The Sacred Practice of Choosing Joy (Even Here)

Sunday, July 13, 2025

Philippians 4:4 (NLT) - “Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice!”

Joy Isn’t Optional—It’s Oxygen

Breathe.

No, not the quick, shallow breath you take when your inbox dings or someone asks, “What’s for dinner?” again. I mean a real breath—a slow, sacred inhale that whispers to your nervous system: “You are safe. You can land here.”

So go ahead. Inhale through your nose. Hold it for a moment. Now exhale gently through your mouth. Let your jaw unclench. Let your belly soften. Let your shoulders drop like they’re finally allowed to stop holding the world up. Feel your body right where it is—not chasing what’s next, not rehearsing what went wrong. Just here.

Now imagine we’re sitting across from each other at a little café table—maybe your favorite mug in hand, maybe a journal cracked open on the side. Not a performance in sight. Just you. Present. Real. Becoming.

Because before we talk about joy as a practice, as a posture, as a strategy—can we first admit that most of us have been out of rhythm with joy for a while?

Let’s tell the truth: for many of us, joy has been treated like that quirky friend we love but don’t quite trust to show up consistently. We think of it as a guest that swings by after everything is “figured out”—after the bills are paid, the healing is done, the relationships are fixed, and the dreams are manifesting like clockwork. But that’s not joy. That’s circumstantial relief.

Real joy?

Biblical joy?

Prophetic joy?

It’s what shows up in the middle of the mess and says, “I’m not leaving just because things are hard.”

It’s what Paul wrote about—not from a luxury suite with a full itinerary of miracles—but from a prison cell. Let that sink in. This isn’t a motivational poster. This is Scripture from a prison. Paul’s body was chained, but his joy was not. He writes with clarity, boldness, and urgency:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I’ll say it again—rejoice.”

Did you catch that? He repeats it. He doesn’t assume you got it the first time. That’s not just redundancy—it’s rhythm. Repetition builds rhythm. Rhythm builds resilience.

Because Paul knew what we often forget: joy isn’t a mood. It’s a muscle. And the more you work it, the stronger it gets.

Joy isn’t passive. It’s chosen. And sometimes? It’s chosen with tears still in your eyes. With disappointment still fresh in your chest. With a to-do list still ten items too long and a soul that hasn’t felt rested in weeks.

But that’s the beauty of Spirit-filled joy—it doesn’t deny the struggle; it declares that the struggle doesn’t get the final say.

Joy is a holy protest in a world addicted to despair.

It’s a divine interruption to the burnout cycle.

It’s the banner you wave that says, “God is still here. And so am I.”

The Science Behind Spiritual Joy

Now, I know some of us were raised on the idea that faith and science are at odds—but hear me: they are not enemies. They are partners. Science is simply the mechanics of what God has already written into your design.

So let’s talk about your brilliant God-designed brain for a second.

Your brain isn’t stuck. It’s not doomed to loop the same thought patterns forever. Because of neuroplasticity, your mind can literally rewire itself. It’s like God left a back door open in your brain that says, “Hey, if this thought doesn’t serve you, we can change the route.”

Every time you pause to thank God for something—even something small like clean water, warm socks, or the sunlight coming through your window—dopamine is released. That’s your brain’s way of saying, “Yes, let’s do more of that.”

Serotonin levels rise when you write in your gratitude journal, take a walk, play your favorite worship song, or sit in stillness with God. These aren’t just spiritual practices. They’re also physiological reset buttons.

Even your body joins in the party. When you laugh, sing, hum, or even rock gently, your vagus nerve is stimulated. That nerve is the MVP of your parasympathetic nervous system. It tells your body, “We’re not in danger anymore. You can move from defense to delight.”

So what does that mean practically?

Joy isn’t just good theology.

It’s healing.

It rewires trauma.

It settles the storm swirling inside you.

It brings your body, your brain, and your spirit back into alignment.

What Happens When Joy Becomes a Lifestyle

Let’s go a little deeper—because joy isn’t just a concept to nod your head at in devotionals. It’s a lifestyle decision.

When joy is absent, it doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it slips out quietly. You might not even notice right away. You keep doing the things—showing up to work, serving others, replying to messages—but something in you feels muted.

You laugh less. You stop singing in the car. You feel like you’re on autopilot. Your voice gets flatter, your pace gets faster, and your spirit feels like it’s shrinking to fit inside all the responsibilities. You tell yourself, “I’ll slow down later. I’ll celebrate next time. I just have to get through this.”

But here’s what I’ve learned as both a coach and someone who’s lived in the grind:

When you delay joy long enough, your soul forgets how to recognize it.

And beloved, I don’t want you forgetting joy.

You were made for more than survival.

You were made for joy that runs deep, even in the middle of a hard season.

Not fake smiles. Not forced gratitude. Real joy.

And when you begin to make space for that kind of joy again?

It changes everything.

Your conversations become lighter, but somehow deeper. You notice beauty again—in the curve of a leaf, in a child’s laughter, in the way your body exhales when you let go. You don’t need everything to be perfect to celebrate progress. You learn how to live in the moment, not just survive it.

And yes, sometimes that looks like pausing in the mirror, looking into your own eyes, and smiling—just because you’re still here. Sometimes it means turning on your favorite worship playlist and dancing while you do the dishes. Sometimes it looks like texting someone just to say, “You make life lighter.”

It looks like joy becoming your medicine. Your practice. Your quiet rebellion.

Let’s Talk About Your Joy Strategy

If we were sitting together in a coaching session right now—maybe on Zoom with cozy lighting, or side-by-side on a walk with the wind gently brushing past us—I’d lean in and say gently,

“Hey… what does joy feel like in your body?”

Not what it looks like in your photos. Not what it performs like in front of others.

But in your actual body—your nervous system, your chest, your shoulders, your breath—what does joy feel like?

Does it feel like lightness in your chest? Like laughter rising before your mind even knows why?

Like your jaw unclenched for once? Like tears that come not from sadness, but from the holy surprise that life can still feel good sometimes?

And then I’d ask,

“When was the last time you let yourself experience it without rushing past it or disqualifying it?”

Joy often tries to show up, but we wave it off like an uninvited guest: “Not now. I haven’t done enough yet. I still have work to do. It’s not the right time.”

But joy doesn’t knock because you’ve earned it.

Joy knocks because it’s sacred.

Somewhere along the way, many of us were taught that maturity means we’ve got to be stoic. That to be wise, we have to be quiet and serious. That to be holy, we have to be heavy.

But the truth is—joy is deeply mature. Joy is wildly wise. Joy is completely holy.

Joy is not childish. It’s prophetic.

It tells the world, “Heaven has the final say. I can laugh because Love already won.”

So let’s build a strategy.

Not a strict one. Not a rigid one.

A living rhythm—one that breathes with your seasons and speaks to your soul.

Here’s your joy-building framework, as your coach,

Clarity

Get curious. What does joy actually mean to you? Not the filtered version you were sold on social media. Not what your family praised or punished. But the real thing.

Is it music blasting as you clean your kitchen barefoot?

Is it finding the perfect metaphor in a journal entry?

Is it watching clouds move and realizing time can slow down?

Grab a pen and write it out:

“Joy, to me, looks like…”

“Joy, to me, sounds like…”

“Joy, to me, feels like…”

Write until it makes your heart smile.

Commitment

Now choose one sacred joy practice to commit to this week. Just one.

Maybe it’s a two-minute dance break between Zoom calls.

Maybe it’s lighting a candle and sitting with your coffee before the house wakes up.

Maybe it’s whispering, “Thank You, God,” every time you laugh—like a tiny praise offering.

Keep it simple. Keep it honest. Let your joy practice fit your current energy—not your idealized one.

Compassion

This part is essential. Because life will happen. You’ll forget. You’ll fall off.

But when you do—no shame spirals, okay?

Don’t scrap the whole thing just because one day felt like a dumpster fire.

Joy is not a checklist. It’s a covenant.

It’s not about performance. It’s about presence.

So when you fall off track, come back like you’re coming home. Gently. Softly.

As many times as it takes.

Daily Micro Joy Rhythm

Let’s start small. Gentle. Sustainable. Let’s build a joy rhythm that doesn’t require a whole morning routine overhaul or three hours of free time you don’t have. Let’s begin with what I call Daily Micro Joy.

These are the tiny, sacred touchpoints in your day that remind your brain and your body that joy is not only allowed—it’s safe here. It’s a whisper to your nervous system that you don’t have to wait until the storm passes, the bills are paid, or you’ve “done enough” to feel lightness. You can taste joy now—in the in-between, the ordinary, the messy middle.

And here’s the beautiful thing about micro joy: it compounds. Small joy moments, done intentionally, begin to shift the atmosphere of your inner life. They re-pattern your brain. They expand your capacity for peace. And they anchor you in the present moment, where God is already waiting.

So today, I want you to choose one micro joy practice and do it on purpose. Here are a few unique ideas to try,

Joy Sip

Take the first sip of your morning drink—coffee, tea, warm lemon water—as a spiritual ritual. No phone. No to-do list. Just presence. As the warmth moves through your body, whisper, “Thank You for this moment.” Let it be a communion with joy.

The 60-Second Smile Mirror

Set a timer for 60 seconds. Look in the mirror and smile—not a fake, forced grin, but a soft, curious one. Notice what feelings come up. Say something kind to yourself. Something true. Like, “You’re still here. You’re still becoming.” Let joy settle into your face, your breath, your bones.

The Joy Pebble

Pick a small item—like a smooth stone, a bracelet, or a hair tie—and every time you touch it throughout the day, let it remind you to take one slow breath and name something good. Tiny gratitude. Big shift.

Joy From the Sky

Look up. Literally. Each time you step outside today, pause and look at the sky. Cloudy, bright, golden hour or stormy—let it remind you that beauty still exists without your permission. Whisper a breath prayer like, “Let there be light—inside and out.”

Now listen—don’t try to do all of these. This isn’t about building a perfect ritual. It’s about finding your personal spark and fanning it into flame.

Pick one. Try it today. Maybe try it tomorrow too. And if you forget on day three? That’s okay. Come back. You’re not behind. You’re building a rhythm, not proving your worth.

Let this one small act be your sacred rebellion. Your joyful resistance to burnout, numbness, and hurry.

And remember—this rhythm doesn’t need to feel dramatic to be divine.

It just needs to feel like truth.

Like breath.

Like coming home.

Faith-Based Affirmations

I am worthy of joy—not later, but now.

I choose joy as an act of faith, not just a feeling.

Joy is my divine rhythm, my soul’s inheritance, and my holy strategy.

Reflection Questions

What story have I believed about joy that’s kept me from receiving it fully?

In what areas of life have I withheld joy from myself out of fear, guilt, or performance?

What is one joy practice I can begin today that feels honest and healing?

Prayer Targets

Holy Spirit, remind me that joy is not frivolous—it’s foundational.

God, help me notice the moments of beauty You place in my path each day.

Jesus, teach me to celebrate—even in small, sacred ways—because You are always near.

Song of the Day

Let this song be your companion today—whether you're journaling, cleaning, or riding the train. Let it remind your spirit that joy isn’t something you have to chase. It’s something you carry, because God dwells within you.

Let’s connect. Not just in the comments, not just with a double tap. I want to know what’s been on your heart. Let’s talk, dream out loud, pray if you need it, laugh if you feel like it, just real space for real conversation.

Listen to Meditation

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