Alastair Sterne

4 min read ⭑

How We Embody Joy

I once had the privilege of spending six weeks in New York for some training with a handful of other people. Mark, our facilitator, was a rather stoic and reserved person. Think of the emotional aloofness of Clark Kent concealing that he is Superman, and you might be close to a picture of Mark. There is a memory about Mark that I love. At the end of the training, the cohort encircled and hugged him. Mark resisted yet welcomed the embrace. It was gloriously awkward.

A few years later, Mark and I connected in Vancouver. My research on joy came up. After some discussion, he said, “Please don’t overlook the quietly joyful. I feel joy often. Most people just don’t see it.” It turns out the superpower he concealed was his joy. Oh, Mark.

I have benefited so much from his word of caution.

When we cultivate joy, she blooms differently in each person. Joy looks different in Mark than it did in the bishop and social activist Desmond Tutu, in whom joy lit up like fireworks through his wide smile and infectious laugh. Joy can be quiet like Mark — a subtle joy — or exuberant like Tutu — an obvious joy. I appreciate that Gerald Arbuckle describes joy as “laughter of the heart.” I once read a book about design that said good conceptual design elicits “a smile in the mind.” So whether or not we can see someone’s joy, the authentic mark of joy is how she rises like laughter in our hearts or a smile in the mind.

The invitation of joy is not to become someone else or to emulate a personality type that goes against who you are. You can be an exuberant extrovert or an intellectual introvert or some other iteration of personality. When joy speaks in her distinct voice, she will be heard through your life with your timbre.

I also want to name how our cultural and ethnic experiences shape joy. While I’ve tried to draw from a breadth of research and experiences, I undeniably express joy in ways shaped by my culture and upbringing. Some cultures embody joy in quieter, more reserved ways, whereas other cultures embody joy in expressive, more exuberant ways. For instance, my friend Jackee, a first-generation Kenyan Canadian immigrant, describes her experience with joy in Kenyan culture as intrinsic and expressive, ingrained in people from day one: joy is simply a way of being, everyone has joy inside them, and the expectation is to give joy to others. Smiles, laughter, music, dancing and celebration are commonplace, even in tough times. However, in North America, Jackee often feels compelled to moderate expressions of Black joy to avoid misunderstanding, especially at solemn occasions where joy isn’t expressed and welcomed in the same manner. So, as you think about how you experience joy, pay attention to your place in the world. How have your culture and upbringing shaped your experience and the story you have about joy?

What Is the Risk in Capturing Joy?

Flannery O’Connor understood the risk of the hunt. When it comes to joy, we become the hunted because joy doesn’t play by the rules. Even if you were to catch her, joy will not be domesticated.

As Julia and I tended our little garden plot among the carrots, tomatoes and everything else, we planted spearmint because spearmint is delicious, especially in tea. Soon, a little spearmint shrub popped up in the right-hand corner of our garden. And it was good. The seed bloomed into a small shrub, which kept growing, and growing, and growing. And it was very good. Soon the spearmint roots grew beneath the entire bed, and branches popped up in the middle of the garden and then at the opposite end from where we first planted it. The spearmint spread outside the bed and into the ground around the garden bed. It even made its way to the neighboring plots! And it was a little too much good.

We learned that planting spearmint is no rookie sport. It doesn’t take much investigation to discover that you don’t plant spearmint in a garden bed. It is invasive. It needs to be self-contained.

When we cultivate joy, we are playing with an invasive seed. But unlike spearmint, joy is not meant to be self-contained — kept under our control. We think we are gardening, but joy is wrestling. She pins us. Even if we are down for the count, she stirs our longing for her to stay. She enlivens us. We want to hold on to her, but try as we may, we can’t find a grip because she is a seed again, already taking root. Joy springs up in more areas of our lives than we anticipated and spreads from us into our neighbors’ garden beds. And given enough time — say, eternity — joy will take root everywhere and fully bloom. Cultivate joy, if you dare.

Alastair Sterne is a creative director turned pastor. He serves as the associate pastor at Coastline Church in Victoria, British Columbia. He previously partnered with Redeemer City to City and founded St. Peter’s Fireside, a creative liturgical church in Vancouver. He is the author of Rhythms for Life: Spiritual Practices for Who God Made You to Be, and Longing for Joy: An Invitation into the Goodness and Beauty of Life. Alastair and his wife, Julia, write and podcast together at ordinarymatters.org and collect joy with their daughters.

Taken from “Longing for Joy” by Alastair Sterne. Copyright © 2024. Used with permission of InterVarsity Press.

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