Joy can have a range of effects on faith, and it’s my belief that a truly robust faith has room for this feeling. For an earlier post about joy, click here. To look at the intersection of joy and faith, read on…
“It’s comforting to be bitter about evil— not creative, but comforting. It’s also easy to blame everything on a tragedy. But in my experience most people give up on life not because of a tragedy, but because they no longer see joys worth celebrating; they do not see that human life, under any circumstances, never ceases to have meaning. Tragedy offers the opportunity to find new meaning and most of all to reevaluate what’s important.” —William Sloane Coffin
“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” —Romans 12:15
Look, I’m not a super cheerful person. In fact, I’m suspicious of overly-cheerful people. Snark and cynicism and critique are my happy places. I’d really rather read a book or talk to someone about their childhood traumas than go to a super upbeat party. As such, I feel a little weird writing about joy and happiness, but here we are. First things first, let’s talk about “cheap joy.”
When Dietrich Bonhoeffer popularized the term “cheap grace,” he was writing about the idea of forgiveness without repentance, discipleship, or real change. Cheap grace is attractive because it makes big promises and gives warm fuzzy feelings, but it also doesn’t demand anything of us. Bonhoeffer saw cheap grace as dangerous because it never truly helps anyone. I think this concept applies to the positively-charged feelings as well; before claiming joy or peace or power, we should investigate our inner thoughts and feelings to ensure we aren’t putting them on for the sake of appearances or for a quick emotional high. Cheap power, cheap peace, cheap joy— they can be appealing, but they’ll never be satisfying.
I’ve been to plenty of religious events that felt great— all the extravagance and delight that appear toward the outer edge of joy’s sector of the feeling wheel. There was always a communal sense of uplift (what sociologist Emile Durkheim called “effervescence”), but not long after leaving, I felt empty again. That little shot of happy didn’t satisfy and didn’t last. Worse still, I’ve worked and worshiped in plenty of spaces where appearing happy and upbeat was a social requirement, and it always ended badly for me. Such spaces tend to stifle vulnerability and growth, and they often wind up creating anxiety! After a while in such faux-happy spaces, I developed the mantra: “Happiness is a wonderful byproduct but a terrible end goal.”
If your goal in life is to be happy, you never will be —those goalposts move far too easily—, but look again at the feeling wheel. Just beyond joyful, we see aware, creative, playful, energetic, sexy, and excited. Trying to attain joy directly may leave you empty, but have you ever set aside time to be playful with your faith? What about intentional creative time? How about doing something physical with a faith group to get the energy up? (I’m still doing some thinking on what “sexy faith” looks like, but if you’ve got ideas, go for it!) Engaging that next tier of the feeling wheel is a great way to cultivate a consistent joyful faith.
Cheap joy is a sham. The opposite extreme (cynicism) may be fun and easy, but it’s not really rewarding. Building joyful practices into your spiritual life may take a little more work, but it’s worth it.
Leave room for joy in your faith