Bleary-eyed after an all-night flight from Bangkok, I waited in, okay, I admit it, grumbling misery, for the final leg of my trip. Schipol is not an awful airport, but I was tired and grumpy and had too much time to kill. Eventually, I headed to the Arrivals Lounge because, why not? 

An elderly woman in a bright green sari leaned on the arm of what was obviously her daughter and tottered over to a row of hard plastic chairs. They sat in silence until a large extended family came out of Customs. I watched the old woman’s wizened face light up as a line of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were presented to her.   

Tears pricked my own eyes, to see joy in my weariness and agitation. 

Joy is such a little word, but it’s no small thing. Think of the joy of a clean bill of health after a prolonged illness, the joy of a longed-for pregnancy, the joy of seeing loved ones after a lengthy absence.  

The night before His crucifixion, Jesus gave His disciples a truckload of bad news: betrayal, denial, death. He gave hard commands and confusing instructions that His disciples would spend the rest of their lives working out. But amid all that, He tucked in one astonishing sentence: “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” (John 15:11)  

Joy is complete when it isn’t based on my feelings but is rooted in God’s character. That day at the airport, I had chosen to focus on my weariness and dissatisfaction. It was only the joy of that elderly woman that snapped me out of my funk and reminded me that joy is a choice: Choose to focus on circumstances or choose to focus on the God who controls circumstances.   

When life feels full of pain, joy complete can be the slow burn of certainty that God is not only with me, but for me regardless of my circumstances. Because ultimately, my joy is complete because His joy is in me.