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Book Club
I'm going to start this message by asking for your forgiveness, because I'm going to ask you to bypass your religious reflexes just for a moment today.
I want you to forget the scowl of that mean Christian you encountered at some point in your childhood. Move to the side, for a moment, the disdain some people carry for the very idea of a happy Christian. Some people are tormented by the thought that we could be following Jesus and be happy about it — that we serve a God who is not merely to be endured, but a God who is meant to be enjoyed.
Set aside the notion that happiness is based on personality, circumstances, temperament, or emotional state. I want to investigate a wild idea: that you were created by the God of infinite joy. And if you were created by the God of infinite joy, can I dare tell you today that your happiness matters to God?
Remember MythBusters? They tested ideas that had been absorbed as truths to see if they'd really hold up. Let me do a little myth busting before we get into this conversation.
This is a modern-day misconception. The distinction between happiness and joy does not exist in Scripture. Words like joy, blessed, delight, and happy are used almost interchangeably. They dance around each other in the text. This split between joy and happiness is a fairly modern development in Christian circles.
Even John Piper has said that if you have nice little categories — joy is what Christians have and happiness is what the world has — you can scrap those when you go to the Bible, because the Bible is indiscriminate in its use of the language of happiness, joy, contentment, and satisfaction.
Myth busted.
Some teaching in religious circles creates a false dichotomy. You'll hear it preached: God doesn't care about your happiness, He only cares about your holiness. I understand the intent. What we're trying to emphasize is that God's character being formed in us is more important than our comfort — and to that I wholeheartedly agree.
But the character of Christ being formed in us produces something. It produces happiness. It produces joy — not just temporarily, but eternally.
Holiness produces joy.
We cannot divorce joy and happiness from God's own character. Scripture says that in His presence is the fullness of joy. How could God produce that which He does not possess? In the New Testament, we find that the Spirit of God in a person produces fruit — and the fruit is love, joy.
So I get joy when I'm in God's presence, and I produce joy when God's presence is in me. These ideas are inseparable. The process of sanctification and holiness in you does not kill happiness. It reroutes and deepens the reservoir from which it flows.
There's an indelible quality to last words. Weighty words that seal the end of a moment with great finality.
(By the way, Rose, you robbed us of Titanic 2 because you were selfish. There was room on the door. That's all I have to say about it.)
But what about famous first words — words that carry weight not because of their finality, but because of their primacy?
Did you know the last word of your Old Testament is the word curse? The story of God's people did not end on a high note. They could not keep up with the traditions, requirements, and regulations of God's law. All they were left with was a curse.
Then you fast-forward to the New Testament, to Matthew 5, where Jesus sits down with a crowd and delivers His inaugural message. And the very first word out of His mouth is blessed.
Do you think the people on the hillside caught it that day? This wasn't a coincidence. It was a reorientation of a heart posture, a belief system — spoken to people who had been burdened and beaten down by the law, by religion and politics used to oppress them. Their whole lives had been lived underneath a curse. And now this new feel-good preacher comes to town and says, I've got good news for you.
Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek.
He was pointing the hearts of the people back to the original intention of God. Because the first interaction God ever had with humanity was that He blessed them — told them to be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, and subdue it.
The word blessed in the original language was not heard the way we receive it today. When we hear blessed, we think, "Shoutout, 2016, hashtag blessed — car, house, promotion." No. These people heard the word happy.
Go look it up. Happy.
It forces us to ask the question: How important is your happiness to God, if it's the first thing He chooses to teach about in His first message ever?
The audience that day could not believe what they were hearing. The would-be disciples and the religious scholars all received this at the same time — and it was problematic. It sent shivers through their traditions and rivets through their rituals and religious routines.
Like some in that audience, you've been told that joy is only possible for those with a great religious resume. Jesus flips it: Blessed are the poor in spirit — the spiritually bankrupt, those willing to say, "I have nothing to offer this great and holy God."
And yet that is exactly what He receives from me, and in exchange He gives me purpose, life, destiny, and joy. Not through some impressive religious resume earned by works, but received through humble faith.
You've been told happiness is impossible for those caught in a storm of grief. Jesus says, Happy are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Even in Christian culture, we've sometimes misled people with empty emotional slogans — "faith over feelings," "fake it till you make it." Just because it looks good on a bumper sticker doesn't mean it's scriptural.
When Jesus says Blessed are those who mourn, He's reinforcing the reality that we will mourn. You have permission to feel what you feel. You don't have permission to stay in what you feel, but you can bring the work of the gospel even into the dark emotions of your life — and you'll realize the gospel works even there.
You don't have to fake a Christian smile. You can actually go find one, because even beneath the depths of your sorrow, there's something deeper: the joy of the Lord, and it's your strength and comfort.
You've been told delusional self-confidence brings opportunity. Jesus says, Happy are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. That's intentional humility — strength under control.
The best definition I've ever heard is this:
Meekness is the evidence of a sanctified ego.
I've found that God more often puts His greatest gifts and opportunities on the bottom shelf, where only the people willing to get low can reach them.
Jesus is revealing a shift in the human condition. And here's the challenge: many of us will agree ideologically that Jesus is the only way into this great joy. But look at our lives practically, and they tell a different story.
The only access point into true, lasting happiness is a doorway called Jesus. Yet so often we expect to find joy from our spouse, from the achievements of our children, from the next acquisition. And after a certain amount of time you realize you can walk through every one of those doors and find nothing but empty space on the other side.
I've been there. Back when we lived in Houston, I was so excited because I finally had my own writing room. For most of my songwriting career, I had to hide from my children — in the closet, or at the dining room table with a blanket over my head as a signal: "Don't talk to me right now, I'm working."
So when I got a room to write songs in, it was amazing. I painted it green because I like green. (I found out later that geniuses choose green — pure coincidence.)
One night, family was coming over because I was about to be on an award show, nominated for something. Upstairs I could hear my little boys running around, chasing some imaginary monster. In the kitchen, Lauren was cooking one of my favorite meals. And I thought, This is perfect. I'm going to walk over to the piano and sing a great praise song.
But these melancholy chords started coming together, and I began to sing:
You could have it all — the whole world at your feet — every little thing you think you need, and still feel empty.
And I thought, How could I be surrounded by so much goodness from God and still feel emptiness rising to the surface of my heart? I realized it's because even when good gifts come from God, they're still not God. Nothing can satisfy your soul like God can.
In my research for the book Joy Bomb, I came across author and pastor David Murray, who identifies seven categories of happiness:
The first six are available to anyone because of God's common grace. That's why people outside of Jesus can find fulfillment in a career, or sit at a table with friends and laugh until they cry.
But there's a seventh: spiritual happiness. And what we often do is try to use the other six to fill the void that the absence of the seventh creates. More friends, more opportunity, more busyness, more money, more stuff — all to fill a hole they can't fill.
Spiritual happiness acts as a seal around the human soul. Without that seal, you can consume the whole world and your soul will still leak. But with it, work is different, because you're not doing it for people — you're doing it unto the Lord. The sky is a little brighter even when it's gray, because you know all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose.
The genius of Jesus isn't just what He says — it's where He says it.
A friend once gave me "good" advice when we started having kids: take each child on a special five-year trip, just you and them. This sounded great when there were only two of them. Now we've got four.
My first son, Canaan, turned five, and I asked where he wanted to go. This big-headed little dude picked the trip of all trips: Disney World. So we went.
Then my second son, Lawson, turned five. He looked me dead in the eye — not even three feet tall — and said, "Dad, I want to go to Japan." I said, "Bro, you can't even speak English. Where would you like to go within the continental United States?" He melted into a puddle of tears, wiped his last one, and said, "Fine. I'll go to Disney World." So we took him to Disney World.
Third son? Disney World. Our youngest is about to turn five, and guess where we're taking him? San Antonio. Here's some Mickey Mouse ears — that's the Alamo, let's take a picture.
Disney World has a reputation as "the happiest place on earth." But I've seen more people throw fits, stomp their feet, and cry their eyes out there — and the kids misbehave too. Families that were great fell apart the moment Dad strapped on a backpack with a water straw. Who is this guy? It was you.
Isn't it funny how we assign expectations to certain locations — not just geographic ones, but stages we imagine we'll reach in life?
We keep moving the goalpost further and further down the line. But Jesus anticipated that we'd be like this.
When we study the geography of Matthew 5, we discover the theology of joy. Jesus did not choose to teach this message on a mountain. We call it the Sermon on the Mount, but I looked it up — it's a hill.
It wasn't Mount Sinai (7,500 feet — glory of God, the Ten Commandments, the glory cloud). It wasn't Mount Zion (2,500 feet — prophesied as a great beacon of hope). It was a little place you've never heard of, at about 410 feet in elevation. An ordinary place.
Jesus chose an ordinary place to teach a masterclass on joy. Why? Because we don't live life on Zion. We don't live life on Moriah. We don't live in spectacular places. And just because it isn't spectacular doesn't mean it isn't significant.
God wants to give you a joy that works in the ordinary.
Because you're going to spend more time in traffic than on vacation. You're going to spend more time getting crushed in life than being celebrated in life. And if the joy doesn't work there, the joy doesn't work.
The name of that place means desolate, isolated, strength. Jesus shows us that joy is possible when you're in a desolate place, an isolated place — and He shows us where the strength really is. It has nothing to do with where we are, and everything to do with whose presence we're in.
The greatest revelation of Matthew 5 is not eight keys to becoming more Christian. It's not a set of ideals for a more prosperous life. Matthew 5 is Jesus revealing Himself.
So if I'm going to reintroduce you to the idea of joy, I have to tell you: it's more than an idea. More than an ideal. More than a principle. It's a person.
For some of us, the person of Jesus has been so mischaracterized that we don't even recognize Him. I want you to allow joy to reintroduce Himself.
Jesus, would You open our hearts and our lives to seeing You for who You really are — that we would experience Your power, Your goodness, Your glory. That we would understand that the joy of the Lord is our strength, but it's not some abstract concept. It is an intimate relationship with You. In Jesus' name. Amen.
I wonder how many of you recognize that you've been looking for joy, meaning, and happiness in outward accomplishments — in being recognized by people, in what you can accumulate, in where you can go and who you know — and you've been looking for it everywhere except the only One who can truly give it. You're trying to fill a spiritual void with everything that's not spiritual. What you really need is Jesus.
Who is Jesus? He is the Son of God, perfect in every way. He came to earth not for the righteous but for sinners, not for the healthy but for the sick — the broken ones who needed healing and salvation. He was the Lamb of God who died on a cross and rose again to life, so that anyone — and this includes you — could be broken free of the curse and find the blessing of joy and new life in Christ.
What do we do? We stop searching for it in this world. We step away from our sin. We surrender to the lordship of Christ. He makes us new. The old is gone, the sin is forgiven, and you become new.
It's not more of this world — it's more of Jesus.
So step away, repent of your sin, and call on Him. When you do, He'll hear your prayer, forgive all your sins, enter your life, and fill you with the fullness of joy and the power of the Holy Spirit. You'll never be the same.
If that's you today — you know you need His forgiveness, His grace, His joy, His life — pray this with me:
Heavenly Father, I receive eternal life. I receive forgiveness of sins and confess the lordship of Christ. Forgive my sins, Jesus. I give my life to You. Fill me with Your Spirit, Your joy, and Your peace, that I could know You and walk with You, overflowing with Your love. Thank You for forgiveness. Thank You for Your joy. Thank You for new life. I give You all of mine. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Book Club
I'm going to start this message by asking for your forgiveness, because I'm going to ask you to bypass your religious reflexes just for a moment today.
I want you to forget the scowl of that mean Christian you encountered at some point in your childhood. Move to the side, for a moment, the disdain some people carry for the very idea of a happy Christian. Some people are tormented by the thought that we could be following Jesus and be happy about it — that we serve a God who is not merely to be endured, but a God who is meant to be enjoyed.
Set aside the notion that happiness is based on personality, circumstances, temperament, or emotional state. I want to investigate a wild idea: that you were created by the God of infinite joy. And if you were created by the God of infinite joy, can I dare tell you today that your happiness matters to God?
Remember MythBusters? They tested ideas that had been absorbed as truths to see if they'd really hold up. Let me do a little myth busting before we get into this conversation.
This is a modern-day misconception. The distinction between happiness and joy does not exist in Scripture. Words like joy, blessed, delight, and happy are used almost interchangeably. They dance around each other in the text. This split between joy and happiness is a fairly modern development in Christian circles.
Even John Piper has said that if you have nice little categories — joy is what Christians have and happiness is what the world has — you can scrap those when you go to the Bible, because the Bible is indiscriminate in its use of the language of happiness, joy, contentment, and satisfaction.
Myth busted.
Some teaching in religious circles creates a false dichotomy. You'll hear it preached: God doesn't care about your happiness, He only cares about your holiness. I understand the intent. What we're trying to emphasize is that God's character being formed in us is more important than our comfort — and to that I wholeheartedly agree.
But the character of Christ being formed in us produces something. It produces happiness. It produces joy — not just temporarily, but eternally.
Holiness produces joy.
We cannot divorce joy and happiness from God's own character. Scripture says that in His presence is the fullness of joy. How could God produce that which He does not possess? In the New Testament, we find that the Spirit of God in a person produces fruit — and the fruit is love, joy.
So I get joy when I'm in God's presence, and I produce joy when God's presence is in me. These ideas are inseparable. The process of sanctification and holiness in you does not kill happiness. It reroutes and deepens the reservoir from which it flows.
There's an indelible quality to last words. Weighty words that seal the end of a moment with great finality.
(By the way, Rose, you robbed us of Titanic 2 because you were selfish. There was room on the door. That's all I have to say about it.)
But what about famous first words — words that carry weight not because of their finality, but because of their primacy?
Did you know the last word of your Old Testament is the word curse? The story of God's people did not end on a high note. They could not keep up with the traditions, requirements, and regulations of God's law. All they were left with was a curse.
Then you fast-forward to the New Testament, to Matthew 5, where Jesus sits down with a crowd and delivers His inaugural message. And the very first word out of His mouth is blessed.
Do you think the people on the hillside caught it that day? This wasn't a coincidence. It was a reorientation of a heart posture, a belief system — spoken to people who had been burdened and beaten down by the law, by religion and politics used to oppress them. Their whole lives had been lived underneath a curse. And now this new feel-good preacher comes to town and says, I've got good news for you.
Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek.
He was pointing the hearts of the people back to the original intention of God. Because the first interaction God ever had with humanity was that He blessed them — told them to be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, and subdue it.
The word blessed in the original language was not heard the way we receive it today. When we hear blessed, we think, "Shoutout, 2016, hashtag blessed — car, house, promotion." No. These people heard the word happy.
Go look it up. Happy.
It forces us to ask the question: How important is your happiness to God, if it's the first thing He chooses to teach about in His first message ever?
The audience that day could not believe what they were hearing. The would-be disciples and the religious scholars all received this at the same time — and it was problematic. It sent shivers through their traditions and rivets through their rituals and religious routines.
Like some in that audience, you've been told that joy is only possible for those with a great religious resume. Jesus flips it: Blessed are the poor in spirit — the spiritually bankrupt, those willing to say, "I have nothing to offer this great and holy God."
And yet that is exactly what He receives from me, and in exchange He gives me purpose, life, destiny, and joy. Not through some impressive religious resume earned by works, but received through humble faith.
You've been told happiness is impossible for those caught in a storm of grief. Jesus says, Happy are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Even in Christian culture, we've sometimes misled people with empty emotional slogans — "faith over feelings," "fake it till you make it." Just because it looks good on a bumper sticker doesn't mean it's scriptural.
When Jesus says Blessed are those who mourn, He's reinforcing the reality that we will mourn. You have permission to feel what you feel. You don't have permission to stay in what you feel, but you can bring the work of the gospel even into the dark emotions of your life — and you'll realize the gospel works even there.
You don't have to fake a Christian smile. You can actually go find one, because even beneath the depths of your sorrow, there's something deeper: the joy of the Lord, and it's your strength and comfort.
You've been told delusional self-confidence brings opportunity. Jesus says, Happy are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. That's intentional humility — strength under control.
The best definition I've ever heard is this:
Meekness is the evidence of a sanctified ego.
I've found that God more often puts His greatest gifts and opportunities on the bottom shelf, where only the people willing to get low can reach them.
Jesus is revealing a shift in the human condition. And here's the challenge: many of us will agree ideologically that Jesus is the only way into this great joy. But look at our lives practically, and they tell a different story.
The only access point into true, lasting happiness is a doorway called Jesus. Yet so often we expect to find joy from our spouse, from the achievements of our children, from the next acquisition. And after a certain amount of time you realize you can walk through every one of those doors and find nothing but empty space on the other side.
I've been there. Back when we lived in Houston, I was so excited because I finally had my own writing room. For most of my songwriting career, I had to hide from my children — in the closet, or at the dining room table with a blanket over my head as a signal: "Don't talk to me right now, I'm working."
So when I got a room to write songs in, it was amazing. I painted it green because I like green. (I found out later that geniuses choose green — pure coincidence.)
One night, family was coming over because I was about to be on an award show, nominated for something. Upstairs I could hear my little boys running around, chasing some imaginary monster. In the kitchen, Lauren was cooking one of my favorite meals. And I thought, This is perfect. I'm going to walk over to the piano and sing a great praise song.
But these melancholy chords started coming together, and I began to sing:
You could have it all — the whole world at your feet — every little thing you think you need, and still feel empty.
And I thought, How could I be surrounded by so much goodness from God and still feel emptiness rising to the surface of my heart? I realized it's because even when good gifts come from God, they're still not God. Nothing can satisfy your soul like God can.
In my research for the book Joy Bomb, I came across author and pastor David Murray, who identifies seven categories of happiness:
The first six are available to anyone because of God's common grace. That's why people outside of Jesus can find fulfillment in a career, or sit at a table with friends and laugh until they cry.
But there's a seventh: spiritual happiness. And what we often do is try to use the other six to fill the void that the absence of the seventh creates. More friends, more opportunity, more busyness, more money, more stuff — all to fill a hole they can't fill.
Spiritual happiness acts as a seal around the human soul. Without that seal, you can consume the whole world and your soul will still leak. But with it, work is different, because you're not doing it for people — you're doing it unto the Lord. The sky is a little brighter even when it's gray, because you know all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose.
The genius of Jesus isn't just what He says — it's where He says it.
A friend once gave me "good" advice when we started having kids: take each child on a special five-year trip, just you and them. This sounded great when there were only two of them. Now we've got four.
My first son, Canaan, turned five, and I asked where he wanted to go. This big-headed little dude picked the trip of all trips: Disney World. So we went.
Then my second son, Lawson, turned five. He looked me dead in the eye — not even three feet tall — and said, "Dad, I want to go to Japan." I said, "Bro, you can't even speak English. Where would you like to go within the continental United States?" He melted into a puddle of tears, wiped his last one, and said, "Fine. I'll go to Disney World." So we took him to Disney World.
Third son? Disney World. Our youngest is about to turn five, and guess where we're taking him? San Antonio. Here's some Mickey Mouse ears — that's the Alamo, let's take a picture.
Disney World has a reputation as "the happiest place on earth." But I've seen more people throw fits, stomp their feet, and cry their eyes out there — and the kids misbehave too. Families that were great fell apart the moment Dad strapped on a backpack with a water straw. Who is this guy? It was you.
Isn't it funny how we assign expectations to certain locations — not just geographic ones, but stages we imagine we'll reach in life?
We keep moving the goalpost further and further down the line. But Jesus anticipated that we'd be like this.
When we study the geography of Matthew 5, we discover the theology of joy. Jesus did not choose to teach this message on a mountain. We call it the Sermon on the Mount, but I looked it up — it's a hill.
It wasn't Mount Sinai (7,500 feet — glory of God, the Ten Commandments, the glory cloud). It wasn't Mount Zion (2,500 feet — prophesied as a great beacon of hope). It was a little place you've never heard of, at about 410 feet in elevation. An ordinary place.
Jesus chose an ordinary place to teach a masterclass on joy. Why? Because we don't live life on Zion. We don't live life on Moriah. We don't live in spectacular places. And just because it isn't spectacular doesn't mean it isn't significant.
God wants to give you a joy that works in the ordinary.
Because you're going to spend more time in traffic than on vacation. You're going to spend more time getting crushed in life than being celebrated in life. And if the joy doesn't work there, the joy doesn't work.
The name of that place means desolate, isolated, strength. Jesus shows us that joy is possible when you're in a desolate place, an isolated place — and He shows us where the strength really is. It has nothing to do with where we are, and everything to do with whose presence we're in.
The greatest revelation of Matthew 5 is not eight keys to becoming more Christian. It's not a set of ideals for a more prosperous life. Matthew 5 is Jesus revealing Himself.
So if I'm going to reintroduce you to the idea of joy, I have to tell you: it's more than an idea. More than an ideal. More than a principle. It's a person.
For some of us, the person of Jesus has been so mischaracterized that we don't even recognize Him. I want you to allow joy to reintroduce Himself.
Jesus, would You open our hearts and our lives to seeing You for who You really are — that we would experience Your power, Your goodness, Your glory. That we would understand that the joy of the Lord is our strength, but it's not some abstract concept. It is an intimate relationship with You. In Jesus' name. Amen.
I wonder how many of you recognize that you've been looking for joy, meaning, and happiness in outward accomplishments — in being recognized by people, in what you can accumulate, in where you can go and who you know — and you've been looking for it everywhere except the only One who can truly give it. You're trying to fill a spiritual void with everything that's not spiritual. What you really need is Jesus.
Who is Jesus? He is the Son of God, perfect in every way. He came to earth not for the righteous but for sinners, not for the healthy but for the sick — the broken ones who needed healing and salvation. He was the Lamb of God who died on a cross and rose again to life, so that anyone — and this includes you — could be broken free of the curse and find the blessing of joy and new life in Christ.
What do we do? We stop searching for it in this world. We step away from our sin. We surrender to the lordship of Christ. He makes us new. The old is gone, the sin is forgiven, and you become new.
It's not more of this world — it's more of Jesus.
So step away, repent of your sin, and call on Him. When you do, He'll hear your prayer, forgive all your sins, enter your life, and fill you with the fullness of joy and the power of the Holy Spirit. You'll never be the same.
If that's you today — you know you need His forgiveness, His grace, His joy, His life — pray this with me:
Heavenly Father, I receive eternal life. I receive forgiveness of sins and confess the lordship of Christ. Forgive my sins, Jesus. I give my life to You. Fill me with Your Spirit, Your joy, and Your peace, that I could know You and walk with You, overflowing with Your love. Thank You for forgiveness. Thank You for Your joy. Thank You for new life. I give You all of mine. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
