John 15:11

These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full. (John 15:11)

Jesus calls us to lose everything—and calls it the happier life. Why?

Why a Series on Joy

We finished 1 Corinthians last week, and as I shared, we're starting a new series to close out the year: a series on joy, the key to unlocking joy. This series is the culmination of many things I have been pondering and praying about through both highs and lows this year.

A couple of years ago I began listening to and reading an author and pastor I had largely left off with—partly because of preconceived ideas, and partly because of some disagreements I have with him. But something in what he wrote struck a chord, as it was intriguingly similar to things I had personally thought and taught over the last decade. So I downloaded a book of his on my Kindle called Desiring God, by John Piper. As I read it, I was so encouraged; it became a confirmation of things I've taught about how I believe God desires to work in and through us.

A Conference and an Emergency Room

Earlier this year I learned John Piper would be speaking at a conference in Orange County on Desiring God, so Andrea and I signed up and attended at the end of April. We were challenged again to seek for ultimate satisfaction in God and joy regardless of circumstances. How many of you recognize that's difficult?

The conference ended with an hour-long question and answer session. A young man asked: "What do I do when I can count all things loss compared to the surpassing value of knowing Jesus Christ—except for my relationship with my child? In my head I think God is more delightful, but in my heart I delight in my son. I don't know how to have God supersede that." John's answer was challenging but very good. Afterward Andrea leaned over and said, "That was just for me." Parents, especially moms, wrestle with this: how do I not idolize this precious gift God has given me, and yet love it well?

We left Orange County around noon on Saturday, April 30th, very blessed. Five hours later we were in the emergency room at Palomar Hospital, fearful for the life of our daughter Addison, who was 16 months old. At my parents' house, somehow she had gotten open a bottle of orange oil cleaning solution and ingested some. Those first minutes stretched into hours—watching her turn pale, gasp for air, become lethargic. Speeding to the hospital and breaking many laws, I told Andrea to pinch her so she'd come to. A little voice looped in my head: This is a test. This is only a test.

Within a few hours we were transported from Palomar to Children's Hospital, and it became clear that, thankfully, Addison was not critical—serious, but not grave. I kept thinking, "Just get through this week and everything will be fine."

"Can You Find Joy?"

Sunday morning, May 1st, as you were gathering here for worship, I was lying in a chair at Children's Hospital holding Addison on my chest. She was still taking short, gasping breaths. Her heart rate was above 170 all night, her oxygen saturation down around 90%. With tears in my eyes, while Andrea went to find the doctor, I prayed over and over, "Lord, you've got to do something." And it was as if the Lord spoke in a very small voice: Miles, I know this hurts, and I know you're not happy—but can you find joy?

This series was conceived in that hospital room. In John 15, Jesus says these things that His joy might remain in us and our joy might be full. Fullness of joy. In some ways, that is the gospel—a fullness of joy that God offers.

The Essential American Virtue

All of us seek happiness. I believe God created us that way; it is a desire He planted within us. Yet in our culture, even our Christian culture, there is a part of us that thinks seeking happiness is wrong—that there is great virtue in denying it. "Don't seek joy, don't seek happiness, because that's selfish, and we're to deny ourselves." That hangs at the root of many of our hearts, and yet God created us with that desire.

If you could boil American culture down to its essential value, what would you get? On July 4th, 1776, the thirteen states signed the Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Most in our nation would identify that second right—liberty—as the essential American virtue. It's boldly printed on every coin: liberty. And we believe that liberty is a freedom employed to pursue happiness. Two hundred thirty-five years later, our society is zeroed in on happiness, and we believe the greatest happiness is found in freely enjoying whatever brings us pleasure.

A Problem with the Pursuit

But step back and look at 330 million Americans pursuing pleasure, and you'll conclude that what is considered pleasurable is subjective. There is no objective standard; people go down many different paths. The individual becomes the decider of what brings happiness, free to pursue it as long as it doesn't hamper another's pursuit.

Americans have more disposable income and more extra time to devote to the pursuit of happiness than anyone in the world—and yet we've not gotten very good at happiness. Just last month, Reuters reported on a CDC study finding that between 2005 and 2008, antidepressants were the most common drug among people ages 18 to 44. So we have to wonder: have we plotted the wrong path? Could there be a greater happiness, a fuller joy, that is less circumstantial?

Joy and Happiness

In speaking of joy and happiness I don't want to create a false dichotomy. At some level the difference is mere semantics; in English these words are often interchangeable. But I believe a difference exists. Happiness is circumstantially based on what is happening, and therefore it's fleeting. Joy—as Psalm 16:11 speaks of it—is full and enduring.

The word happy is "hap" with a suffix. "Hap" speaks of fortune or a good turn of events—a mishap is a misfortune. So happy means to be full of good fortune because events have turned out well. That definition clarifies the problem. When you're in a hospital room with a loved one and things aren't turning out the way you expected, you're confronted with the reality: "I'm not happy right now." Some of you came in today and you're not happy. We sing joyful songs and you think, "This isn't true to me right now." Why? Because the happenings haven't happened the way you wanted. Good happenings aren't happening all the time, so we try to manufacture them—and none of us is perpetually happy. That's the problem, and it sounds like our nation.

Whom Will You Believe?

The Bible has much to say about happiness, and it's striking what kind of people God calls happy. Consider the Sermon on the Mount:

Blessed are the poor in spirit... blessed are they that mourn... blessed are the meek... blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness... blessed are they that are persecuted... blessed are you when men shall revile and persecute you and shall say all manner of evil against you.

That word blessed is the Greek makarios—"happy." So read it: "Oh, how happy are the poor in spirit; happier are they that mourn; happy are the meek; happy are the hungry and thirsty; happy are the persecuted and reviled." No one in 21st-century American culture believes that. These—poverty of spirit, mourning, meekness, hunger, persecution—are precisely the things we seek to remove from our lives because we conclude they bring unhappiness. But these words are in red; they were spoken by Jesus. Clearly God's perspective on happiness differs from ours. So who is to be believed?

Jesus Calls Us to Loss

Our culture exalts gain as the key to happiness and sees loss as the root of unhappiness. Lose your health, job, house, car, dog—you're unhappy; gain them back and you win a Grammy. But Jesus called us to a life of loss and tells us it's the happier life.

When he had called the people unto him with his disciples also, he said unto them, Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel's, the same shall save it. (Mark 8:34–35)

Notice: Jesus calls us to loss, then makes an appeal to our desire. Denial and loss are not an end in themselves; they land upon something good.

C.S. Lewis put it powerfully in The Weight of Glory:

If you asked twenty good men today what they thought the highest of the virtues was, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you had asked almost any of the great Christians of old, he would have replied, Love... The negative idea of unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point.

We've been ingrained with "J-O-Y: Jesus, Others, You"—as if you'll die and never experience happiness while others do. Lewis continues:

If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

Heavy Sayings

Go a step further:

If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple... So likewise, whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26–27, 33)

These are not fluffy greeting-card verses. You cannot be a follower of Jesus Christ without loss. Paul says the same:

What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea doubtless, I count all things but loss... for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ. (Philippians 3:7–8)

In our culture, someone hearing "he suffered the loss of all things" would say, "That's a sad, unhappy person who needs help." Because our culture says loss equals unhappiness. Yet Jesus offers fullness of joy, and the only way to it is through loss. This is completely opposite. How do we negotiate it?

How Does This Glorify God?

This week I memorized Psalm 67, which opens:

God be merciful unto us, and bless us; and cause his face to shine upon us. (Psalm 67:1)

Doesn't that sound audacious, even selfish? Surely someone would say, "Brother, you can't pray like that." But read the next verse: "That thy way may be known upon earth, thy saving health among all nations." Why ask God to bless us and make His face shine on us? So the world would see and say, "That's what it means to follow God!"

We've bought the philosophy of Kant and the ethicists: the greatest virtue is total self-denial, and—sorry—you won't enjoy it, but Jesus will be glorified and others edified. But how is Jesus glorified by "I serve Jesus, but it really stinks"? That's nowhere in the Bible. That's not Christianity; it's not good news. So either the Beatitudes are wishful thinking and a lie, or there is something greater on the other side of self-denial—a deeper joy than circumstantial happiness.

The Treasure in the Field

I believe the answer begins to unfold in just thirty-seven words:

The kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field. (Matthew 13:44)

A man stubs his toe on something in a field, clears it back, and finds a treasure. He covers it up and joyfully sells everything he has so he can buy the field. The only way this makes sense is if we come to see that what we currently possess is worthy of willing, joyful abandonment for what Christ offers, because it is greater.

That's exactly what Paul says—he counts all earthly gain as rubbish "for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord." The treasure in the field, worth the joyful loss of all things, is Jesus. Jesus is the key to unlocking joy.

Then Why Six More Weeks?

You may ask: if you've told us the key on week one of a seven-week series, what's left? In my observation, there are many Christians who see this truth in the Bible but not in their lives. Their theology is theoretical, not functional; it hasn't become practical. The question for the next six weeks is: how do we actually experience this joy that Jesus opens to us?

There is a real happiness that can be found apart from God; many people find enjoyment in the things of this world. And many of them think forsaking this life to gain Christ means trading earthly happiness for a dour, gloomy existence—because we Christians say things like that. But I will argue that counting all things loss to gain Christ means the apprehension of eternal joy and an earthly joy untouched by the earthly loss all people experience.

Let me be clear: this is not the prosperity gospel. Anyone who says the gospel means never experiencing loss and always being healthy, wealthy, and wise is selling something—books, a program. That's not biblical. The gospel makes clear that we will never have enduring joy until we stumble upon the fact that Jesus is a treasure greater than all the treasures of this life, and that our joy is full only as His joy is in us (John 15:11).

A Question Jesus Did Not Rebuke

In Matthew 19, Jesus shocks His disciples by saying it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. They respond, "Who then can be saved?"—revealing a worldview not far from many Americans': rich people are rich because God loves and blesses them, and their riches will surely usher them into heaven. Jesus turns that upside down. In first-century Israel, as in 21st-century America, people sought goods and riches believing they bring happiness. We are the poster children of happiness—and how's that working?

Then Peter responds:

Behold, we have forsaken all, and followed thee; what shall we have therefore? (Matthew 19:27)

We might expect Jesus to say, "Peter, how selfish! Deny yourself; don't say things like that." But He doesn't. Look at His answer:

Verily I say unto you, That ye which have followed me, in the regeneration when the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life. (Matthew 19:28–29)

You who have forsaken earthly treasure to follow Me will receive it back a hundredfold—and after that, eternal life. He calls us to deny ourselves and forsake everything, then promises something far greater, because the treasure in the field is Jesus. It's better than all this world, and it isn't merely material—moth, rust, and thief destroy material things, and all we see will burn. He calls us to a life of loss with an appeal to our desire to be happy in Him. That is good news.

Laying Hold of It

So you may say, "I see it in the Bible, but not in my life. How does this come about?" That's where we go next week. Paul wrote that he presses on "that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:12). I want to grab hold of what He saved me for.

We enter next week with a presupposition about God: He wants us to walk in His will, and therefore He has revealed how to walk in it. He doesn't hide it from us.

Closing Prayer

Father, You have given us good news—that losing our lives for Your sake and the gospel's brings exceedingly great gain, both now and in eternity. We confess that our culture says something completely different. So either our culture has lied to us, or You have lied. It's that simple. Lord, over the next six weeks, reveal how these things actually play out—how this theoretical theology becomes practical and functional.

Father, I know in a room this size there are some who have not stepped forward as You offer the good news of the gospel. They have been holding onto things in this world they are convinced will bring happiness, and to lay hold of what You are calling them to means the abandonment of those things, because you cannot carry both at once. I respect that struggle—I remember being a fifteen-year-old at camp with that very tension. By Your Spirit, would You minister to hearts and draw to Yourself those You are calling?

If you stand in that place today, holding onto many things, not yet convinced that exceeding gain and joy are found in Christ, I implore you by the words of the Lord: let those things go and follow Jesus. Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father but by me." He has opened the door for you to come. Don't leave without talking with me or one of the pastors and elders.

Father, minister to hearts. We thank You that You are most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in You. Glorify Yourself in us, we pray in Jesus' name. Amen.