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Advent Joy When You Don’t Feel Joyful
- Ruth Hovsepian
- 3 days ago
- 6 min read
The third week of Advent is all about joy.
In many churches, a different candle is lit—sometimes pink instead of purple—reminding us to rejoice. It’s beautiful symbolism … unless you’re sitting in the pew thinking:
“Honestly? I don’t feel joyful at all.”
Maybe you’re exhausted from serving everyone else.
Maybe you’re carrying grief that doesn’t take a holiday.
Maybe you’re wrestling with addiction or secret sin and wondering if real joy is even possible for you.
If that’s where you are, I want you to hear this clearly:
Advent joy is not a personality trait or a performance. It’s a gift—anchored in Jesus, not in your mood.
You don’t have to fake a smile for God. You can bring Him your real heart in this third week of Advent.
Advent Joy When You Don’t Feel Joyful in the Middle of Waiting
By this point in December, the “sparkle” of the season can start to wear off:
The to-do list is still long.
The family tensions haven’t magically resolved.
The grief or loneliness you’re carrying is still right there.
Advent joy when you don’t feel joyful is still possible because it’s anchored in Jesus, not in how you feel today.
And yet, the Church invites us to rejoice—not at the end of the story when everything is fixed, but right in the messy middle.
That’s what I love about Advent. It’s honest about waiting. We celebrate that Jesus has come, but we’re also groaning for Him to come again and make all things new. Joy lives in that tension.
Advent joy isn’t “Everything is fine.” Advent joy is “Jesus is here with me—even when everything is not fine.”
When “Rejoice Always” Feels Like Too Much
There were seasons in my life when verses about joy felt almost offensive.
I was a pastor’s kid. I knew all the “rejoice in the Lord always” verses. I could quote Scripture about joy while my own heart felt hollow and dark. I lived a secret life of addiction, sexual sin, and deep shame, and I thought:
“If I really loved Jesus, I’d feel joyful. So clearly something’s wrong with me.”
So I did what many of us do. I faked it.
I smiled in church. I served. I said the right words. On the inside, I was crumbling.
Here’s what I’ve learned since:
Biblical joy is not denial. It doesn’t require you to pretend your pain isn’t real.
Biblical joy doesn’t erase grief. You can rejoice and weep in the same season.
Biblical joy is rooted in a Person, not a feeling. Joy is anchored in Jesus—who He is and what He has done—not in how steady or spiritual you feel today.
If “rejoice always” feels impossible right now, you’re not broken. You’re human. The invitation is not “try harder to feel happy,” but “come closer to the One who is your joy.”
What the Bible Really Says About Joy in the Dark
Let’s look at a few glimpses of joy that don’t ignore pain:
Philippians 4:4 – “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” Paul wrote this from prison. This isn’t pep-talk joy; it’s anchored joy.
Nehemiah 8:10 – “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” Joy isn’t a reward for being strong. His joy becomes your strength in weakness.
Habakkuk 3:17–18 – even if the fields are empty and nothing is going well, the prophet says, “yet I will rejoice in the Lord.” That’s not toxic positivity. It’s choosing to cling to God when circumstances are bleak.
Luke 1:46–47 – Mary’s song: “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…” Mary rejoices in God while facing uncertainty, gossip, misunderstanding, and risk. Joy and fear walked side by side.
In all these, joy is not lightheartedness. It’s a deep, steady confidence in God’s goodness and presence, even in the dark.
Joy doesn’t always sound like laughter. Sometimes it sounds like a shaky “I still trust You, Lord.”
Small Ways to Practice Joy (Without Faking It)
If you’re weary, the last thing you need is another “Christian to-do list.” So here are some gentle, realistic ways to lean into Advent joy this week—no pretending required.
1. Tell God the Truth First
Before you try to “rejoice,” start by being honest.
You can pray something like:
“Lord, You know I don’t feel joyful. Here’s what hurts… here’s what scares me… here’s what I’m ashamed of…”
Joy grows best in truthful soil, not in forced cheerfulness.
2. Look for One Evidence of Grace Each Day
Joy often starts small.
Each day this week, ask:
“Lord, show me one small grace today.”
It might be:
A quiet cup of coffee.
A text from a friend.
A verse that lands at just the right moment.
A moment of laughter you didn’t expect.
Write these down somewhere—your phone, a sticky note, a journal. You’re not trying to ignore the hard things; you’re learning to spot God’s presence in the middle of them.
3. Let Worship Borrow Words for You
When you don’t know what to pray or say, borrow words.
A simple worship song about the joy we have in Christ.
A psalm that talks about rejoicing in God.
A verse you whisper under your breath while driving or folding laundry.
Let those borrowed words carry you when your own feel thin.
4. Share One Honest Moment with a Safe Person
Joy increases when it’s shared—but so does honesty.
This week, consider telling one safe person:
“This season is harder than it looks from the outside.”
You don’t need to unpack everything at once. Just take a step toward not being alone. Sometimes the tiniest crack of vulnerability lets in a surprising amount of light.
5. Release the Pressure to Be the “Joyful One”
If you’re the person who always tries to keep everyone else upbeat—especially at Christmas—I want to free you from that job description.
You are not responsible for:
Managing everyone’s emotions
Making the holiday “magical”
Keeping the mood light all the time
Ask Jesus:
“Where am I forcing joy for others instead of receiving Your joy for myself?”
It might be time to quietly lay down a role you were never meant to carry.
For Those Walking Through Recovery or Secret Sin
If you are in the thick of addiction, secret sin, or the long road of recovery, joy can feel like a distant concept.
I understand that. There were Christmases when I felt like the most disqualified person in the room. Shame told me:
“You don’t get joy. You forfeited that.”
But here’s what the gospel says:
Joy is not a prize for the “good Christians.”
Joy is part of the inheritance of every child of God—yes, even the ones who have fallen, failed, and are slowly learning to walk again.
You might not feel it yet. That’s okay. You can still pray:
“Jesus, I don’t feel joy, but I believe You are my joy. Help me trust that You haven’t disqualified me from Your goodness.”
Joy in recovery is often quiet and slow. It looks like:
Waking up sober one more day.
Telling the truth a little more often.
Feeling shame loses a tiny bit of its grip.
Realizing, “I am not the person I used to be,” even if you’re not where you want to be yet.
That, too, is Advent joy.
A Prayer for the Third Week of Advent (Joy)
Lord Jesus, You are my joy, even when my heart feels tired, numb, or heavy. As I step into this third week of Advent, I bring You my real emotions—my grief, my stress, my temptation to hide, my longing for things to be different.
Teach me what it means to rejoice in You, not in my circumstances.
Open my eyes to the small graces You’re giving me each day.
Strengthen me on the long road of healing and recovery.
Let Your joy be my strength when I feel I have none of my own.
I may not feel joyful, but I choose to trust that You have not forgotten me, and You have not taken joy off the table for my life.
In Your name, Jesus, Amen.
Keep Walking with Me
If this reflection on Advent joy spoke to you, I’d love to keep walking alongside you:
Explore my books (including my devotional JOY) here: /books
Listen to honest, real-life conversations on the podcast: /podcast
If you’d like me to speak to your church, retreat, or women’s event about joy, recovery, and discipleship, visit: /speaking
Need to reach out directly? You can contact me here: /contact
You are not too broken for joy. Jesus came for you.
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