Come Home with Shouts of Joy

The following is a sermon preached on December 17, 2023 at Stewart Memorial United Methodist Church. It is an honor to be a part of this congregation, and I’m so grateful that they took the chance of lending me their pulpit for the day!

The texts referenced are Psalm 126 and 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24.

The year is 51 AD. You and your family live in the thriving city of Thessalonica, overlooking the Aegean Sea. You are part of a fledgling Christian community, one that is faithful and loving. In fact, your church was founded by St. Paul himself, along with Timothy and Silas. But Paul hasn’t come back to visit, like you hoped he would. Jesus hasn’t come back either. 

When Paul told you to be on the lookout for Christ’s return, you took him seriously. When Paul told you that you and your loved ones would all be united with Christ, with God, you believed him. He spoke with such urgency that you thought these glorious events were just about to unfold. But here you are, still in Thessalonica. You’ve never left this city, but now you find yourself tired, and wanting to go home.

This was the situation of the Thessalonians when Paul wrote the letter we heard from today. First Thessalonians is almost certainly the oldest text in the New Testament. This letter is from a time when many Christians assumed that Jesus would return in their lifetime.

These Thessalonians, these word-of-mouth, world-on-fire Christians, had suffered losses of late. Some among them had died. As we said, the community likely hadn’t expected any of the faithful to die a worldly death. They expected Jesus to come pick them up and take them home well before such a painful thing could occur. Now, they are terribly afraid that their departed friends and family members would miss out on salvation when Christ finally did come back. They thought their loved ones might be lost forever. The Thessalonians were grieving without hope.

This is the situation Paul is speaking into here. This is the situation in which he is calling them to rejoice.

Now, Paul isn’t cruel. He isn’t telling people who are drowning in grief and confusion to just be happy. We all know it isn’t that easy. We don’t simply become happy in the midst of pain. A very wise family friend of mine likes to say, “Happiness depends on happenings. Happiness depends on happenings.” Happiness is based on what’s going on in your life, or in a particular moment. You can’t just tap into happiness when times are tough. You can, however, tap into joy. “Rejoice always,” Paul says. And how? “Pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.”

In the previous chapter, Paul assured the Thessalonians that those who have died won’t be left behind. He reassured them that their loved ones will in fact join them in union with Christ at the last day, hallelujah. Now, at the end of his letter, he’s reassuring them that Christ will come again and they will be saved– “The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do this,” Paul says. You can’t trust the things of this world, but God’s faithfulness? That you can hang your hat on. The God of peace has promised to make you whole, make you holy, and bring you home.

So Paul is reminding the Thessalonians that the event they long for, their homecoming, the resurrection of all people, may be taking longer than they thought, but it is inevitable. So how should they act in the meantime? They are to rejoice in prayer. Rejoice in gratitude. Rejoice in what the Spirit is saying to God’s people. Reject what is evil, hang on to what is good, and believe that soon enough, they will come home with shouts of joy.

The story of Psalm 126 is similar. Israel was blessed by the Lord; they were shown salvation. They were given uncontainable joy. Now, they are grieving. Now, they are planting their seeds with tears. But they pray fervently for God to restore them, and they know that “the one who calls them is faithful, and he will do this.” They know that at the harvest, they will come home with shouts of joy.

You see, joy is always accessible to us, because God is always accessible to us. Whatever is happening in our lives, we as Christians always have the knowledge that the Lord our God has made this world and everything in it, and called it good. We as Christians always have the comfort of scripture; we have the words that were spoken to the Israelites of old, and the words that were spoken to us, the church, by Christ himself. We always have the image of God reflected in each other and ourselves. We have an opportunity every day to look at the manger, the cross, and the empty tomb and know that God so loved this broken, splintered world that he gave his only Son, so that we may not perish but may have eternal life.

But it’s so easy to forget about joy. It’s hard for us–especially as grownups. Perhaps this is part of why Jesus says that the Kingdom belongs to the little ones–they understand joy. Think of how a child squeals in delight upon opening that perfect Christmas present–nearly loud enough to burst your eardrums. Isn’t this how we should respond when we receive the gifts of the Spirit? Think of the child who leaps out of the school bus the moment it stops and runs, beaming, straight into his mother’s arms. Isn’t this how we should greet our Lord at the last day? 

This, this is what God is calling us to, during Advent and in every circumstance. God calls us to come home, and not with the feeble smile of earthly happiness, but with shouts of joy. God is so good that it doesn’t matter how roughed up we are. God will make us whole. The one who has called us is faithful and he will do this.

Christmas is a tough time for so many, especially if you’re grieving, like the Thessalonians were. Especially if you’re far from home, like Mary was when she gave birth to our Savior. There may be more than a few among us singing “Joy to the World” with tears in their eyes. We know that Jesus has come to us, but sometimes it is painfully clear that he hasn’t yet come again in final glory to take us home.

So what does joy look like in this anticipatory moment when our circumstances are so unpredictable? So how do we act in this in-between time? Where do we go with our sorrow? 

We come home to God time after time after time as we await that final homecoming. Like the psalmist, we declare, while weeping, that God will restore us to laughter and song. We hold fast to what is good: the fruits of the Spirit, the words of the prophets, the way that Christ meets us in prayer. We sprint into God’s open arms every chance we get. And when we are so turned around, so swallowed up in confusion that we can’t even see those opportunities, we grasp the hand of the person next to us, because we know what great things Christ can do with human flesh.

My friends, let us eagerly seek the God who waits for us in all circumstances, for indeed the one who calls us is faithful. That very one has promised that we will come home at the harvest with shouts of joy. Amen.