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Advent Week Four: Joy That Knows Where Home Is
As we arrive at the final week of Advent, the divine gift before us is Joy.
Not the kind of joy that depends on perfect circumstances.
Not the kind that shows up only when everything goes according to plan.
But the kind of joy that quietly hums beneath the surface of life, the joy that knows where home is.
Over the years, I've noticed something about joy in my own life: it's never been tied to my calendar being clear, my inbox being empty, or my plans unfolding exactly the way I imagined. Some of my most joy-filled moments have happened in seasons that
were anything but easy.
Joy has surprised me while sitting quietly with someone I love. It has met me in laughter that came out of nowhere. It has shown up in moments of deep presence, when I wasn't trying to fix anything, prove anything, or perform anything.
Joy, I've learned, doesn't shout. It glows.
Charles Fillmore described it this way: “Joy is the feeling of exhilaration that springs from the consciousness of being one with God.”
I love that definition because it reminds us that joy isn't something we manufacture. It springs forth when we remember who we are and where we are rooted.
There have been times in my life when I could have easily chosen drama over joy. When reacting would have been easier than responding. When staying irritated would have been justified. And yet, I've learned—sometimes the hard way—that joy is a choice I return to again and again.
Not because I ignore reality. But because I choose alignment.
Joy has become a spiritual practice for me. A way of coming back to center.
A way of saying, “This moment does not get to steal my peace.”
The Bible tells us that when the wise ones finally arrived at their destination, “they were overwhelmed with joy” (Matthew 2:10). Not overwhelmed with answers. Not overwhelmed with certainty. But overwhelmed with joy.
That detail matters. Joy didn't come because everything was explained.
Joy came because something was recognized.
That's what Advent has been inviting us to do all along, recognize the light that has been guiding us, recognize the gifts already alive within us, recognize that joy is not waiting for us in the future. It is available now.
As we move closer to Christmas, I invite you to notice where joy is quietly showing up in your life. Not the flashy moments, but the gentle ones. The steady ones. The moments that feel like a deep exhale.
Joy might be present in gratitude. Joy might be present in rest.
Joy might be present in choosing kindness—toward yourself most of all.
And if joy feels distant right now, be gentle with yourself. Joy is patient. It doesn't force its way in. It waits until we're willing to soften and receive.
This week, you might try this simple question: What brings me back to myself?
Often, the answer will lead you straight to joy.
As we complete this Advent journey, may you remember that joy is not fragile, fleeting, or reserved for special occasions. It is part of your divine inheritance—steady, sustaining, and always within reach.
Joy knows where home is. And so do you.
With love and gratitude, Rev. Bobby 
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