“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.”
–Philippians 4:4
Have you ever stared at these words from Paul to the Philippian church, feeling the cruel pangs of sorrow, and thought, “How?” Was Paul being unsympathetic or unfeeling when he tells believers to rejoice always? Does he not know the darkness of chronic physical or mental illness, the bitter disappointment of dashed hopes, or the chasm of grief that follows the death of a loved one? How could Paul possibly tell us to rejoice always?
It could be that you, like I, have misunderstood what Paul means to convey to the saints when he says to “rejoice.” Of course Paul doesn’t mean we should be happy when someone dies, or falls ill, or walks away from the faith—in fact, in Philippians 3:18, he tells the church “through tears” that some of his brothers have become enemies of the cross. “Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things” (Phil. 3:19). But, he tells them in verse 20, “our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.”
This is the foundation of Paul’s joy—this promise. And he writes to his fellow brothers and sisters with this encouragement from prison. Paul is a man who has been whipped, beaten, stoned, shipwrecked, imprisoned, and abandoned (2 Cor. 11:23–29). But he also knows that one day, “in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet,” the dead shall be raised imperishable, clothed with immortality, and given victory over death through Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 15:52–57).
If this is the foundation of Paul’s joy, and yet Paul is also someone who grieves the sin and suffering in this world, what does he mean when he tells us to rejoice? Joy for the Christian does not always need to manifest itself in happiness. Often, instead, it looks like trust, hope, and praise.
Trust
“Why?” is a common question asked in places of grief. It is also asked quite frequently in the Bible. God’s people often cry out to the Lord—how long will you allow suffering, why do our adversaries prosper, and what are your purposes in these strange and painful providences? God welcomes these inquiries; he wants us to come to him with our questions. In fact, King David, the man after God’s own heart, is often a model of approaching the mercy seat of God in this manner. David is the author of at least 73 psalms. In them, he pours out his heart to the Lord—enemies pursue him, his heart fails him, his body is beaten, his friends are gone, his sin overwhelms him, there is tumult in his heart (Ps 22, 38, 143). And then, he leans back into the arms of the Lord.
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life.
—Psalm 143:8
God allows us to come with our questions, but he doesn’t always answer the way we hope. Instead, he invites us to place our trust in him. Paul entreats us to consider the “depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!” (Rom. 11:33). His judgment is unsearchable, his mind unknowable, and yet he has shown us that he is good (Ps. 103:8), that he loves us so much he sent his Son to die on our behalf (John 3:16), and that he works all things for the good of those who love him—including our suffering (Rom. 8:18–30). In those moments of suffering, joy looks like trusting God’s purposes when they don’t make sense to us.
Hope
“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” These are what Paul describes in Romans 12:12 as the marks of a Christian. Among them he includes abstaining from vengeance but waiting on the Lord, blessing those who persecute you, zealous service for others, and overcoming evil with good. Paul is able to exhort believers to live in this way that is so contrary both to the world and to the instincts of our flesh because of the promise we cling to: that we have been justified by faith and have peace with God through Jesus Christ (Rom. 5:1).
Our joy is not rooted in the goodness of this world. It does not depend on the things we can hold on to in this life and it can’t be shaken when time and change rip them from our hands. Rather, Paul says, “We rejoice in hope of the glory of God” (Rom. 5:2). In fact, Paul writes that we even “rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom. 5:3–5, emphasis added).
There is a mystery in the joy of Christian suffering. Even the deepest heartaches draw us to the Lord. In the caverns of grief, we feel the presence of God. And this great God of ours sustains us. He builds in us endurance and character, and from that blossoms a steadfast hope that cannot be moved—a hope for resurrection, for restoration, for evil to be conquered. And this hope does not put us to shame. It will be consummated on the last day when the dead shall be raised and Christ himself shall wipe away our sorrows with his own tender hands.
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
—Rev. 21:4
Praise
Because of this hope, the grieving Christian can rejoice in suffering in another way: through praise. Truly, we can praise the Lord through tears. Paul calls the saints to “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15). There will be suffering in this life and the Christian does well to kneel into the low places with those who are beaten down by weariness, loss, and pain. By the same means that we can take real pleasure in the joys of others, we can sit with those who mourn and feel their grief with them, knowing that these things are all temporary. Both the good and the bad cannot overcome us. They are part of a world that is passing away (1 Cor. 7:29–31). These are light and momentary afflictions in the span of eternity to which we are heirs. The prophet Habakkuk wrote words of trust, hope, and praise in such a time:
Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the deer’s;
he makes me tread on my high places.
—Hab. 3:17–19
As our bodies, hearts, and minds are ravaged by the curse of this world, weighed down by grief, broken by loss, and finally swept up in death, we are able to rejoice. Ours is a peace that passes understanding (Phil. 4:7).
We rejoice through our moments of anguish, knowing that God will one day restore all things. We trust his word to us, and the promise of life through his son. We hope in this future reality of resurrection glory and eternal rest. And we praise the God of all comfort for calling us to be his own, for securing our adoption as his children, and for holding us amid our trials (Isa. 41:13).
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.
—Ps. 23:6
What Does the Bible Say?
- Praise from low places: Deut. 31:8; Ps. 23:6, 34:18, 73:26, 143:8; Jer. 31:13; Hab. 3:17–19; Matt. 5:4; 2 Thess. 2:16–17; Rev. 21:4
- Hope and Joy: Isa. 40:31, 41:13; Rom. 5:5, 12:12, 15:13; 1 Cor. 15:52–57; Phil. 1:6, 4:4; Col. 1:27; 1 Pet. 5:10
Recommended Resources
- The Valley of Vision, by Arthur G. Bennett
- The Emotional Life of Our Lord, by B.B. Warfield
