Made Complete (Joy 1)
Choosing abiding love over performative happiness
A blessed and joyful third Sunday of Advent to you. We’re a little over halfway through Advent and a little less than halfway through these fruit of the Spirit. As I’ve been studying these fruit in relationship to Jesus’ teachings and example, it’s become clear to me just how interconnected they are.1
Joy is no exception. It is deeply connected to hope. Joy can be seen as the fulfillment of hope. It’s the surprising realization, or even actualization, of what was hoped for, even if it was not clearly known. Joy, as Jesus talks about it, is inextricably connected to love (as are all the fruit, actually). And then as well, joy is connected to peace, in that both are a culmination of what is right.
But joy is also misplaced or misnamed. Again, we are talking about these fruit in light of Jesus, not necessarily the general societal understanding of each word. For instance, joy is often related to happiness. But biblically, they are not the same.
Joy is one of those words that can be easily misunderstood, especially in the life of faith. We often assume joy is a feeling, a mood, or a kind of emotional brightness that comes and goes depending on how well life is going. But the joy we encounter in the gospels is something much deeper, sturdier, and far less fragile.
Jesus never treats joy as a command to feel a certain way. He does not ask his followers to manufacture joy or summon it through willpower. Instead, joy appears as something that emerges, the natural result of remaining close to him. In John’s gospel, joy flows from abiding: abiding in Christ, abiding in his love, abiding in the life God is offering. Joy, then, is not something we chase. It is something that grows when our lives are rooted in the right place.
This is why joy is so closely bound up with love. Love received and love lived out inevitably give rise to joy. Where love is absent, joy quickly withers. Where love is present - even in fragile, costly, or communal forms - joy takes shape. This is not the loud joy of celebration alone, but the quiet joy of belonging, of being known, of sharing life together.
Importantly, the joy Jesus speaks of does not deny suffering or pretend that grief is not real. Biblical joy is honest. It can hold lament and hope at the same time. It does not require the absence of pain in order to exist. In fact, it often shows up most clearly within hardship, not beyond it. Joy is what remains when suffering is acknowledged but no longer allowed to define the future.
Jesus speaks of joy as something that can be “made complete.” That language suggests fullness, alignment, and direction. Joy is not fleeting pleasure but a sense that life is being lived toward its true purpose, even when the road is difficult. It can bring a smile to the face: a knowing, experienced smile of satisfaction. It can also result in a kind of exuberance, I suppose. But such elation is not a constant requirement. Joy is the deep recognition that, despite everything, we are oriented toward God’s kingdom and not away from it.
And like all the fruit Paul names, joy is not a personality trait or a natural disposition. It is not reserved for the optimistic or the emotionally buoyant. Joy is the work of the Spirit, formed slowly over time in people who remain open to God’s presence. It is cultivated, not forced. Grown, not performed.
This is the joy Advent invites us into. It’s not the denial of darkness, but the steady light that refuses to be extinguished by it.
John 15:9-11
As the Father loved me, I too have loved you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy will be in you and your joy will be complete.
Prayer
God,
Make my joy complete. That is, make Christ’s joy complete in me.
Keep me from the pressure to manufacture joy. Don’t let me try to pretend it into existence. Especially in this season, with plastic wrappings and fluffiness all around, help me to root my life deeply in your love, so that joy may grow as fruit, not performance. Like a beautiful plant, growing from the combination of the honesty of dirt, the chill of water, and the heat of the sun.
Let your joy live in us, quiet, steady, and resilient. Let it shape us into a people whose lives point toward your coming kingdom.
Holy Father of all creation, I see your loving justice in Jesus of Nazareth. By your Spirit, make me more like him.
Amen.
Here is the song I recorded for joy. Duh. What else would I pick? There are fewer Advent songs better than Joy to the World. In my early pastoral days, I missed this - I, thinking I was protective of the season of Advent in keeping it distinct from Christmas, was calcitrant in not singing “Christmas carols” until December 25th. There is some worthy effort in such a thing. But this song should not be excluded. Advent is a season of coming, the recognition that Christ has come and he’s coming again. As such, that verb in the first line, as awkward as it may feel, is spot on:
Joy to the world, the Lord IS come.
By the way, I continue to use “fruit” to refer to all these words because when I try to think of another word, I cannot. Emotions, qualities, personality traits - the fruit aren’t any of these. They are indeed results of the work of the Spirit of Christ. They are what the Spirit produces, as we invite her to do so, giving ourselves over to God’s work in us and through us.