Choose Joy

Over the past week, I started a Bible study called “Dwell On These Things”, by Vera Schmitz and Natalie Abbott, which focuses on memorizing a section of Philippians, Chapter 4. The verse we were working on last week was Philippians 4:4:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice.”

Lovely verse.

Great reminder.

Beautiful sentiment.

The week started out great with a lot of joyful time with my grandkids, but as the week unfolded, so did a wave of discouragement, crashing into every area of my life. Physically. Emotionally. Financially. Spiritually. One hit after another.

Bad test results. Big decisions. Sleepless nights. Extra bills. Frustration with people. And let’s not forget the physical ailments that were dragging me down like a weighted blanket.

Joy? Yeah, I didn’t feel an ounce of it.

What I did feel?

Frustration.

Sadness.

Anxiety.

Weariness.

I was overflowing with almost everything except joy.

So where was this “rejoicing always” supposed to come from?

Always? Really?

As in every time, on every occasion, forever, consistently, without exception?

Apparently yes. That is the definition of always.

It didn’t say “Rejoice unless you have a sinus infection.”

Or “Rejoice until you are facing a scary health report.”

Or “Rejoice unless the bills pile up, your body gives out, and someone ticks you off while you’re running on two hours of sleep and zero patience.”

Nope. Not even a footnote that says, “Joy optional when blueberries spill all over your floor and your wheelchair crushes them into a juicy crime scene.”

(Yes, the blueberry massacre was real. I kept trying to clean them up, but every roll of my wheels just spread the carnage. It was less “kitchen cleanup” and more “CSI: Smurf Edition.” It actually looked like I wheeled over a family of Smurfs with the different shades of blueberry guts all over my kitchen floor.)

I mean, come on, Paul! Couldn’t you have thrown us one exception?

Didn’t he understand how utterly frustrating, disappointing, and exhausting life can be?

But… wait… hold on. He did.

Because Paul wrote this verse while being chained up in prison.

No beach views. No luxury mattress. Just iron bars and cold stone.

And still, he said, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” And for extra emphasis, he repeated it, “I will say it again: rejoice.”

That has to mean it is important to say it twice!

Okay, fine. He may not have rolled over blueberries, but he knew suffering. Real suffering. And somehow, even in that mess, he found joy.

And I think it was not because of his circumstances, but because of his Savior.

Maybe that’s what “rejoice in the Lord” actually means.

Not rejoicing in the moment.

Not in the mess.

But rejoicing in the One who is steady through it all.

Even when life feels like a never-ending loop of test results, bills, sinus infections, and blueberry disasters – He has not changed. And maybe that’s reason enough to rejoice.

Always.

So yes, I’m still dropping things, still tired, still slightly salty about the blueberries (they are $$$), and if one more unexpected bill shows up, I might put it back in the mailbox with a note saying “Current Resident: Emotionally Unavailable.” But I’m learning that joy isn’t the same as pretending everything’s fine. It’s choosing to trust God’s goodness even when life feels like a long-running drama with plot twists I didn’t approve. I’m choosing to rejoice, not because my days are smooth, but because my Savior is unwavering. Even if joy comes through tear-streaked cheeks, I pray to choose it, daily and always, not because of what He gives, but because of who He is. The cross was enough. His forgiveness is enough. His love is enough. He is always worthy of praise.

{No Smurfs were harmed in the writing of this blog.}