“Britain has a joy shortage.” So says the Christmas advert for one of the big supermarkets. True enough. It’s hard to argue given the cost of living crisis, the climate change crisis, war in Ukraine, and now that feared word recession has made a comeback in the top ten joy-diminishing media buzz words.
One of the odd things about the Psalms is the way the same prayer can talk about how hard life is, and then go on to say things like, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30.5)
Now nobody is helped by unrealistic promises that the difficulties we face aren’t important and don’t matter. Tears are real, worry is sickening, and yes, there’s a joy shortage. For folk struggling to heat their homes, care for their children, and work out how to get through the winter, false cheerfulness doesn’t help much.
Unless. Supposing we thought up and put into action ways we can practice joy-making for our neighbours, our work mates, those we know who are struggling. Maybe there’s a joy shortage because we’ve forgotten how to make joy happen as a gift to others.
How about donations to the foodbank, a knock on the neighbour’s door, the text that eases loneliness, thank you to the bus driver, the nurse, the shop assistant, the teacher, the bin men and women – why not make your own list?
Instead of bemoaning a joy shortage, and so adding to the joy deficit, we can become entrepreneurs, manufacturers in the joy industry. Then we may well find this is true: “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” (Nehemiah 8,10)
(Originally written for the Aberdeen Press and Journal as the Saturday Sermon, Nov 2022: Photo taken late November 2019, at Mains of Drum Garden Centre.)
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