I Want Someone Else's Happiness
And the way to get it.
I want to be happy.
I’m an Indian-American, born in Kerala, raised in Oklahoma, and pastor of a church in New York City. But we’re not all that different, really. Because even though we’ve never met, and you may not know where Kerala is on a map, I know this much about you: I know you want to be happy too.
And these days, I’m discovering the depths of my discontent. Call it middle age. Call it a midlife crisis. But I know you’ve felt it, even if you haven’t purchased ear hair trimmers or googled “beard styles to offset baldness” yet.
If social media has accomplished anything, it has done a masterful job of reminding us that we could be happier. Watching the happiness of others can evoke a longing to share their joy. Selfies of free-soloing El Capitan or swimming with penguins in Patagonia call out to us, “You can be this happy too.” And this is partly true. We could be happier. We could have the happiness of another. We can have the happiness of God.
Consider this astonishing invitation from Jesus:
“I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” (John 15:11 NIV)
Jesus wants us to have his joy, a joy that is complete, the very joy of God. I didn’t think that was possible let alone available to us. The happiness of others, who may secretly be just as discontented as us, doesn’t seem as enticing when we can have the joy of God. And this is no flippant joy.
Jesus had no beauty for people to desire him. He was a man of suffering and familiar with pain. He grew up in a small town where the expectations for the locals were low. People assumed he was an illegitimate child who was cursed by God, held him in low esteem, and hid their faces from him.1
His joy must have been secure. It didn’t waver according to circumstances, wasn’t bound to ministry outcomes, and wasn’t vulnerable to the acceptance and rejection of others. And best of all, it is accessible to us.
But at this point we are unsure. People don’t find joy in the same things. I find great joy when a 17 year old high school student-athlete announces his decision to play football for the University of Oklahoma. You could probably care less. And you’d wonder why his decision to play for another school would cause me to emotionally eat a pint of ice cream. None of us enjoy the same things. Jesus wants us to have his joy, but how do we know if what makes Jesus happy would make us happy too?
It’s because Jesus experiences something that every human being craves — to be seen, known, and deeply loved by someone of great worth.
“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” (John 15:9-11 NIV)
The Father’s eternal, secure, and unbreakable love for Jesus was the source of his joy. And for the sake of our happiness, he tells us that we are loved, not less, but with the very intensity of this inter-trinitarian love. What’s more remarkable is that he said this to his disciples knowing they would desert him and deny knowing him. In other words, even while seeing and knowing the worst about us, we are loved by someone of inestimable worth, with the same love that he himself enjoys — eternal, secure, unbreakable.
But if his happiness is going to be ours, we must believe that he loves us this intensely and position ourselves to enjoy his love. That’s why he tells us to keep his commands. It’s not a catch, as if his love may change depending on our behavior. He doesn’t tells us, “If you don’t keep my commands, then my love won’t remain.” He tells us, “If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love.” (emphasis mine). What is subject to change is not his love but our location and enjoyment of it. Obedience is a way to abide, rest, and make our home in his love. For what he commands, he commands for our sake, out of love for us.2
An example of this can be seen in the story of the rich young ruler.3 Jesus, with love in his eyes, commanded the rich young ruler to sell all his possessions, give to the poor, and follow him. When the young man walked away sadly, the intensity of Jesus’s love for him was not diminished at all. However, in walking away, the young man chose to abide in other loves — his wealth, security, and the comforts of this world. Our disobedience, then, is a preference for other loves. It is the deliberate decision to make our home outside of the love and goodness of Jesus’ commands.
Jesus obeyed the Father, and therefore, chose to abide in his love. In every decision, even when facing the cross, he intentionally chose to rest in his Father’s love expressed in his commands. And for the sake of our joy, he calls us to do the same.
This means that the next time discontent arises, and we are tempted to have the happiness of another, we can pray for the joy of Jesus. And by the power of God’s Spirit, we can choose to believe that we are seen, known, and loved with an eternal, secure, and unbreakable love that can never be merited, but only mined in our “yes” to him. For we really can be happier. We can have the happiness of another. We can have the happiness of God.
Isaiah 53, John 8:19, 41, John 1:46.
We struggle to view God’s commands, and the boundaries he gives us, as expressions of his love. A child will often and easily view her parents’ rules as an expression of authority. But a sign of maturity and wisdom is when that same child, now an adult, reflects on those rules and cannot help but see them as an expression of her parents’ love for her.
Mark 10:17-27