‘Despite everything – Joy’

Sermon for 3 Advent, 2023
St Peter’s Lutheran Church, Port Macquarie, NSW
John 16:16-24 

 It is easy, or at least is should be, to be happy when all is going well. But true happiness, and indeed true joy, is not dependent on everything going well. It is not dependent upon having our dream home, driving our dream car, doing well at school or work, having lots of friends. If we seek joy through these things, good though they be, they will eventually and inevitably fail us. Genuine joy, the kind of joy that lasts, is instead to be sought and found in the midst of hardship, struggle, difficult times, pain and grief.  All three of our readings today talk about joy. But each one talks about joy in the midst or aftermath of pain and hardship. Did you catch that?

In our first reading from Isaiah 65, we read that when God creates the wonderful new heavens and new earth, ‘the former things will not be remembered or come to mind,’ but that instead, we ‘will rejoice forever in what God is creating.’ This means that the joy of God’s new creation will overwhelm all memories and thoughts of pain and suffering.  The Joy of God’s new creation arises out of the context of human suffering. It does not deny or ignore it. It simply overwhelms human pain with the joy of God’s work.

Similarly, in the epistle reading for this Sunday, from 1 Peter 1, we read that we rejoice, or find joy, in the new life we have in Christ ‘even if now for a little while we have had to suffer various trials.’  The ‘indescribable and glorious joy’ that Peter writes about are not the result of a charmed life, of living in a good neighbourhood with and having many friends – as nice as these things might be. But the joy he describes comes also and especially those who have suffered.

In the Gospel reading for today the link between the joy we have in Christ and the reality of the pain and suffering of this life is even more profoundly underscored in the comparison Jesus makes with a mother giving birth.

But before we get to this illustration that Jesus used to describe the joy we have in him, we need to first look at the strange riddle he put to his disciples. Jesus, in today text, is still sitting around the table of the last supper with his disciples. He is telling them things they need to know. In in the midst of these talks Jesus says to them ‘After a little while, you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me.’ (v. 16).

In essence, Jesus tells his disciples that they will soon not see him, and then they will see him again. And the disciples note that this is because Jesus is going to the Father (vv 16-17). Of course, the disciples are completely baffled by this. The words are a genuine riddle for them. So the discuss its meaning among themselves and Jesus asks them why they are discussing what he meant – as if his words should be obvious. But the meaning of this saying was not obvious to the disciples. Even today, Bible scholars debate the meaning of this saying. Is Jesus referring to the fact that he will soon die, and they will not see him, but then in a little while he will be raised from the dead, and they will see him again? This certainly makes sense. But in what way does Jesus go to the Father in his death?

So perhaps Jesus was referring to his ascension to the Father, after which the disciples would not physically see him. But he would come back and they would see him again. This would also make sense, even though the ‘little while’ in which he was gone would certainly be from God’s perspective and not ours as it has now been just over two thousand years and counting! Some would argue that Jesus had both of these things in mind. Others that he was referring to something else entirely. So, when Jesus asks his disciples if they were discussing what he meant by ‘a little while and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me’ we would expect him to clarify what he meant.

But that is not what Jesus does. Jesus talks instead about the pain his followers will feel while he is away from them. And he comforts them by assuring them that this ‘pain will turn into joy.’

Now his disciples would have immediately recognised that pain and joy are opposites. They go together like war and peace, famine and feast, hatred and love. So now they have two riddles. Not only are they still confused about not seeing Jesus in a little while, and then in a little while and they will see him again, but now they must surely also be wondering, how can joy come from pain?

But it was not Jesus’ intention to confuse either his disciples or us. His words are not riddles to solve, but words of comfort, hope and joy. The disciples were indeed wondering just what Jesus meant by a little while and they would not see him, and in a little while further, they would see him. But Jesus is concerned not with explaining the meaning of these words, but with preparing them, and us, for the time in which he is not with us. For the time in which the world will rejoice and we well be tested and experience pain. Jesus is concerned that his disciples are able to cope with the first ‘little while’ of his absence, until the abiding joy of his return. And to do this, he uses the example of a mother giving birth. In this way he explains to them how it is possible for joy to come from pain.

Jesus says: ‘When a woman is in labour, she has pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world.’ (v. 21).

Now, I want to say right up front that I have never given birth. I cannot speak from direct personal experience. But being a father in the current generation, in which fathers were not made to wait outside the birthing room for news, I was with my wife through the birth of four children. Each birth was different and each was memorable. But in all of them, my wife experienced great pain.

The first time around her labour lasted just over twenty hours. I did all I could to help with encouraging words like ‘hang in there’, ‘it won’t be long, now,’ ‘millions of women do this every year, you can do it too,’ and best of all, ‘Surely its not that bad.’ And of course, I said these words of comfort while gently holding her hand.

Oddly, these words of encouragement were not received in the spirit in which they were intended. In fact, it became increasingly clear to me that my wife was angry with me, as if I were somehow to blame for her pain! She didn’t want me to hold her hand. Then she did. She wanted me to massage her back, but was angry at me for not getting the right spot. (I never did find the right spot). I suggested, as my presence was obviously not as soothing as I had hoped, that perhaps I leave her in peace for an hour so while I went to get a cuppa. Well, she could have simply said. ‘No thank you, dear. I would prefer if you stayed.’ Now this might be hard for those of you who know my wife to wife to believe, but what she actually said through the gritted teeth of yet another painful contraction, was: ‘’Don’t you dare leave. You’re gonna stay here and suffer with me until this is over!’

Things went downhill from there. By the time we passed eighteen hours of labour I was pretty certain that my relationship with my wife was beyond repair. And then the baby finally came. Just under 10 pounds. That explained a lot. It was a little boy, all pink and wrinkled and odd looking, like all new babies are. And they placed him on top of my wife, now exhausted, to hold. She took one look at him, smiled, and said, ‘Isn’t this wonderful. It’s the most wonderful moment of my life.’

Well, I was perplexed. This was quite a sudden change in mood. Cautiously I took her hand. Something I had not been allowed to do for the past couple of hours. ‘Are you still angry with me?’ I asked.

‘Angry?’ ‘Why would I be angry?’

Later, it became clear that she did not remember half of things she had said to me in during labour. The worst pain, pain that pushed her to the limits of her endurance, was suddenly not just gone, but now largely forgotten. And in its place was simply joy, the joy at bringing new life into the world.

So when Jesus uses this example with his disciples, they understand that even the greatest pain can be turned to joy. Mothers teach us that.

And that is exactly what God will bring of all the pain and struggle in this life. As Jesus gives birth to a new life in us, a new life of forgiveness and the promise of a life with God forever, our pain turns to joy. And it is a special kind of joy indeed. Jesus tells us that it is a joy that no one can take from us (v. 22) and that it will be a complete or perfect joy (v. 24).

Imagine that. Something that can never be taken away, that will never fade, never diminish. I had a special bike once that brought be much joy, then it was stolen. I had a car when I was young that I put a lot of work and money into. It brought me much joy and I was going to keep it forever. Then the rust set in. But the joy that we have in Jesus is in a whole new category. It is perfect joy and joy that lasts. It is a joy that no one can take away from us.

On this Sunday in which we focus on the Joy that the coming king brings us, we do not deny or supress the pain and struggle we all at times experience. Instead, we are reminded of Jesus’ words of comfort that our pain will be turned to joy, a joy that is perfect and which cannot be taken from us.  A joy that so transforms us that we will hardly remember the pain we have experienced. Because our joy, our true and perfect joy, is based upon the love that Jesus has for us, on his forgiveness, on the transformation he brings into our lives. In Jesus, and only in Jesus, do we find complete and lasting joy. Amen.

Pastor Mark Worthing.