“Though the fig tree may not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines; though the labor of the olive may fail and the fields yield no food; though the flock may be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.” Habakkuk 3:17–18
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN JOY AND HAPPINESS
There is a sacred distinction woven throughout Scripture, one we often confuse but desperately need to understand. There are moments when happiness rises naturally because life hands us something worth celebrating: the accepted job offer, the answered prayer, the breakthrough we have waited for. But joy… joy is different. Joy is the melody the soul sings when nothing on the outside has changed. Joy is the gleam that rises on the face when circumstances refuse to give us anything to smile about. Joy is not emotional reaction; it is spiritual revelation.
Happiness is tied to happenings. Joy is tied to God.
And because God does not change (Malachi 3:6; Hebrews 13:8), joy does not evaporate in the heat of adversity. This is why Scripture speaks of joy not as a feeling to be chased, but as a strength to be carried. The psalmist declared, “You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound” (Psalm 4:7). Joy is not the result of abundance; it is the result of God’s nearness.
In Jewish tradition, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks once wrote, “Joy does not come from what we own but from what we are called to.” His words echo the biblical reality that joy flows not from changing circumstances, but from the unchanging God who calls, sustains, and keeps us. Joy is rooted in the eternal, not the external.
THE JOY THAT SAT WITH ME IN AN EMPTY ROOM
Years ago, I found myself sitting on the floor of a completely empty apartment: no furniture, no electricity, no food in the refrigerator, no bed cushion except for the worn carpet underneath me. It was evening, and as the sun was fading in the distance and the darkness was creeping into the room, all I could hear and see was silence… and the silence was almost deafening. Nothing about my circumstances suggested celebration. Nothing hinted at breakthrough or relief. And yet, in that stillness, something completely unexpected happened. I felt joy.
A feeling of peace rose in my chest and thoughts of gratitude filled my thoughts. I remembered the park bench, the public bathroom wash-offs, the generosity of strangers, and the side-eyes of other college kids looking at the black kid who is carrying his luggage with him every day to the student center. I thought of those days when I didn’t have an apartment, or a rug, or even a wall to stare at, and I just felt a slow, growing sense of joy. It wasn’t a rush of emotion, or a spark of optimism, but a deep, holy awareness that I had not been forgotten, and was not sitting on that floor alone. A quiet realization wrapped itself around me: “This space, empty as it is, is still shelter. This floor, hard as it feels, is still safety. This moment, painful as it seems, is still sacred and precious in the sight of God.”
And right there, on that cold concrete floor, beneath a roof that separated me from the night sky, joy…uninvited and unexplainable… entered the room. Not happiness, because nothing in my situation had changed. No bills were paid. No job had come through. No miracle had knocked on the door. But joy came anyway. Joy spoke to my heart until faith welled in me like a burning fire. Joy reminded me that God always redeems our stories and uses them for his glory. This was not for nothing. This moment was holy because God was in it. I had no idea that what I was feeling on that floor, was would become the basis of a ministry to countless other people years later, who found themselves sitting on a floor just like that one.
I remember allowing thoughts of surrender and gratitude to flood my heart all at once, and for reasons I still can’t fully articulate, I smiled. A real smile. A worshipful smile. Because joy was not responding to my environment, joy was responding to my God.
It was then I understood, maybe for the first time, what the prophet Habakkuk meant when he declared, “Though the fig tree may not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines; though the labor of the olive may fail and the fields yield no food; though the flock may be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.” (Habakkuk 3:17–18). Joy doesn’t wait for beautiful red blooms in the springtime or cozy white beaches in the summertime. Joy makes its presence known in the blistering cold wind of the wintertime. Joy doesn’t need anything grand to happen for it to fill your heart with gladness.
Much later, I contrasted that moment with the scene in The Pursuit of Happyness when Chris Gardner (played by Will Smith) receives his dream job that changes everything. He steps into a crowded street, overwhelmed by relief, disbelief, and pride. His joy looks like trembling hands, quiet shouts, and tears he doesn’t want anyone to see. And it is beautiful. A man tasting the reward of his own labor and endurance. The only difference was, his joy is tied to the moment of hope being fulfilled… to the dream realized… to the “breakthrough” finally “breaking through”.
Mine wasn’t. Mine came with no evidence at all. Chris Gardner was happy because the door opened. I was joyful because God was in the room, even when every door remained shut. And that is the difference Scripture insists we understand. James 1:2-3 teaches us to “…count it all joy when we fall into divers (various) temptations and trials”. Don’t consider it joyous when the test is over, consider it joyous when the test begins; the moment you ‘fall into’ test and trials. Psalms 5:11 openly declares that “…all those who put their trust in God will rejoice”. We rejoice not because things have changed, we rejoice because God is trustworthy. The Apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 6:10, refused to allow us to forget that we are “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing…”. What a paradoxical idea: sorrowing and rejoicing at the same time.
Joy shows up when there is no good news.
Joy stands in the street before the job is offered.
Joy sits in an empty apartment before a door opens.
Joy walks into the furnace with the three Hebrew boys (Daniel 3:24–25).
Joy sings with Paul and Silas before the prison doors open (Acts 16:25–26).
Joy strengthens Jesus as He endures the Cross (Hebrews 12:2).
All of these passages are written to point us to this truth: Happiness celebrates what is happening. Joy celebrates who God is. Happiness depends on a “what”, Joy depends on a “who”. This is why, when you are sitting on a concrete floor with nothing but faith to hold onto, joy can turn that floor into holy ground.
Don’t misunderstand me, I fully believe happiness can certainly be healthy, but I also believe that joy is more than healthy; joy is holy.
THE THEOLOGY OF JOY: A DEEPER ROOTEDNESS
Scripture consistently locates joy not in events but in God’s proximity:
- “In Your presence is fullness of joy.”… Psalm 16:11
- “My heart is glad… for You will not abandon me.”… Psalm 16:9–10
- “I will greatly rejoice in the LORD; my soul shall be joyful in my God.”… Isaiah 61:10
- “These things have I spoken to you that My joy may be in you.”… John 15:11
- “Rejoice in the Lord always.” …Philippians 4:4
Joy becomes the internal proof that the heart has learned a sacred truth: God is with me, even here. As Howard Thurman observed, “There must be always remaining in every life some place for the singing of angels,” reminding us that when the awareness of God’s presence breaks into our darkness, something deep within us begins to steady and sing again. Scripture affirms this when it declares, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). The character of God Himself becomes the character of our joy, if He is trustworthy, then joy becomes possible; if He is good, then joy becomes reasonable; if He is near, then joy becomes inevitable. Joy is not the denial of sorrow but the refusal to let sorrow win. It is not the escape from pain but the endurance that carries us through it. It is not contingent on what changes around us but anchored in the One who cannot change.
And this is why joy belongs to the believer sitting in an empty apartment just as much as it belongs to the man receiving his dream job on a sunlit street. Because joy is not the trophy given at the finish line; it is the Promise given in the middle of the race.
PRAYER
Father, You are the God who meets me in every season; whether my hands are full or empty, whether my heart is whole or breaking. Teach me the sacred art of joy, the kind that does not wait for circumstances to shift, but rises simply because You are near. Shape my thoughts until they align with Your truth. Anchor my emotions in Your unchanging character. Let the awareness of Your presence settle my spirit and silence my fears. Lord, make me a person who rejoices not because life is predictable, but because You are faithful. Let joy take root so deeply in me that sorrow cannot uproot it and uncertainty cannot diminish it. Be my song in silence, my strength in weakness, my light in darkness, and my confidence in the unknown. In Jesus’ name, amen.
SPIRITUAL DISCIPLINE
Today, practice the discipline of anchored reflection , intentionally grounding your joy not in what is happening, but in who God is. Set aside time to walk yourself gently through the following questions. Do not rush. Let your soul answer honestly, and allow Scripture to reshape whatever surfaces.
- What circumstance am I waiting on before I feel permission to rejoice?
Name it. Hold it before God. Then ask: Is my joy tethered to this, or to Him?
- Where have I mistaken happiness for joy in this season?
Identify the places where you’ve expected life to furnish the feelings only God can give.
- What truth about God must I return to today in order to re-anchor my joy?
Consider His faithfulness, His presence, His sovereignty, or His goodness, whichever your heart has forgotten most.
- What Scripture will I allow to become the “root” of my joy today?
Choose one verse and sit with it until it sinks into the soil of your soul.
Published on Jan 30 @ 12:48 AM EDT
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