An insight from Curt Thompson on that elusive thing.
By Christina Brown
While reading Curt Thompson’s book The Soul of Shame the other day, I came across a passage that offers a unique exposition of joy that I hadn’t encountered before.
It’s this: At its heart, joy is deeply communal.
C.S. Lewis, in his sermon titled "The Weight of Glory," writes of how "glory" for humans is hearing that we are pleasing to the One whose pleasure we most long to fulfill. It is no more realized than when we hear our Master say, "Well done!" ... the delight of God in trinitarian fellowship is nothing if not an invitation that he longs for us to join. The defining relational motif for humankind is not that we need to work as hard as we can, or at least harder than we are. It is not to do our best or guarantee that our children will have a better life than we had. It is not about being right or the acquisition of power….
No - rather, we were created for joy. Not a weak and watery concept of joy that merely dilutes our sadness and pain. Rather it is the hard deck on which all of life finds its legs, a byproduct of deeply connected relationships in which each member is consummately known.
Curt Thompson, MD, "The Soul of Shame"[1] (emphasis mine)
Reflection
This link between joy and being known struck a chord with me.
We were made for joy; for intimate companionship with God. We disowned that privilege in Eden long ago, yet in the great mystery that is Love enfleshed, Christ is actively restoring this privilege to us, His Bride. And He asks for our partnership in the process.
Thompson suggests, I think rightly, that part of how we answer this call is to participate in community with each other. We make a risky choice: to welcome the love of others into our everyday lives, and offer it back—fully known and fully exposed. Through this reciprocity, God reveals foretastes of what true intimacy will look like at the final unveiling of His kingdom, come.
The desire for joy is built into our DNA, and we crave it—relational wholeness and belonging. It feels elusive, and we can be tempted to think it’s impossible to reach, tempted to give up. Yet if we neglect our fellowship with one another, we are, in a way, repeating the Edenic betrayal and thus resisting the invitation to recreate a foundation of joy upon which we can all stand.
Community is hard, and it is no secret that those who engage with one another will inevitably both inflict and receive wounds. But within the circles of true, honest fellowship, these relationships can bring us the sustenance we hunger for. Letting ourselves know and be known allows the heart of Jesus to infiltrate our loneliness and draw us back into relational fullness with Him—Joy incarnate—once again.
Christine Dykstra works as a writer and editor with a special interest in writing shaped by a theological lens. Her work has appeared in Foreshadow and The Windhover.