As I grow older, I discover more and more that the greatest gift I have to offer is my own joy of living, my own inner peace, my own silence and solitude, my own sense of well-being. When I ask myself, ‘Who helps me most?’ I must answer, “The one who is willing to share his or her life with me.”
-Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved

Sharing joy is a risk.

I’m about to have a kid, and it’s hard to contain that kind of excitement. Still, in the day-to-day, I find all sorts of reasons to try and keep it under wraps.

I’m afraid of losing sight of other people’s pain because of being so caught up in my own joy. After all, 2020 has held heartbreak for so many, so I don’t want Jessi’s and my excitement to be salt in someone else’s wound.

I’m afraid of something going wrong— that my excitement is somehow premature. Author Brené Brown describes this attitude as “foreboding joy,” the feeling that we shouldn’t allow ourselves to get too comfortable in our joy since something disastrous might be lurking just around the corner. It’s a Murphy’s Law approach to life.

And if I’m being really honest about my reasons for stifling my own joy, I’m afraid my joy is just annoying. “We get it. You’re having a kid. Lots of people have had kids. It’s fine. Stop posting about it.”

This resistance to joy makes me wonder: with cynicism and pessimism abounding in our current cultural moment, what would it look like to allow ourselves moments of pure, unadulterated joy? Joy which can overcome fear and shame and cynicism?

In Luke 1, during Mary’s visit to Elizabeth, the young mother-to-be is so overjoyed that she begins to sing. My soul glorifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. My wife and I are excited, but neither of us has burst out into a spontaneous hymn so far. I love that we get to see Mary in this moment. Is she worried about the kind of life Jesus will have? Is she stressed over the responsibilities of mothering Immanuel, God with us? Does she realize he will be a homeless preacher and miracle worker who will die an insurrectionist’s death after a rigged trial? Maybe, but even this doesn’t impede her joy in this moment, and the way she shows it should inspire us to do the same.

There are all sorts of reasons to avoid joy. Indeed, avoiding joy may feel safer and more socially acceptable. But Advent, especially this third Sunday of Advent, invites us to acknowledge and share in the deepest and most authentic joy the world has ever known: the birth of Christ, which foretells a rebirth of all creation, a sign of God’s endless love for all of us.