly the confirmation someone desperately needs.
Joy Is Not Happiness
Here's where we need to make a crucial distinction: joy is not an emotion; it's a choice.
This sounds contradictory until you read passages like these: "In all of our affliction, I am overflowing with joy" (2 Corinthians 4:8). "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake" (Colossians 1:24). "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds" (James 1:2).
These verses make no sense if joy is merely a feeling dependent on circumstances. How can you have joy in affliction? How can you rejoice in suffering?
The Greek word used in some of these passages (hegeomai) suggests something carefully considered—a deliberate weighing of options, a thoughtful decision. It's the language of someone who has counted the cost and concluded that despite everything, this is worth it.
Paul captures this perfectly in Philippians 3 when he says he considers everything else as loss compared to knowing Christ. He's done the math. He's weighed the pros and cons.
And the joy of knowing Jesus far outweighs any cost.
The Joy Set Before Him
Hebrews 12:2 gives us perhaps the most powerful picture: Jesus, "who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."
What was joyous about the cross? The flogging? The humiliation? The spikes through flesh?
Nothing.
But Jesus saw beyond the immediate agony to what was coming—you and me, freed from sin's weight, reconciled to the Father, able to walk in communion with God, experiencing the abundant life He always intended for us.
That vision sustained Him through the darkest hours. Joy doesn't emanate from our circumstances. It emanates from being centered on Christ and His goodness in our lives.
The Enemy of Joy
The greatest enemy of joy isn't pain—it's distraction.
We enter the Christmas season and immediately feel stressed, burnt out, overwhelmed, and tired because we focus on gift lists, party schedules, obligations, and responsibilities. Our eyes dart from one demand to another, never settling on what truly matters.
It's not that these things pull us completely away from God. They just get our eyes off what's important. That's all the enemy needs—just a distraction from the real reason we can have hope even in difficult circumstances.
The angel proclaimed good news for "today." Not one day when everything is perfect. Not yesterday when things were better. Today.
Every single morning is an opportunity to experience God's goodness. But we let our "one days" ruin our "todays." One day when I'm married. One day when I have that job. One day when things are different.
Or we let yesterday's regrets steal today's possibilities.
Living in the Moment
What if we paused in our moments—really paused—to recognize the gift in front of us? Not just to snap a picture, but to understand the joy of the moment itself?
This is what Advent invites us into: a present awareness of God's presence, a willingness to see Him in the midst of imperfect circumstances, an openness to sudden divine intervention.
Things may not be perfect. You may have experienced loss. You may be struggling with something you can't overcome on your own. But suddenly, things can change. One encounter with Jesus can transform everything.
The same God who came to shepherds in a field comes to you in your struggle. The same God who met Mary in her confusion meets you in yours.
And He brings the same message: good news of great joy.
Not happiness dependent on circumstances, but deep, abiding joy rooted in the reality that you are seen, you are loved, and you are held securely in the hands of a faithful God who specializes in sudden breakthroughs.
This Advent season, may you discover—or rediscover—that joy isn't found in perfect circumstances, but in the perfect presence of the One who enters our mess and makes it holy.
Yet within the ancient story of Christ's birth lies a profound truth about joy that transcends our circumstances and defies our expectations.
The Problem of Unmet Expectations
Consider Mary and Joseph's journey to Bethlehem. They knew they were carrying the promised Messiah, the Son of God himself. Surely God would orchestrate something magnificent for His arrival. Perhaps as they approached the palace in Bethlehem, they wondered if someone would rush out to welcome them. Maybe a kind stranger would offer them shelter. At the very least, they could rent a room at the inn.
None of that happened.
Instead, a 90-mile journey on donkey back while nine months pregnant. No palace welcome. No comfortable room. Just a stable where animals ate and slept—and did all the other things animals do.
This wasn't how anyone would have written the story. The gap between expectation and reality was vast.
We face this same tension constantly. We believe God has called us to something—a ministry, a relationship, a career—and we map out how we think He'll be faithful. Then life unfolds differently. The steps we anticipated don't materialize. The path looks nothing like we imagined.
Unmet expectations have a way of stealing our joy.
The Power of "Suddenly"
But here's where the story takes a turn. Throughout Scripture, we see a pattern: things can change suddenly.
In Acts 2, the disciples were gathered when "suddenly there was a sound from heaven like a roaring and mighty windstorm." Pentecost arrived without warning.
On the road to Damascus, Saul was pursuing his mission when "a light from heaven suddenly shone down around him." In an instant, everything changed.
And in Luke 2, shepherds were going about their ordinary work when "suddenly the angel was joined by a vast host of others, the armies of heaven, praising God."
These weren't scheduled appointments. They weren't the result of perfect planning. They were divine interruptions that transformed everything in a moment.
If God could suddenly fill an upper room with His Spirit, suddenly redirect Saul's entire life trajectory, and suddenly light up the sky for shepherds, then He can suddenly step into your loneliness, your addiction, your darkness, and change everything.
Your circumstances can shift suddenly. Hope can break through suddenly. Joy can arrive suddenly.
The Shepherds' Gift
The choice of shepherds as the first recipients of the birth announcement is significant. These were people on the margins—ceremonially unclean, unable to worship in the temple with others, considered among the lowest social classes. If you were designing a PR campaign for the Messiah's arrival, shepherds wouldn't make the list.
But God's ways consistently confound our expectations.
The angel's message to them was clear: "I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people. The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born today in Bethlehem."
These unlikely messengers then became the first evangelists, rushing to find Mary and Joseph and sharing what they had witnessed. Imagine Mary's response—she had her own angelic encounter, and now these strangers arrive with confirmation that yes, this child is exactly who she was told He would be.
Sometimes we become shepherds for others. God lays something on our hearts—an encouragement, a word, a blessing—and we're tempted to dismiss it. "I don't know enough Bible. I'm not qualified." But faithfulness in that moment can bring exactly the confirmation someone desperately needs.
Joy Is Not Happiness
Here's where we need to make a crucial distinction: joy is not an emotion; it's a choice.
This sounds contradictory until you read passages like these: "In all of our affliction, I am overflowing with joy" (2 Corinthians 4:8). "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake" (Colossians 1:24). "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds" (James 1:2).
These verses make no sense if joy is merely a feeling dependent on circumstances. How can you have joy in affliction? How can you rejoice in suffering?
The Greek word used in some of these passages (hegeomai) suggests something carefully considered—a deliberate weighing of options, a thoughtful decision. It's the language of someone who has counted the cost and concluded that despite everything, this is worth it.
Paul captures this perfectly in Philippians 3 when he says he considers everything else as loss compared to knowing Christ. He's done the math. He's weighed the pros and cons.
And the joy of knowing Jesus far outweighs any cost.
The Joy Set Before Him
Hebrews 12:2 gives us perhaps the most powerful picture: Jesus, "who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."
What was joyous about the cross? The flogging? The humiliation? The spikes through flesh?
Nothing.
But Jesus saw beyond the immediate agony to what was coming—you and me, freed from sin's weight, reconciled to the Father, able to walk in communion with God, experiencing the abundant life He always intended for us.
That vision sustained Him through the darkest hours. Joy doesn't emanate from our circumstances. It emanates from being centered on Christ and His goodness in our lives.
The Enemy of Joy
The greatest enemy of joy isn't pain—it's distraction.
We enter the Christmas season and immediately feel stressed, burnt out, overwhelmed, and tired because we focus on gift lists, party schedules, obligations, and responsibilities. Our eyes dart from one demand to another, never settling on what truly matters.
It's not that these things pull us completely away from God. They just get our eyes off what's important. That's all the enemy needs—just a distraction from the real reason we can have hope even in difficult circumstances.
The angel proclaimed good news for "today." Not one day when everything is perfect. Not yesterday when things were better. Today.
Every single morning is an opportunity to experience God's goodness. But we let our "one days" ruin our "todays." One day when I'm married. One day when I have that job. One day when things are different.
Or we let yesterday's regrets steal today's possibilities.
Living in the Moment
What if we paused in our moments—really paused—to recognize the gift in front of us? Not just to snap a picture, but to understand the joy of the moment itself?
This is what Advent invites us into: a present awareness of God's presence, a willingness to see Him in the midst of imperfect circumstances, an openness to sudden divine intervention.
Things may not be perfect. You may have experienced loss. You may be struggling with something you can't overcome on your own. But suddenly, things can change. One encounter with Jesus can transform everything.
The same God who came to shepherds in a field comes to you in your struggle. The same God who met Mary in her confusion meets you in yours.
And He brings the same message: good news of great joy.
Not happiness dependent on circumstances, but deep, abiding joy rooted in the reality that you are seen, you are loved, and you are held securely in the hands of a faithful God who specializes in sudden breakthroughs.
This Advent season, may you discover—or rediscover—that joy isn't found in perfect circumstances, but in the perfect presence of the One who enters our mess and makes it holy.
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