Joy as Resistance When the World Is on Fire

I don’t know who needs to hear this (I do — it’s me)… but I am really sad.

Not a little let down. Not just kind of disappointed, but I mean truly sad and hurt to see what has become of our country. The world! Because it feels like we’re living inside a horror film we didn’t audition for. The headlines keep spiraling. The systems we were told would hold are wobbling. People are suffering. Truth feels negotiable. And democracy? Whew. If it’s not crumbling, it’s already non-existent.

And in the middle of all this, I keep coming back to one stubborn, holy question:

How do we choose joy in the midst of chaos?

Is that even possible?

Naming What’s Real

Before we talk about joy, let’s tell the truth:

Some days, joy feels offensive.

Like… “Read the room.”
Like… “How can I laugh when the world is burning?”
Like… “Isn’t joy tone deaf right now?”

And listen — I get that. Because there’s a version of “joy” that is tone deaf. The fake, surface-y, spiritual-bypassing kind that refuses to name grief. The kind that slaps a smile over pain and calls it faith. The kind that says, “God is still good” and “God won’t put more on us than we can bear” while IGNORING the fact that people are losing their rights, their safety, their lives.

That is not what I mean.

I’m not talking about denial.
I’m not talking about pretending.
I’m not talking about using worship music as a muzzle.

I’m talking about something deeper.

Joy that co-exists with rage.
Joy that makes space for lament.
Joy that refuses to surrender your spirit.

The Agenda of Despair

Here’s what I know in my bones to be true:

A lot of what we’re watching unfold is designed to exhaust us.

To make us numb.
To make us cynical.
To make us so overwhelmed that we disengage.
To make us believe nothing we do matters.
To make us stop hoping, stop organizing, stop showing up.

Because when people despair, they don’t resist.

They retreat.
They self-protect.
They isolate.
They give up.

And I cannot shake this conviction:

Despair is not just an emotion — it’s a strategy.

So if despair is part of the strategy, then what if joy is part of the resistance?

“The Joy of the Lord Is Your Strength”

Scripture doesn’t say, “The joy of the Lord is your aesthetic.”
It doesn’t say, “The joy of the Lord is your personality.”
It doesn’t say, “The joy of the Lord is your reward after everything gets fixed.”

It says:

“The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

Strength for what, though?

Strength to keep showing up.
Strength to keep loving.
Strength to keep fighting for what is right.
Strength to keep believing that the story is not over.

Joy, in this sense, isn’t a mood or a feeling.

Joy is power.

And if joy is power, then the enemy of your soul (and the systems that profit from your exhaustion) would love for you to lose it.

Joy Isn’t Escapism. It’s Refusal.

Let me say this plainly:

Joy is not escapism when it fuels your endurance.

Rest is not “checking out” when it helps you keep going.
Laughter is not “ignoring reality” when it restores your humanity.
Beauty is not “frivolous” when it keeps you from becoming hard.
Celebration is not “tone-deaf” when it keeps you connected to life.

Joy becomes resistance when it says:

• “You don’t get to steal my humanity.”
• “You don’t get to flatten me into fear.”
• “You don’t get to make me so despairing that I stop moving.”
• “You don’t get to convince me this is all there is.”

Joy looks the chaos in the face and says:

“Not today. Not ANY DAY!”

“This Joy I Have…”

There’s a reason the saints sang that old song…

“This joy I have, the world didn’t give it to me.
And the world can’t take it away.”

Because real joy isn’t dependent on circumstances. Hallelujah!

It’s rooted.

It’s anchored in something deeper than headlines and election cycles and institutional betrayal (looking at YOU TARGET!). It is a holy defiance that says:

Even here… God is still God.
Even now… love is still real.
Even in this… I will not be erased or silened. Or killed.

Oh quite the contrary, I will LIVE AND NOT DIE!

What Choosing Joy Actually Looks Like

Choosing joy doesn’t mean you stop paying attention.
It doesn’t mean you stop grieving.
It doesn’t mean you stop telling the truth.

It means you refuse to let the chaos have the last word over your life.

Here are a few ways “joy as resistance” can become a practice:

1) Joy as Permission to Be Human

You are not a machine built for constant output and constant outrage.

Eat something nourishing.
Drink water.
Go outside.
Take the nap.

Not because you’re weak — but because you’re alive.

2) Joy as Community

Despair isolates. Joy connects.

Call your people.
Laugh with someone who gets it.
Be in spaces where you don’t have to explain your grief or your hope.

Joy is often something we borrow from each other.

3) Joy as Beauty & Art

Put on music.
Go to a museum.
Watch something that makes you belly-laugh.
Make something with your hands.

Beauty reminds your spirit that brutality isn’t the only thing that’s real.

4) Joy as Play

Yes, play.

Not as avoidance — as resistance.

Play reminds you that you were made for more than surviving. It rebuilds your capacity for creativity, flexibility, imagination — and those are not small things. Those are the ingredients of a future.

5) Joy as Spiritual Discipline

Sometimes joy is a decision you make before it becomes a feeling.

A candle lit.
A flight booked.
Date night. Girls night. A whatever you want to do night.

Dream it. Plan it. Do it. REGULARLY. Weekly. Daily.

Joy That Doesn’t Lie

I want to be clear:

Choosing joy does not mean pretending everything is fine.

It means refusing to let devastation turn you into someone you don’t recognize.

It means refusing to become so consumed by the madness that you lose your tenderness.

It means refusing to let fear have full access to your nervous system.

It means choosing something true:

• That your life still matters.
• That love still matters.
• That your joy still matters.
• That your faith is not just about getting through — it’s about staying alive inside.

A Blessing for the Ones Who Are Tired

If you are tired, angry, grieving, scared, and still trying to keep your heart open…

May joy find you — not as performance, but as provision.
May laughter return to you — not as denial, but as medicine.
May you remember that your tenderness is not weakness. It’s your humanity.
May you feel strength rise in you — not because everything got better, but because you did not give up.

And may you choose joy in a way that makes the world nervous.

Because the people who profit from your despair?
They cannot control someone who still knows how to hope.

-Ari