Choosing Joy: The Gift That Can't Be Taken Away

There's something magical about Christmas morning. The anticipation, the excitement, that moment when a child's eyes light up as they discover the gift they've been dreaming about all year. Maybe it was a trampoline set up in the yard, covered in morning frost. Maybe it was something else entirely. But we all know that look—that sudden, overwhelming joy.

Yet how quickly that joy can fade. Ten minutes later, the child might be playing with the cardboard box instead of the gift itself. It's almost comical, except it reveals something profound about human nature: we're constantly chasing the next thing, believing this will finally fill us up and make us complete.

The Christmas story gives us a fascinating glimpse into this very struggle. Picture the shepherds—outcasts in their society, relegated to the fields because they were no longer welcomed in town. These were second-class citizens, forgotten and marginalized.

Then one night, everything changed. Angels appeared in the sky, announcing the birth of the Messiah. The glory of God illuminated the darkness. A heavenly chorus sang praises. These shepherds received a personal invitation from heaven itself to witness the most significant moment in human history.

They rushed to Bethlehem. They found Mary, Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger, exactly as the angels had described. They saw the Messiah with their own eyes. They experienced wonder beyond imagination.

And then? They went back to tending sheep.

Luke 2 tells us they returned to their flocks, glorifying and praising God. But they returned. They went back to work, back to their ordinary lives. Imagine if one of those shepherds had made a different choice—if he'd decided to follow this newborn King, to be present for the Sermon on the Mount, to witness the healing of the paralytic, to see Lazarus raised from the dead. Wouldn't that have been the logical response to such a divine encounter?

Yet before we judge those shepherds too harshly, we must ask ourselves: Are we really any different?

Christian concerts draw massive crowds. The largest Christian music festival in America attracts 300,000 people annually. Winter Jam tours reach nearly 300,000 people each year. Billy Graham's crusades touched 2.2 billion people and saw 3.2 million personal faith decisions over his ministry.

These are staggering numbers. The Spirit moves powerfully in these gatherings. People lift their hands, tears stream down faces, lives are transformed. We feel the fire burning in our hearts.

But then Monday comes.

Despite all these powerful encounters with God, only 20% of Americans attend church weekly. Fifty-seven percent seldom or never attend religious services. How do we get from the mountain-top experience to the valley of spiritual apathy?

The answer is uncomfortable: We let the world reclaim our priorities. We get distracted. Like children at Christmas, we tear open the greatest gift imaginable, experience momentary excitement, and then turn our attention to something else entirely.

Here's a truth that can transform your life: Money can buy happiness, but it can't buy joy.

Happiness is an emotion—fleeting, dependent on circumstances, tied to the temporary things of this world. That new phone will still drop calls. That gaming system will be obsolete before you know it. That bigger house just means more to clean and maintain. Earthly happiness evaporates like morning dew.

Joy is something entirely different. Joy isn't an emotion; it's a choice. It's not something you feel; it's something you decide.

You can be happy, sad, angry, or depressed—these are emotions that wash over you. But you can't "be" joy. You choose it. You claim it. You hold onto it regardless of your circumstances.

If anyone had an excuse to skip joy, it was the Apostle Paul. His resume of suffering reads like a horror story: beaten with rods three times, flogged repeatedly, shipwrecked three times, stoned, imprisoned, hungry, cold, constantly in danger. He spent approximately five and a half years in prison across multiple incarcerations.

And what did Paul do while imprisoned? He wrote letters overflowing with joy. In Colossians, he declared, "Now I rejoice in my suffering for your sake." While chained in a dungeon with Silas, he sang hymns and praised God.

Paul understood something we often forget: Joy comes from God, and nothing—not circumstances, not suffering, not even the devil himself—can take it away. As Psalm 43:4 declares, God Himself is "my joy and my delight."

Consider someone who works with kindergarteners through second-graders every morning. Some days they wake up with a headache, or an aching back from sleeping wrong, or exhaustion from being up multiple times in the night. Some mornings, they simply don't feel it.

But would it be fair to bring that grumpiness to innocent children who don't deserve it? Of course not. So between home and school, a choice must be made—the choice to smile, to give high-fives in the hallway, to bring light instead of darkness.

That's what choosing joy looks like. It's not denying reality or pretending everything is perfect. It's deciding that regardless of how you feel, you will draw from the deep well of God's presence and let His joy sustain you.

Psalm 94 reminds us that when anxiety is great within us, God's consolation brings us joy. When our foot is slipping, His unfailing love supports us.

As we navigate this Christmas season with its crowds, traffic, chaos, and commercialism, we face a choice. Will we focus on the temporary trappings of the holiday, or will we cling to the eternal joy found in Christ's birth?

The ultimate gift wasn't wrapped in paper. It was wrapped in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger. That gift wasn't just a baby—it was a bundle package containing salvation, hope, love, redemption, and yes, unshakeable joy.

This joy isn't dependent on perfect circumstances or ideal family gatherings. It doesn't require the right gifts under the tree or snow-free roads. It comes from knowing that God loved us enough to enter our broken world, to dwell among us, to offer us eternal life.

As Psalm 5:11 beautifully expresses: "Let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you."

Joy to the world—the Lord has come. Not just 2,000 years ago, but into your life today, offering you a gift that can never be taken away.

Will you choose to receive it?