Advent Through the Lens of Grief: Week Three — Joy

We are three weeks into the Advent journey. We have examined hope and peace. Now we turn our attention to joy. As we reflect on Advent joy in grief, it can feel out of place in the landscape of loss.

Joy sounds like happiness—and living without someone we love rarely feels happy. Perhaps they are happy. For those who trust in Jesus, our loved ones are experiencing the fullness of joy in God’s presence. But for those of us left behind, the prevailing emotion is sadness. We miss their presence. We feel the ache of absence.

Hope reminds us that God has not abandoned us. Peace assures us we are held. Joy invites us to trust that God is still doing something good—even now.

So if joy isn’t happiness, what is it?

John Piper offers this definition:

“Christian joy is a good feeling in the soul, produced by the Holy Spirit, as he causes us to see the beauty of Christ in the word and in the world.” 

Christian joy is not emotional ease or circumstantial happiness. It is produced by the Holy Spirit as He opens our eyes to the beauty of Christ—through Scripture and through the world around us. This kind of joy does not depend on the absence of suffering; in fact, it often exists alongside sorrow. This understanding of Advent joy in grief allows us to hold sorrow and faith together without pretending either one doesn’t exist.

Because Christian joy is grounded in who Christ is, rather than in how we feel, it is resilient. It is sustained by truth, not threatened by grief.

A Quiet Joy: Advent Joy in Grief

Jesus coming as a baby in a manger is a source of joy for all of humanity. But when we slow down and consider the context of His arrival, that joy becomes even more profound.

• For nearly four hundred years, Israel had heard no new prophetic word since Malachi. Yet the silence did not mean abandonment. God’s final word through Malachi called His people to remember—to hold fast to the Law of Moses, to live faithfully within the covenant, and to teach the next generation what God had already spoken. Without new revelation, Jewish life became anchored in Scripture, prayer, worship, and obedience. The silence was not inactivity; it was watchful waiting—shaped by repentance, expectancy, and hope.
• By the time Jesus was born, Israel lived under Roman occupation—marked by political oppression, heavy taxation, and the constant presence of foreign power. King Herod ruled Judea under Roman authority, exercising local power with Rome’s approval; ambitious in strategy, ruthless in practice, and maintaining control through fear and violence. Ordinary families lived with economic strain, social instability, and the lingering memory of exile, holding tightly to their identity through Scripture, synagogue life, and Sabbath faithfulness.
• Jewish girls grew up knowing that the Messiah would come through birth—through the body of a woman. From the earliest pages of Scripture, God promised deliverance through the seed of the woman (Genesis 3:15), and later, a king from the line of David (2 Samuel 7:12–16).

It is through this lens that the angel appeared to Mary. It is through this lens that she went to her cousin Elizabeth and shared the news. And it is through this lens that Mary rejoiced, proclaiming:

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.” (Luke 1:46–48)

God entered a world already marked by longing, loss, and unfulfilled hope—not with spectacle or conquest, but quietly, vulnerably, through birth.

That is Advent joy.

Joy That Doesn’t Require Pretending in Grief

This is what Advent joy in grief looks like—not happiness, but trust that God is still at work. Joy in Advent isn’t loud or forced. It is the quiet confidence that God is still doing something good, even in the midst of grief.

That realization is a relief.

If joy required me to feel happy while grieving, I would never get there. But if joy means trusting that God is still at work—still faithful, still good—then joy becomes possible.

Song of Joy: “Where You Are (Son of God)” by Craig Aven

One source of joy for me has been this song.I first heard it about six weeks after my son, Bryan, died. I listened to it over and over. Slowly, gently, it gave me a glimpse of joy—not because my grief disappeared, but because my imagination was lifted. I could picture Bryan singing with the angels around God’s throne.

There is joy in knowing he is with the Son of God.
Joy in knowing he is experiencing unimaginable peace.
Joy in knowing that—not only at Christmas, but always—he is with the One we celebrate: Jesus.

Excerpt

Got your picture in the frame
And a stocking with your name
Oh God knows it’s been hard letting go
And I can’t bring you back
But I’ll see you again
And oh that thought is healing to my soul
And I’ll miss making Angels with you in the snow.
I guess instead you will be singing with them all around the throne.

‘Cus You’re with the Son of God
You’re with the Prince of Peace
You’re with the One we’re celebrating
And that thought amazes me.
Sometimes I still break down
grieving that we’re apart,
But the sweatest gift is knowing where your are.
You’re with the Son of God.

Reflection Questions

1. What brings you joy at Christmas?
2. What song brings joy in the midst of grief?
3. Where have you seen quiet evidence that God is still doing something good, even in your grief?