I Choose Joy

Lesson: Learning What It Means to Choose Joy

I’ve been writing this letter since the day before Thanksgiving, by faith, hoping and praying that a year from now, I can read it with gratitude for my life having changed for the better. This post was written in about three different chunks of time, so hopefully it makes sense and isn’t too much rambling.

To be honest, I hate my life. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m incredibly thankful for so many things. I recently got a job that seems like it’ll put me in a better spot financially, and I’m grateful for that.

I’ll talk more about gratitude later, but the truth is that I’m writing this in pain. It’s hard to be grateful for life itself because I, reluctantly to say, xxxx x xxxxx xxxx xxxxxx. Xx xxx xxxxxxxx, xxx xxxx xxxxx xx xxx xxxx x xxxx x xxxxx xx. [This portion has been redacted because I’m just not ready to be this real.]

I’m alone. I don’t really have friends, I don’t really have family, I don’t have money, I don’t have the career of my dreams, I don’t really have much of anything. And it pains me whenever I see a beautiful woman because it’s yet another person in whose world I’d love to exist…yet another person who won’t give a crap about me. Yet another person I’ll think highly of but won’t have any feeling reciprocated.

I’m reminded of a song I wrote in high school:

Is this imaginary?

I thought my mind was a beautiful place to be

Is this real life?

I thought the world was a great place to travel and see

Am I really all alone in some vacuum dome

that nobody else has heard of but me?

– “Said Nothing” by Christian Sanders

Here I am probably 12 or 13 years later, and despite having gone through so much life, those words still ring true.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I find every sentence of gratitude starting with the words “at least”. At least I’m not homeless. At least I have one sibling and one friend to spend the holiday with. At least I made rent 26 days late and didn’t get evicted. At least I got a measly $50 credit on my car note after losing out on hundreds of dollars due to my vehicle being inoperable for several days. At least… At least… At least….

The funny thing is that these are things I’m truly grateful for. I don’t take a single one lightly because I’ve been in far worse positions in the past. But I look at my life, and I see no signs of the abundant life scripture says Jesus came to give me. All I see is desire, failure, mediocrity, disappointment, and survival.

The new year is right around the corner. And while every new year used to be met with excitement for a fresh start, now it’s just a reminder that I’m being forced to drift further and further away from the memories of having a mother — one person who loved me desperately, who I found joy in making proud. One person I could find solace in having a mutual closeness with amidst misery and depression.

This used to be my favorite time of year. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Getting time spent with tons of family members I rarely get the chance to see, seeing an ungodly amount of food and getting to taste the essence of a culture I take so much pride in… those were the days. But that familial vibrance died with my mother who I never realized was the glue to so many relationships and the foundation of all things communally life-giving.

My hope is that a year from now, I will read this letter and be grateful not for the “at leasts” but for newfound phenomena that can only be seen as pure blessing. That my third holiday post won’t have to have some sort of clever spin on it to muster its way toward positivity and gratitude. That my next “God is good” will be a statement of the obvious rather than a truth arrived at through murky waters.

Like a Child

I’ve always been someone who’s been driven by my calling and a clear vision of what I see my life looking like in the future. Come hell or high water, my calling hasn’t changed, so my vigorous pursuit will not either.

But this is the first year that that idea has been difficult to hold onto — the first year that the light at the end of the tunnel, if you will, has grown dim.

What if this is it for me? What if things never change? What if this struggle never lets up? What if I never experience freedom in the way I’ve envisioned? What if the faith I’ve had for all these years — the faith I’ve had through poverty, fatherlessness, depression, anxiety, ADHD, suicidal ideation, homelessness, and so much more — was nothing more than childlike naivety that has proven to be dangerously ineffective?

Then, I’m reminded that Jesus said, “Unless you turn and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3 CSB).

The Truth About Failure

I think of myself as a failure often. At many points in my life, I’ve felt like I fail at everything that’s important to me. And when I say that, I hear God telling me, “You think you’re God. You really believe that you’re in control of everything.”

I told my therapist today that if I were actually in control of everything, maybe I would be a failure because things still haven’t worked out the way I desire them to. However, considering the fact that I clearly don’t control people and many of life’s circumstances, it might not make logical sense to consider myself a failure when things don’t work out because while some of it may be due to my imperfections, other factors are due to people and situations that I am not God of.

A Just God

Just a few months ago, I thanked my pastor for getting lunch with me and for the role he’s played in my life. I said a few other things, and his response was, “Don’t focus on what others have done but on what you CAN do.”

Similarly, today, someone, clearly prompted by the Holy Spirit, told me the word they can’t shake when hearing about my life story and this year in particular is “unfair”. There are many things about my life that I deem “unfair”. It’s unfair that I find myself burdened by a disability that effects the functionality of both my brain and my body. It’s unfair that I’ve come across many people who are not gracious toward me considering these disabilities. It’s unfair that my mom was diagnosed with cancer. It’s unfair that I’ve been left parentless after cancer took her life. It’s unfair that I was brought up in poverty. It’s unfair, though I’m in a better position now, that that’s influenced my life negatively to this day. It’s unfair that my father chose not to father my siblings and me. It’s unfair that I’ve had to grow up at a much younger age than most simply because I didn’t have much support. I can go on and on and on.

The reality is people may not be fair. Life may not be fair. But God is a loving and just God even when I can’t see how. Call me crazy — heck, I’ll call myself crazy — but I firmly believe that.

The Generations

One of my greatest sources of pain stems from this feeling that my family is cursed. I don’t know what it is, but between my siblings and myself, it seems like we can never get a leg up no matter how many things we do right.

I feel for my brother who is the best cook I’ve ever come across, who has the personality and skills for success but has struggled to find it and has even had to live in his car at one point.

I feel for my sister who works her butt off to raise 5 children, can’t seem to get ahead, and recently had a miscarriage likely due to the stress of some very unfair situations.

I could say much more, but their stories aren’t mine to tell. I just know that these are two of the most capable people I know, and it breaks my heart to see life continually deal them such a bad hand.

On top of that, I feel that this “curse” is out to get me as well. I was talking to a friend of mine recently about a situation I’m going through, and they accidentally replied, “Dang, you have bad luck.” Now trust me, they didn’t mean it to be as harsh as it sounds, but I wish I could say that’s the first time I’ve heard those words. 

I don’t really believe in luck, but it sure seems like the most random, unthinkable things tend to happen to me like running into a deer going 70mph in the middle of a Los Angeles freeway on the busiest workday of the year. (Yes, that actually happened to me.) Like getting stranded in a broken down vehicle that mechanics deem unfixable when you’re 60 miles from home. Like spinning out and having your car tip over when you’re 5 minutes from home. Like hydroplaning on Christmas Eve when you’re on your way to see your family. Like losing access to your work platform, and thus being unable to work, days before the second busiest holiday of the year. Like having your entire friend-group and family torn apart all while mourning the loss of your mother. Like watching the joy of your favorite holiday season get stripped away as you realize there’s only 2 people in your life left to spend it with. Like having to talk a family member out of suicidal ideation when you yourself find nothing worthwhile or pleasant about life. Like having to learn to be proud of yourself for simply getting out of bed because that small act is a feat you couldn’t accomplish without medication, therapy, and persevering through immense pressure.

If I’m honest, I can’t recall many experiences where I’ve been truly happy. And the couple happy moments I can think of are situations I’m not particularly proud to have found myself in.

Unraveling the Truth About Joy

I wasn’t sure how I’d end this post, but I think joy and happiness is a good place to park it. First off, it bothers me when Christians try to make distinctions between the two. There is not a single scripture in the Bible that makes any distinction whatsoever between joy and happiness, and the dictionary doesn’t either. We utilize these unfounded distinctions to ignorantly tell the church untruths about God and our faith. And while I believe these assertions are innocent, they do a lot of damage to people like myself who struggle immensely with joy.

The assertion typically sounds something like this: Happiness is circumstantial and thus fleeting; while joy, however, is founded in Christ and is thus present to all believers who find their hope in him. That sounds nice and deep, but it’s not biblical, and it makes no linguistic sense either. The two words are synonyms. Period. However, there is something ironic about how scripture points to believers being able to find joy or happiness in bleak times.

Here’s What I Understand: 

Most my life, I’ve been unhappy. When a doctor finally diagnosed me with depression in my early twenties, it was like my entire life finally made sense. My mother told me she used to walk past my room when I was a child, and she’d empathically sense the deep feeling of sorrow and immense sadness that would lead her to pray for me. 

I’ve found myself in unfortunate circumstances my entire life, and it’s rare that I find myself in situations where I feel loved and sought after, so I’ve always struggled to find happiness amidst these circumstances. 

I know what it sounds like. It sounds like I’m some ingrate who can’t see that I’m blessed and that life could be so much worse. But trust me, I find gratitude in everything. 

Today, I met someone at church who came simply because he lives in his car, and he wanted a warm place to stay for a few hours. That situation isn’t completely foreign to me. I remember spending hours in a fast food restaurant simply because I had nowhere to go. I remember sleeping in my car after working 12 hour shifts begging God for something to change. 

Now, while it hasn’t been easy, and while I do struggle to pay rent at times, I’ve been blessed to live in a good and safe apartment complex for five-and-a-half years. I’m grateful for that. I have copies of money orders on a bulletin board to remind myself that God always comes through no matter how difficult things may be. And every time I pay rent, my car note, insurance, my phone bill, and anything else that makes me feel like I’m bleeding money, I thank God. I grew up in extreme poverty. But despite some of the hell mentioned in this post, I’ve managed to make it on my own since I moved out at age 18, and it’s been nothing but the grace of God carrying me.

So my understanding is two-fold: Firstly, I believe God is good with no ifs, ands, or buts. He’s a faithful God who defines love, and, therefore, his love is present with me even when I don’t feel it. Secondly, and this is to particularly speak to those who have felt like their pain has been undermined by well-meaning Christians who say you should be joyous if you’re truly grateful and find God to be good at all times, sometimes God’s goodness is hard to see, and happiness, as a byproduct of that guilt-ringing truth, is simply a difficult feat. 

I’ve heard people say things like as long as you’re breathing, you have something to be happy for. But if life seems to be nothing but toil — toil that makes you wish there could be a less morbid alternative to life — then that statement really falls flat on its face.

So, Here’s What I Don’t Understand:

I don’t understand how to be happy. Every time someone tells me it’s possible to find joy despite negative circumstance, that person lives a life that is difficult, yes, but that also easily displays more goodness than sorrow. They always enjoy their life and find life to be objectively pleasant despite its imperfections. 

I have to be honest. That’s never been my life. There’s an old gospel song that says:

I’ve had some good days

I’ve had some hills to climb

I’ve had some weary days

And some sleepless nights

But when I look around

And I think things over

All of my good days

Outweigh my bad days

I won’t complain

– “I Won’t Complain” by Rev. Paul Jones

While I love this song because it speaks of how God’s goodness goes beyond circumstance, it always makes me emotional to feel like I can’t sing that last phrase. My good days most certainly do not outweigh my bad days, and I don’t think I’m the only one. 

Oftentimes, Christians in the western world view life through a very narrow and naive lens that says that once you give your life to Jesus, you get to live the American dream. This really overlooks an objective truth: Job’s life sucked. He lost everything he had, and although his story has a positive ending, he can never get his children back. 

Horatio Spafford, who wrote the famous hymn “It Is Well with My Soul” had a sucky life, similar to Job. As if losing all your money isn’t enough, all four of his children drowned as he was preparing for an evangelistic journey. That’s not fair, and it certainly isn’t the American dream.

Here’s my point: Sometimes life sucks and is objectively bad — more bad than good. In those times, I’ve managed to find peace and solace in the fact that I don’t understand God’s plans, and his love goes beyond my circumstance. Like Spafford, I’ve penned songs that say just that. I’ve yet to, however, find joy despite the tragic essence of my journey.

Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. 
- James 1:2 CSB

The biblical writer and half-brother of Jesus seems to believe that joy is a choice. That’s what I don’t understand. But in 2025, I’m determined to figure it out. I’m determined to choose joy. I don’t know what that means yet, but this is just the beginning of that journey. And I’m letting you in on it as a form of accountability. 

Currently, my life sucks. For the most part, I don’t really have family or friends, and there aren’t many tangible things that I have either. Every time I get a leg up or get close to change, something terrible happens. However, I believe all of this will soon be different. I’m focusing on what I can control, and I’m working toward it being different. But no matter what each step of this journey toward change looks like, my determination is to figure out how to be happy. Because it’s a choice. And it’s a choice that I’ll certainly find.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well, with my soul

– “It Is Well with My Soul” by Horatio Spafford