True strength comes not from our own efforts, but from receiving and resting in the deep, sustaining joy that Jesus freely gives to us.
Some weeks feel like a treadmill stuck on high speed. Emails multiply, news headlines weigh heavy, and the to-do list seems to lengthen while our energy shortens. Maybe your smile has been performing overtime while your heart has been running on empty. Friend, you’re not alone. And you’re not left to manufacture cheerfulness. There is a sturdier gladness available—sturdy enough for hospital rooms and boardrooms, mornings that ache and nights that won’t end. It’s the kind of gladness that doesn’t come from us; it comes to us. It’s the Lord’s own joy, and Scripture tells us it does more than make us feel better—it makes us strong.
Tim Keller once wrote, "The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe; yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope." That’s a sentence to sit with. If Christ has placed His love on you, then His joy is available to you. Not a thin veneer of positivity, but heaven’s happiness in your heart, borrowed from the One who conquered the grave. Could it be that the strength you’ve been searching for isn’t hidden in a new strategy but held in a Savior’s smile over you?
God’s people in Nehemiah’s day felt a lot like we feel. They were tired from building, tender from hearing God’s Word, and tears were on their cheeks. Right there, in the middle of their weariness, God gave them a word that still sings over us today. Hear it with fresh ears. Picture the prophet gathering the people, pointing them toward feasting and sharing and sending help to neighbors in need, then pressing this promise into their hands like warm bread on a cold day.
Nehemiah 8:10 (ESV) Then he said to them, "Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy to our Lord. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength."
Do you hear the kindness in that command? Go, eat, drink, share—because the day belongs to the Lord. And in the face of tears, here comes the tender instruction: do not be grieved. Why? Because the joy of the Lord is not fragile. It lifts the load, braces the knees, and puts steel in the soul. Today we’re going to see how His joy becomes our strength, how it sustains our walk when the road is long, and how it directs our decisions so we can choose well in a world of noise.
So take a breath. Set your worries on the windowsill of God’s providence. Picture the King extending His cup, offering a joy that outlasts the storm and outshouts the shame. If you’ve been weary, welcome. If you’ve been weeping, come close. There’s a place at the table for you, and the host is Jesus.
Let’s pray.
Father, we come to You with open hands and hungry hearts. Thank You that Your joy is not scarce and not seasonal. Pour it into every weary place within us. By Your Spirit, lift our eyes to see Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith. Where we are faint, strengthen us. Where we are anxious, steady us. Where our feet have wandered, guide us back. Teach us today to live from Your joy—joy that forgives our past, fills our present, and fuels our obedience. Make our hearts receptive, our minds attentive, and our wills responsive to Your Word. In the strong and gentle name of Jesus we pray, Amen.
God gives joy that works like power in a weary frame. It does not float above real life. It settles into bones and habits and words. It meets us while we work, while we rest, and while we wait.
This joy rises from who God is. He does not run dry. He delights to save and to keep. When He gives joy, He is sharing His own life with us. That is why hearts lift and hands grow steady.
This is why the ancient line in Nehemiah still speaks. When God marks a day as His, He fills it with glad worship, generous tables, and steady hope. That gladness becomes strength for people who feel weak.
God stands at the center of the scene in Nehemiah. The people had listened to Scripture and felt the weight of it. Leaders told them to mark the holy day with a feast and with care for those who had little. That instruction came with a promise of strength.
This shows that the source is not mood or willpower. The source is God’s own pleasure in His people. He smiles over His work. He keeps His promises. He holds His people close. He gives joy as a gift, and the gift carries strength in it.
This matters for us in Christ. Through His cross and rising, we belong to God. The Spirit brings the joy of salvation into our hearts. When shame whispers, that joy says we are received. When fear speaks, that joy says we are held. When we feel thin, that joy fills.
In Nehemiah’s day, celebration was not private. They were told to send portions to homes that had no meal ready. The feast spread across families and streets. The glad day turned into shared care.
That detail teaches us that joy grows when given away. Strength increases when we carry one another. A home that shares bread becomes a shelter. A people who practice kindness become sturdy together.
So we learn to open our hands. We plan to include the neighbor who is quiet. We set aside extra so others can join the table. In this way the word becomes visible. Our strength rises as we share, because God meets us in mercy.
The word in Nehemiah came to a people who still had work ahead. Walls needed watching. Families needed order. Temptations and threats lingered. God’s answer was joy that carries weight.
Joy fuels obedience. It makes long faithfulness possible. It gives patience for slow growth. It helps the tongue bless instead of bite. It steadies the will when old patterns call. It keeps you from quitting when the work is plain and the thrill is gone.
Think of daily acts that feel small. Prayer before dawn. Honest work done well. Quiet repentance when you slip. Forgiveness offered again. These things ask for strength. Joy supplies it. It turns duty into worship and worship into durable life.
That line in Nehemiah also gives light for choices. God called the people to treat a holy day as a celebration. That frames how we think. Holiness and joy belong together. Decisions that lead to communion with God carry strength inside them.
So we start to ask simple questions. Will this keep my heart tender toward God? Will this leave room to thank Him? Will this choice help me share with others? Will it line up with His word read aloud in the congregation? When the answer is yes, strength follows.
This way of living forms habits. We mark His works with songs and meals. We plan generosity into our budget. We confess quickly and receive mercy quickly. We gather with God’s people and let Scripture shape our week. Over time our steps grow firm. Our courage grows quiet and deep. Our peace becomes hard to shake.
Steps last when the heart hears this kind word from the text ... View this full PRO sermon free with PRO
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