It caught me one day without any warning. I should have been jubilant. For two years we had been trying to raise support to go to the mission field. We had finally reached our goal. We were at last ready to move.
And now, unexpectedly, I felt empty, listless. After pouring my entire life into one goal for two years, I completely lost motivation when we achieved the goal. And I didn’t want to talk about it either. After all, missionaries are supposed to be above all of that, aren’t they? Come to think of it, all Christians are supposed to live above their feelings. Don’t we sing
“Not a shadow can rise,
Not a cloud in the skies,
But His smile quickly drives it away;
Not a doubt or a fear,
Not a sigh or a tear,
Can abide while we trust and obey.”
It’s a great song. But how realistic are those words really? Not one fear… not one cloud… Really? On what planet?
And somehow the resulting assumption seems to be that good Christians don’t struggle. Good Christians don’t even get sad. If you’re sad, perplexed, or anything but emotionally placid something’s wrong with you. Here’s the billboard version of how it works:
It’s the Christian version of the wildly popular and completely wrong-headed Pharrell Williams song:
“Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth.”
I call it the myth of the perpetually jubilant Christian. Here are four reasons it’s a myth:
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Jesus got sad—really sad.
Where in the history of time and space has there been deeper grief or greater anxiety than Gethsemane? I will never face suffering like His—no one else ever has. But I am called to take up my cross and follow Him. If Jesus suffered anxiety and emotional turmoil, who am I to call that carnal? Is it possible that by following in His path, I might experience evenings of gut-wrenching pain? And if I do, maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s even good.
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Scripture guides us in our grief.
Some verses seem to support the myth of the perpetually jubilant Christian, such as “Rejoice in the Lord always” or “Rejoice evermore.” Fuller discussion will await a future post. But don’t forget that Scripture also speaks to our grief—directly, powerfully, and authentically. There is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance” (Eccl. 3:4). In fact, rejoicing is even wrong in some cases. “Be wretched and mourn and weep. Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom” (Jam. 4:9). Happy isn’t always godly—sometimes rejoicing is the quintessential expression of carnality, not godliness.
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The myth collapses into emotional prosperity theology.
Lots of preachers have become extremely rich by assuring their followers that Jesus can make them wealthy. The answer for the “have-nots” of course, is that they just didn’t have enough faith.
But I’m afraid that the myth of the happy Christian might work the same way. If you have a sanguine personality and few troubles, you can feel good about yourself. “I’m enjoying life and I’m happy after all. I must be doing something right.”
But there are happy criminals; there are happy pagans all over the world. More importantly, there are good people whose close walk with God has brought them into grief and sorrow. Each person’s pathway is their own. The true test of spirituality is not one’s emotional state at any given time—it’s your love for God and obedience to the commands of His word.
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Sadness is part of the divinely intended “rhythm of life.”
The most damaging collateral from this myth might be the authentic living we miss. Nobody likes to feel sad. We all wish that every day passed with “not a cloud in the sky.” But life and faith are bigger than that. In the weeks after giving birth, most women feel depressed. After arriving in a new field, most missionaries struggle with adjustment for months or even years. Pastors have to unwind every Monday. That’s normal—it’s even good. Life isn’t just placid emotional stasis, and it isn’t supposed to be. There are good reasons for both joy and pain. Your job isn’t to live above your emotions; it’s to respond in a biblical way, whatever your state.
Coming to the end of a goal that had dominated my life for two years, it wasn’t hard to explain why I felt listless. It also wasn’t hard to see that God was preparing me for new goals and for a transition. There was a good reason for the emotional struggle—it pointed me in new directions. Or as a new missionary on the field now, it isn’t hard to see that the daily frustrations of language learning and cultural adjustment are a great motivator to study harder and spend time with people.
Emotions work like that. They have a purpose. Life is about more than feeling euphoric for as many seconds as possible until you die. Joy should drive you to praise; inner turmoil should drive you to contemplation; either state should drive you to worship before the One who made you and your emotions.
It’s time to turn away from our culture’s longing for perpetual euphoria. Happiness actually isn’t the truth. Instead, it’s time to walk, whether in joy or pain, in constant dependance on the One Who alone is truth.
