Expectant Joy

Pursue Joy. I love this phrase. The words are splashed across the homepage of my church’s website and sum up a key conviction of our fellowship: true joy is found in Christ alone. As we pursue Christ, we pursue joy. Not only do I love the message, but I am convinced of its truth, affirming it with a hearty, “Yes!” and “Amen!” I long for joy that comes from a relationship with Jesus. Yet daily there are barriers hindering me from God’s abundant joy, many stemming from my own heart. One such obstacle, particularly destructive to the joy-filled life, came to the surface earlier this year. God used a small event that morphed into world news to get my attention.

On February 8, 2023, a regularly scheduled chapel gathering of college students at Asbury University in the United States turned into a spontaneous multi-week revival. It brought thousands of people to the area to worship and seek God and since has become known as the Asbury Outpouring. The event received much press, filling news feeds and social media platforms. There was a buzz in the air, and many Christians expressed excitement and hope as they read reports and watched video streams. 

I have a confession to make. I was not counted among these enthusiastic observers. Instead, I was skeptical. 

During the first day or two, I watched a few videos, read some articles, and largely went on about my business. At best I was apathetic, at worst, I seriously doubted the legitimacy of the movement. The event continued past the first two days, I checked the news once or twice, but again, came away unfazed… unimpressed. Until the weekend rolled around, that is; God was about to disrupt my indifference.

"YOU DON'T BELONG HERE."

On Saturday night, I had a vivid dream. I found myself in the middle of an auditorium with a large stage and wooden seats. A worship band played, and I sang along with the crowd. From the far end of the room, something like a giant wave began rolling over the people, starting at the stage and making its way across the entire room. I watched curiously as the wave billowed above us and as it passed overhead, an overwhelming joy consumed me, more joy than I’ve ever known before. Worshipping with abandon, I looked over at the young lady on my right, a stranger to me, and knew by the expression on her face that she also was experiencing this profound moment. We grabbed one another’s shoulders, eyes locking, faces beaming, just wanting to share the moment with someone. But then, something dark and insidious moved into the room. 

Looking to my left, I saw a hooded figure slowly moving toward me. Fear immediately replaced the joy. As the figure slinked closer, panic began growing. It creeped nearer and nearer until it stood right beside me. At this point, overcome with horror, I began shrieking at the figure repeatedly, “You don’t belong here!” Then I woke. 

At first, I lay in bed still consumed with terror, the intense and irrational type that happens when you are roused from a nightmare. But then, I remembered the joy. Almost immediately the fear subsided, and in its place rushed in the same glorious and intense feeling I had experienced in the dream. I lay there worshipping, not wanting to move for fear of disrupting the moment. Next came captivating prayer, a kind of prayer I can only attribute to the Holy Spirit. Ironically, the skeptic found herself awake in the middle of the night, fervently praying for revival. Eventually, the intensity of it all dissipated, and at some point, I drifted back to sleep.

The next morning, during my quiet time with the Lord, I contemplated the revival at Asbury University and was deeply convicted by my previous pessimism. As I prayed and processed the dream, my thoughts kept returning to the dark hooded figure. Clearly, it represented the enemy of our souls. Yet, there seemed to be more. In the dream, I kept screaming, “You don’t belong here!” Then it came to me. The figure symbolized something specific, something the enemy uses to steal my joy in Christ and which has no place in the heart of a Jesus follower: unbelief. 

DOUBTING THOMAS 

In John 20, we read the story of Jesus just after He had risen from the dead. He began appearing to His disciples, first to Mary Magdalene, then to a group gathered at a house one evening. The disciple Thomas was not there on that occasion, and when the others relayed the story, he replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (John 20:25).

I must admit, I relate to Thomas. His response seems fair and reasonable to me. I think in his shoes, I would want to see this risen Jesus for myself. However, we know the story; a week later Jesus appeared again, this time with Thomas present. Jesus graciously allowed him to touch His hands and sides, then He said to him, “Stop doubting and believe” (John 20:27). 

Have I become a doubting Thomas? Much has happened in the name of Christianity over the course of history that has grossly misrepresented the character of Christ. Even within Christian communities in my own sphere, I have witnessed things that have surely grieved the Lord. But I must ask myself: Has this left me so jaded I have stopped believing in God doing generous and extraordinary things in the world? Can His Spirit not send revival to a college campus?

Jesus told His followers to be wise and discerning, “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves” (Matt. 7:15). We are called to test things. But at the same time, we should anticipate and celebrate the great things God will do among us. On the day of Pentecost, Peter preached to the crowd and 3,000 were added to the church in one day (Acts 2:41). God is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Heb. 13:6). Can He not still pour out His spirit on a crowd, prompting worship, prayer, and repentance?

While I was not present at the Asbury Outpouring, I am now prone to believe it was a work of God’s gracious goodness. What’s more, I have come away with a conviction. I do not want to be a cynical Christian. Wise? Yes. Skeptical and jaded? God forbid. Instead, I want to be hopeful and expectant. I want abundant joy, not unbelief. Let the words of Paul be my reality: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 15:13, emphasis added). Amen.