Rejoice in the Lord – Eliana Maxim
“Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I say rejoice… For the Lord is near.” Philippians 4:4-5
It’s that time of the year when the world suddenly seems shinier, brighter more colorful. Music plays from every corner, gold ribbon and red bows adorn everything from the front grill of semi trucks to the dry cleaners’ windows and the fragrant smell of pine mixes headily with those of gingerbread baking and turkeys roasting.
It’s a cacophony of sensory overload demanding one thing from us – be happy!
We’ve created a culture that has determined joy to be a destination or goal to achieve, much like the brass ring on a merry go round. We’ve confused joy, which is life giving, with happiness – a temporary emotion based on a particular circumstance. Yet our demand is for a place of long lasting seemingly elusive joy.
“I’ll be so happy when I…fall in love, lose 10 pounds, get a job…”
We’ve fashioned joy into a commodity that is to be sought, a destination at which to arrive. Paul reminds us in his letter to the Philippians that our reason for rejoicing exists already. We have already arrived!
“Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I say rejoice!” And his explanation? “The Lord is near.”
Desolation in both the Old and New Testaments come from humanity’s separation from God. Psalm 13 laments, “ How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” The inverse of is this – true joy is knowing God is here. Emmanuel. God with us. “I bring you tidings of great joy!”
For the past 18 years, I’ve had the privilege to travel to Tijuana, Mexico each spring with a group of over 100 high school students and adults. We go to build houses for homeless families living along the US-Mexico border in some of the most impoverished areas in the world.
Over time we have come to not just build homes, but also build relationships. And among those is the friendship I have developed with a man named Luis. He considers himself the unofficial mayor of his neighborhood; an area outside of the city where the terrain is so rough, the government refuses to service it. There is no running water or electricity. Families live under whatever shelter they can fashion from items they’ve rescued from the local dump.
Luis is a recovering alcoholic, sober now almost 12 years. He and his wife live in one of the homes we built, and each day they wonder if they will eat. Although he apprenticed to be a bricklayer, there is no regular work and he spends his days traveling throughout the rugged countryside to check in on “his” residents.
It’s rare to encounter a silent Luis. He is normally whistling or singing. There’s always someone he wants to introduce to you, someone he wants to advocate for. He has ensured that at least half the residents of his “colonia” get simple wooden homes built, many times rolling up his sleeves and working alongside the visiting teams. Once he accomplished that mission, he set about convincing us to build his community a church.
Luis is a man filled with joy.
Walking alongside the colonia’s ridge one day with cold ocean breezes buffeting us and the smell of burning trash filling the air, I could not help but ask him, “What makes you such a joyful man, Luis?” His answer, though simple, has stuck with me since then.
Two things, he said.
He spread out his arms as far as he could, “Dios es más grande.” God is bigger. Far far bigger. Bigger than the addiction he wrestles with each day. Bigger than the uncertainty of how his family will eat. Bigger than all the eye can see and his heart can feel.
Secondly he said, “Dios está aquí.” God is here. And he motioned once again to the landscape. A harsh environment dotted with makeshift homes made of cardboard or tarps. Children playing among the scraggly shrubs, who can’t afford to go to school or wear warm clothing, who share living space with a random chicken or maybe even an other entire family.
Luis smiled at it all.
From his prison cell, Paul rejoices and reminds us that we too have the blessed assurance of God with us, Emmanuel. And that should be the starting place for our perception of life. Joy cannot be dependent on circumstances. Those will vary constantly. We can have much one day, and lose it all the next. What seems to be a perfect relationship suddenly becomes empty and lifeless. A career on the rise can stall or even end.
Life’s circumstances constantly change. God’s presence in our lives through Jesus Christ will not.
Paul invites his readers to set aside their anxieties, their worries and go to God in prayer with thanksgiving. My friend Luis’ greatest desire for a community church was rooted in his desire to be able to sing and pray to a God who provides for him and his family. He insisted on the simple wooden church being built because his neighbors, living under tarps and in boxes, needed a place to worship God. “We need a place to glorify God for all the good God has done in our lives.”
As I enter the Advent Season and am bombarded by the world’s call to be joyful wearing this perfume or that pair of shoes, I choose to remember Luis. I choose to listen to Paul’s words – Rejoice! And rejoice again! The Lord is near!
I will deck the halls and make merry. Yet, my joy will not, can not, be dependent on life’s circumstances or the date on the calendar – even the liturgical one – but rather centered on the promise that God is with us, that God is near and that Jesus proclaimed, “I will be with you until the end of days.”
The Rev. Eliana Maxim was born in Barranquilla, Colombia. She is a second-career pastor and currently serves as associate presbyter in the Presbytery of Seattle. Her primary area of ministry focus is immigrant faith communities, new church expressions and mission partnerships.