Sermon Joy in Troubled Times
Zephaniah 3:14-20 The Message
14-15 So sing, Daughter Zion!
Raise your voices, Israel!
Daughter Jerusalem,
be happy! celebrate!
God has reversed his judgments against you
and sent your enemies off chasing their tails.
From now on, God is Israel’s king,
in charge at the center.
There’s nothing to fear from evil
ever again!
God Is Present Among You
16-17 Jerusalem will be told:
“Don’t be afraid.
Dear Zion,
don’t despair.
Your God is present among you,
a strong Warrior there to save you.
Happy to have you back, he’ll calm you with his love
and delight you with his songs.
Hip Hop Modern Street Bible Version: Zephaniah 3:14-20 “Sing, Daughter Zion; Shout Aloud”
3:14-15
Yo, Zion, it’s time to turn up—sing loud, girl, sing!
Israel, shout it out, let that joy ring.
Daughter Jerusalem, go ahead an break dance,
God flipped the script, gave you a second chance.
He canceled the charges, enemies on the run,
Now God’s the King—yeah, He’s the One.
He’s holding it down in the center of your block,
No more fear, evil’s on lock.
3:16-17
Jerusalem, here’s the word on the street:
“Don’t trip, Zion, don’t admit defeat.
God’s in the mix, a Warrior who saves,
Got your back, lifting you out of the grave.
He’s hyped to have you back in His crew,
Calms your fears, His love renews.
God’s spitting love songs straight to your soul,
A vibe so deep, it makes you whole.”
3:18
It’s party time—festival vibes in the air,
No more shame, no more despair.
Disasters are out, no reproach to bear,
God’s cleaning the slate, showing He cares.
3:19
He’s coming for the oppressors, they’re about to fall,
Lame and outcasts? He’s lifting them all.
Shame gets flipped into worldwide praise,
God’s rewriting stories, sparking better days.
3:20
When that time comes, He’s bringing you home,
Gathering the scattered, you won’t feel alone.
He’ll make you famous, world singing your name,
Restoring your fortunes, removing the shame.
Right in your sight, it’s all gonna unfold—
Signed, sealed, delivered—God’s word is gold.
Let the beat drop, Zion! It’s time to rejoice.
Sermon Joy in Troubled Times Zephaniah 3:14-20
Introduction: The Challenge of Joy in Troubled Times
Church, this third Sunday of Advent—the pink candle Sunday—ushers us into joy. But how do we celebrate joy in a world so gripped by fear and trauma? With January 6, 2025, looming as a tense political flashpoint and Martin Luther King Jr. Day being the day of the Presidents Inauguration following shortly after, some of us are already bracing ourselves for what feels like an oncoming storm. In the face of such uncertainty, how can we authentically rejoice in the coming of Emmanuel, God with us?
Throughout history, African Americans have faced profound trauma and hardship, yet they have emerged as a testament to strength, resilience, and faith. From the horrors of slavery to the struggles of Jim Crow, from the fight for civil rights to enduring systemic inequities, Black communities have navigated the storms of oppression with unwavering determination.
In the face of economic instability and uncertainty following the 2024 elections, African Americans draw strength from this legacy. They know hardship intimately, but they also know how to build, rebuild, and rise above. During the Great Depression, Black communities pooled resources, creating mutual aid societies and churches that became sanctuaries of hope and sustenance. In times of political and social upheaval, the spirit of community, faith, and innovation has carried them forward.
This resilience is not born of ease but of a deep well of survival strategies honed over generations. It is a resilience rooted in faith traditions that declare, “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5).
It is the resilience of those who transformed spirituals into freedom songs and sorrow into art, who took the ashes of despair and molded them into movements of change.
As the nation faces economic stress and potential disaster, African Americans bring this legacy of survival and thriving into the future. They are not afraid. Instead, they stand ready to face what comes with faith, creativity, and an unshakable belief that even in the darkest times, there is light.
The prophet Zephaniah invites us to a radical kind of joy, one that defies despair. His words in Zephaniah 3:14-20 paint a picture of God as both Savior and singer—a God who not only redeems but rejoices over us with gladness and song. And then there’s the Apostle Paul, writing from prison, urging us in Philippians 4:4-7 to “Rejoice in the Lord always.” Always. Not just when life feels easy, but even when we are walking through the valley of the shadow of death.
This Advent, we must reclaim the audacious joy that Zephaniah, Isaiah, and Paul proclaim—the kind of joy that meets us in the midnight hour, as the song sung by Kirk franklyn and the family Joy, Joy, Gods Great Joy reminds us:
“Late in the midnight hour, I talk to my God, and He gives me joy, joy in my soul.”
Point 1: Joy That Conquers Fear
Zephaniah’s call to “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion” and “shout, O Israel!” is not naive. It comes in the aftermath of judgment, in a world still reeling from chaos. Yet the prophet declares, “The LORD has taken away the judgments against you; he has turned away your enemies” (Zephaniah 3:15).
This is a joy rooted not in the absence of fear but in the presence of God. Emmanuel is here. God is in our midst, a warrior who saves and sings. This joy whispers to us, even in moments of political uncertainty or personal heartbreak: Do not fear, O Zion. The Lord, your God, is in your midst (Zephaniah 3:16-17).
Beloved, as we navigate these uncertain times, the weight of history and the challenges of the present call us to examine the foundation of our faith. The fear of what January 6, 2025, might bring—a date that evokes echoes of division, strife, and the fragility of our democracy—can feel overwhelming. Similarly, as we approach Martin Luther King Jr. Day 2025, we find ourselves reflecting on a world still marred by injustice, racism, and inequality. Yet even in the midst of these challenges, we are invited to choose joy—not the fleeting kind of happiness that denies reality, but the deep, soul-saving joy that springs from our trust in God’s enduring faithfulness.
As Wesleyans, we are shaped by a theological legacy that emphasizes grace, community, and the transformative power of faith in action. John Wesley's teachings remind us that faith is not passive; it is lived out through acts of mercy, justice, and love. In the face of fear and uncertainty, we are called to lean into this legacy, asking: How do we as people of faith move forward in a way that reflects the hope and resilience of our ancestors? How do we embrace the joy that comes not from circumstances, but from our confidence in God’s promises?
African Americans, particularly within the Wesleyan tradition, have long demonstrated how faith can sustain a people through the harshest of trials. From the hush harbors of slavery to the prophetic witness of the Civil Rights Movement, faith has been the cornerstone of Black resilience. This legacy is not just about survival; it is about thriving in the face of adversity, about transforming pain into purpose and oppression into opportunity.
The same God who walked with us through the trials of the past is the God who will sustain us in the days ahead. As Wesleyans, we affirm that God's grace is always present—prevenient, justifying, and sanctifying. It is this grace that empowers us to stand firm in the face of fear and to work for justice even when the road is long.
In a world that seeks to rob us of hope, choosing joy is a radical act of faith. This joy is not about ignoring the realities of injustice or minimizing the weight of our struggles. Instead, it is a declaration that our ultimate trust is in God, not in the powers and principalities of this world. It is a joy that says, “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4).
Point 2: Joy in the Wells of Salvation
Isaiah 12 reminds us: “With joy, you will draw water from the wells of salvation” (Isaiah 12:3). This joy is not just emotional; it’s a spiritual resource. Like a well in the desert, it sustains us when all other sources run dry.
In our tradition, singing has always been more than melody and rhythm—it has been an act of survival, a declaration of faith, and a celebration of God's abiding presence. From the spirituals sung in the fields of bondage to the gospel anthems that strengthened us in the face of fire hoses and marches, our songs have carried a joy that is defiant. It is a joy that looks oppression and pain in the face and proclaims, “Sweet, beautiful, soul-saving joy.”
To sing with full joy is to embrace the deep truth that God is with us and walks alongside us, even in the darkest valleys. It is to draw from the well of our ancestors, who, despite unimaginable suffering, found the strength to sing of freedom, hope, and a love that sustains. This is a joy that is not shallow or fleeting—it is rooted in the unwavering faith that God is faithful and that His promises endure.
This Advent, as we prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ, we are called to tap into that sacred tradition. We are invited to sing through our tears, knowing that joy does not ignore pain but transforms it.
Joy is the song of trust in a God who never leaves us or forsakes us.
When we lift our voices to sing, “Joy, joy, God’s great joy—down in my soul,” we do more than utter words.
We declare the truth that Emmanuel—God with us—is here, walking with us in our struggles and leading us toward redemption. We sing with celebration because we know that God’s light is breaking into the darkness.
So, let us sing with passion.
Let our voices rise in full-bodied celebration, not only for ourselves but as a testimony to the world.
Let our joy resound as a proclamation of God’s presence, as a call to hope, and as a defiant declaration that nothing—no oppression, no hardship, no sorrow—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.
This is what it means to sing with joy. It is to sing because we know that God walks with us. It is to sing because our hearts overflow with gratitude. It is to sing because we believe in a future where justice reigns, where tears are wiped away, and where the joy of the Lord is our eternal strength.
Point 3: Joy That Transforms and Heals
In Philippians, Paul writes, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:4, 6). This is a joy that transforms anxiety into peace, fear into faith.
I Rember when I was substituting in the schools, It was just an ordinary afternoon at school, and I was making my way down the hallway to grab some copies from the printer. The soft hum of students’ chatter and the occasional shuffle of papers filled the air. Then, out of nowhere, I heard it—a melody floating from one of the classrooms.
Curious, I slowed my pace and glanced through the open door of Mrs. Harper’s room. She was standing at the front, her back to the door, leading her students in what sounded like a spontaneous moment of song. It wasn’t just any Christmas carol—it was Kirk Franklin’s "Joy, Joy, God’s Great Joy."
I paused, leaning slightly against the wall. Mrs. Harper's voice rang out strong, full of soul, and the students joined in hesitantly at first, then more boldly, as if they couldn’t help but get caught up in the spirit of the song. Their harmonies weren’t perfect, but there was something raw and beautiful in the way they sang, voices rising and falling like waves.
As I stood there, the music carried me somewhere else—back to a story I once heard. It was about a man who had reached the end of his rope, overwhelmed by life and burdened by despair. One cold December evening, as he wandered aimlessly, he heard the sound of a choir singing O come All Ye and O Come Emmanual and other Christmas carols inside a small church. The music stopped him in his tracks, piercing the fog of hopelessness that had consumed him. Drawn by the voices, he stepped into the sanctuary, sat in the back pew, and wept. The power of the music—of the words, the message, the joy—saved his life that night.
I don’t know why that story came to mind in that moment, but it hit me hard. Maybe it was the way Mrs. Harper and her students poured their hearts into that song, or maybe it was the lyrics themselves—"Joy, joy, God’s great joy, down in my soul." It was a reminder that joy isn’t just something we feel when life is easy. It’s something we choose, something that finds us in the darkest moments and refuses to let us go.
The bell rang, startling me out of my thoughts. Mrs. Harper smiled at her students as they began to gather their things, their faces lighter, brighter than before the song. I caught her eye as I passed by, and she gave me a knowing smile, as if she, too, understood the power of what had just happened.
Sometimes, it’s the simplest things—a song, a smile, a moment of connection—that remind us of the joy that God plants deep in our souls. That afternoon, Mrs. Harper’s class reminded me that even in the midst of the chaos and busyness of life, joy is always there, waiting to be sung into being.
For us, as African Americans, Christmas music has always been more than just tradition. It’s been a source of healing, a reminder that even in the darkest nights, the light of Christ is breaking through. Whether it’s the exuberant “Joy to the World” or the soulful refrain of “Joy, joy, God’s great joy,” these songs carry the power to restore hope, heal wounds, and renew our faith.
Closing: Emmanuel, Our Song of Joy
Church, this Advent, let us reclaim our joy. In the face of trauma, fear, and uncertainty, let us sing with the prophet Zephaniah: “Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! The Lord, your God, is in your midst.”
Let us draw from the wells of salvation and proclaim with Isaiah: “Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously!”
And let us heed Paul’s call to rejoice in the Lord always, trusting that God’s peace will guard our hearts and minds.
So this morning, let us rise with joy in our souls.
Let us sing aloud, knowing that Emmanuel is with us. Let us shout, not because the world is perfect, but because the God who saves, heals, and transforms is still in our midst. As we light the pink candle, may it remind us that our joy—like our faith—is unshakable.
“Oh joy, joy in my soul.” Amen.
