HAVE THE JOY, JOY, JOY, JOY, down in my heart . . .” “Where?” “Down in my heart . . .” “Where?” “Down in my heart. I have the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart, down in my heart to stay.”

The primary class bellowed this favorite song, adhering to the belief that louder was better. It was my second week of attending the class—I had finally graduated (with papers) to the primary class during a special Thirteenth Sabbath program—and I was unabashedly tearing my vocal chords in loud, unadulterated joy as I sang along with my classmates. The new lesson book with real stories, the crosswords, the song service—there were so many perks to this class that I felt puffed up, as if I would burst with happiness, contentment, and fulfillment.

As we quickly scratched through the songbook, not really being careful with the pages as we raced to find the next tune, I thought, Here is where I belong. Here is where I’ll stay. Here is where “it” is. This is joy.

It didn’t stay that way. Satan wormed his way in, and somehow things changed. They changed for me. And they changed for the following three people.

Shuffled Out
Mary* and I shuffled along the hallway. It had been several months since our induction into primary, and we were trying to get used to a new teacher. We missed our first primary class instructor, who had been soft-spoken and nice. She and her husband had moved away, and we now had another teacher, a woman close to retirement age with a husky voice and frowning face. We wondered if she ever smiled or laughed like our other teacher. We wondered if she would be as mean as she looked.

We eyed the new lockers and decided it would be great fun to open and close each one. We went down the aisle opening and slamming the doors shut. It was the interlude between Sabbath school and the worship hour, and we just weren’t ready to sit still in the stuffy sanctuary. As we slammed the last three doors the new primary teacher rasped harshly at us. “What are you doing out here?”

“Uh, nothing, just looking at the lockers,” Mary answered.

“And getting some water to drink,” I added.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves; you shouldn’t be touching those. And you’re not in church. Where are your parents? You belong in the sanctuary. Don’t you hear the music? They’ve already started . . .” The teacher went on with her tirade, and Mary and I rolled our eyes. We walked to the fountain, took a sip of cool well water, and walked toward the door into the church. Our teacher continued until Mary, frustration obvious, retorted, “OK, already! Why don’t you stop yelling at us?”

A look of utter horror creased and cracked the teacher’s face. She gasped and with narrowed eyes said to Mary, “How dare you be so rude to your elders! You’ve made Jesus very unhappy—now get inside and pay attention. And you better ask Jesus to forgive you for being rude . . .” We opened the door and walked in, leaving the teacher out in the hall.

With this incident the lines were drawn. Mary would deliberately ignore the instructor, which caused her to be-rate Mary even more arduously. She’d say things like “Jesus doesn’t like little girls who don’t listen and obey” and hang the threat of not going to heaven over Mary and the other children in the class.

I rejected these words. After all, the stories my mom told me bespoke of a God who loved His children no matter what, but who’d get very sad and cry when I did bad things because He loved me so much and wanted me to be good. The Jesus whom my parents talked about, and whom my lessons described, was kind, forgiving, and gentle. He’d hold little lambs and children on His lap, and I couldn’t imagine He’d be that mean . . .

Mary, now that I look back, must have believed some of the teacher’s words, despite her outward rejection. I saw her lose interest—each year becoming less excited about church and religion until, at 14, she stopped coming altogether.

Where was the joy? Where did it go? As angry and hurt as she was, Mary just shuffled out one day and never returned. I heard she dropped out of school, got involved in drugs, went to jail a few times, and had a baby. Mary still refuses to go back to the religion of her youth. Her parents still attend church and pray for her return to God and His church.

No Joy in Cool
Theresa* and her trendy Adventist friends wear jewelry, go dancing at jazz clubs, and talk about the sales at Saks. They treat themselves to the occasional day spa, a bit of wine at dinner, and pretty baubles from the jewelry counters. They talk about their divorces, their kids, their secular careers, and have made a place for themselves in the world and in their church. They tell themselves that they “have a life” as they look with mild contempt and disinterest at the conservative, “old-fashioned” members. They ignore the stares and frowns of some and bask in the accolades from others in the church that are just glad they are still in it and involved. They lead out in song service, fellowship dinners, and Pathfinder camping trips.

Theresa and her clique socialize together whenever they can. They laugh uproariously and look like they are having fun all the time. But as Theresa laughs with the group, there’s a thought that has started to simmer on the back burners of her mind: Theresa wonders how long she can keep it up. Happiness is tiring her out, and she questions herself: What if I stop laughing, stop being happy, stop being a light of joy to those around me? Things are beginning to splinter, and discrepant cracks are showing in her life. With her incongruous lifestyle and a strange new brand of anguish seeding in her head, Theresa queries, Where is the joy?

Raised Right?
Giovanni* pulled on the cuffs of his starched white dress shirt. He straightened his tie. Looking pious, he scanned the room—in challenge? contempt? pride? He was ready for the prayer meeting at church. Tonight the good members of the church he was visiting deemed him in charge of the session, so two hours before the evening worship Giovanni was ready. Hair combed, teeth brushed, he leaned/sat on the back of the sofa, glancing at his watch and seeming to strain to look both peaceful and holy. He just didn’t understand it. How could these people be so callous, so sinful? How could they think that church was just a convenient, fun way to pass a morning once a week? He was committed. He knew what it took to be a good Christian. After all, isn’t that what he was told? Giovanni vaguely remembered a few rebellious thoughts he had when younger, but his strong Christian parents had obliterated those radical, heresy-filled moments, and now he was strong and faithful. Raised good. Raised right.

What Works for Me A few things I do to keep joy in my heart  1. I read the Bible.  2. I take some quiet time: no radio, no TV, no books. I look out a window, take a walk alone . . .  3. I try to understand that Adventists are human; however,  4. I don’t accept intolerable behavior. When possible, I talk it out and “pray it out.”  5. When frustrated or discouraged about a situation or a person, I ask myself: What would Jesus do?  6. I ask questions. Find out why so-and-so is so bellicose. Many people are simply misunderstood.  7. I smile. While not a perfect fix-all, smiles and courtesy go a long way when dealing with a difficult person or situation.  8. I converse with God. He’s a great listener!  9. I realize that Satan is real and using any means necessary to pull me away from God and the joy He offers, and that until we’re in heaven it will be a constant battle. 10. I dedicate. Every day I dedicate my life to serving Him. I believe that His peace can be my peace.

Surely this was joy. He remembered singing the songs in Sabbath school and hearing the wonderful stories of Jesus. But he also remembered the strict lectures, the beatings, the long hours on his knees in prayer as his parents exhorted him to ask for forgiveness for being unworthy. Giovanni believed the sin had been forced out of him (through punishments his parents had frequently doled out) when he was young, and now he expected others to do what he knew was right. Odd, though, the satisfaction at being so godly was so anticlimactic. And the satisfaction derived from lecturing his family was strangely hollow. He wondered: where was the joy? Maybe he needed to study more, pray more, and work harder.

What happened?
We have all known people who resemble Mary, Theresa, and Giovanni in the ways they think and act. And like these three individuals, each and every one of us has chosen a course in life in which we hope to find happiness. But do we really find the joy in life through our religion? Can we find it simply through membership? Or do we have to become a very active member in the church? Or is it a more illusive entity that we can only discover through prayer and devotions? It is up to us—we make our own decisions regarding our happiness, and ultimately our own destinies. But how do we “get there from here”?

It seems that the choices that Mary, Theresa, and Giovanni have made have not given them lasting joy, and in fact, it appears that their decisions have impeded their quest for happiness. Where did they go wrong?

Princess Kimberly in the Pleasant Meadows
When I was about 17 I read somewhere that the name Kimberly meant “princess of pleasant meadows.” Princess, I liked that a lot. It reminded me that I was indeed a princess, with my castle waiting for me in the sky. Christ, our King, died for me (Rom. 5:6), and as a royal daughter of the King, who covers me with His protection when I ask for it, I feel pretty good.

Sometimes sardonically, sometimes affectionately, my father would call me “the Princess” or “Princess Kimberly.” It usually meant that I was being greedy, arrogant, and opinionated and endeavoring to make the world revolve around me. While these are not attributes typically sought after, a good sense of self-esteem went a long way when I was confronted with individuals in church who didn’t share the same opinions I did and were unkind. When someone, especially in church, would unduly criticize me for something I’d done that I had prayerfully examined with God and found to be “legit,” I’d remember that God is the King and with head held high (metaphorically speaking) would cheer myself—Princess Kimberly—on.

Too often the negative words and actions of more mature church members push the younger set to feelings of anger, resentment, bitterness, and fear. What I have tried is to respect and love those who are set against me but never bow out or let the negativity affect my relationship with God. I have not always been successful, but realize that resilience is needed. Satan will employ any methods, including the use of church members, to tear us away from our loving Father.

Youth Speak Out
So what works—how can a person, especially a young person, keep the joy that Jesus has given to us and stay happy in church? How can the disenfranchised reconnect?

Wendy H. Acevedo-Lopez, from Jacksonville, Florida, a junior at Columbia Union College and assistant chaplain, says that she finds joy in “serving others.” “On campus we have opportunities to get involved with ministries that go out and spend time with kids from low-income places, or we spend time getting to know elderly people in nursing homes,” she says. “Just being able to be there, to listen or cheer up people, are ways that I find joy. I feel that these ways are ways that Jesus would serve. So these ministries—and others—give me as an Adventist an opportunity to share my talents in bringing joy to others, which in the process replenishes my joy with God.”

“I find joy in the church because my church finds joy in me,” says Wilona Karimabadi, a young adult from University Park, Maryland. “Simply put, involvement brought me in, and involvement makes me stay. At the church we attend every Sabbath, my husband and I are known in our congregation, we care about our church family, and they care about us. We are bringing up our daughter in it because we see God’s hand working in the lives of the people, our pastor, and our friends. It’s this thing called fellowship that reminds us of why the church is important.

“Regarding the church as an entity, we choose to be a part of it because we feel Christ compels us to. Remem-bering that He is the whole purpose of the church puts everything in perspective, and we are far less likely to get discouraged with fellow members or complicated issues when we think about it like that.”

Jennifer Jill Schwirzer, a young mother, author and songwriter from Putnam, Connecticut, says that she finds joy in friends. “Relationships are by far the most valuable commodity in this world,” Schwirzer relates. “Money, prestige, accomplishment and every other acquirement are as feathers compared to the gold of true friends. After more than two decades in the church, I only have a few, but they bring me more joy than all my other assets combined.”

Nathan Brown, a young adult from Townsville, Australia, pursuing postgraduate work, found joy in an unexpected place. He says, “Recently I attended the funeral of one of the older women of our church. By most measures the occasion was terribly sad, as an older man said goodbye to his wife of more than 40 years. However, in the midst of mourning there was a significant hope as the grieving husband read with unequivocal certainty some of the Bible texts that he and his wife had held dear. It is a rare and privileged opportunity to share such a strange mixture of grief, hope, and joy.

“As a younger person I am often amazed and humbled in observing older members who have spent lifetimes in their commitment to their faith and their church and continue to hold these dear.”

Young adult Dina Karam, from Beirut, Lebanon, asks: “Have you ever missed someone so much that you couldn’t wait to meet again; and when you did, you felt so happy and everything about that person suddenly looked marvelous?

“Sometimes I do get away from church, I do skip some services, but I feel that I have to go back. I miss the song service, the faces of the believers, the fellowship with others, and most important of all, the presence of Jesus.

“I feel happy just to know that my presence might be a blessing for others, and that no matter how wrong things might be going, I am there to worship the Lord and to help His church. There is no way that Satan is going to let us worship God in peace; he is waiting for us to slip and will try his best to see us fail.

Evelyn Wilson says that she cannot count the number of conversations she has had with friends who no longer follow Adventist beliefs. And, according to Wilson, their reasons are “frighteningly logical. Hypocrisy, legalism, back stabbing, and the overall feeling that they are not accepted as they are had disillusioned them. They no longer go to church, they no longer attend our schools and they no longer want to work for an Adventist organization.”

So why does Wilson stay? “This reason is simple,” she says. “I refuse to let the people who are driving away the youth win. I believe that if the youth give up on the church, that it will grow stagnate and die. So what gives me joy in the church? What keeps me inspired? Seeing the few remaining Adventist youth who are on fire for God. Young men and women who are passionate about what they believe in, whether it’s playing their guitars on Sabbath morning or preaching up a storm about things we can relate to—that’s what gives me hope.

“I hope that the new fire and new energy will one day revitalize the church and that with the change of leadership that is bound to happen there will also come a changing of attitudes and a new focus on what really matters—getting people in the church and accepting them no matter what they might look like, wear, or hang out with!” 

“My joy came from doing youth ministry as a young adult,” says Steve Case, director of Piece of the Pie Ministries from California.  “I had the luxury of being hired by the denomination to do ministry on a full time basis right out of college. The young adult drive to make a difference in one's vocation meant that I had a drive for ministry. That served to keep me focused on getting others to come alive spiritually, which seemed to affect me even more than those I was "trying to help."

“As a youth pastor, I've always been part of a multi‑staff church, which means we've been large enough to have resources to do more things and do them well.

“If I had worked in a vocation outside of the church,” Case continues, “I may have been much more susceptible to compare a nearby church to my large college church and then would probably have been disappointed.  But I was too busy getting others turned on to Christ to really sit still and ruminate on my church being boring.”

Down in My Heart
Even though there are many factors that influence us—parents, the media, other church members, friends we still must make our own decisions in life and author our own destinies. And while there are lots of ways that we can strategize to keep joy (prayer, being involved in helping others, etc.), there is still only one source of true joy.

It is amazing how paradoxical life can be—the answer is simple: joy is “down in my heart”; yet with life’s complexities the simple act of having and keeping joy in Jesus doesn’t seem so simple. Family, society, and experiences are just a few factors that can clog our joy receivers—and damage our relationship with Jesus.

The challenge is keeping our personal relationships with Christ as deep, yet as simple, as possible—the more rudimentary a relationship is, the less likely that something will rip it apart. If Eve, for example, had simply said what God had commanded about the tree in Eden, things for us would have been vastly different.

Remember that while God can be reflected in His people, His people are not God. Where is the joy? In the divine Creator of love—joy begins and ends in Him, our Dad, who promises to be with us always. If we keep that love relationship alive and healthy, everything else will fall into place: we will want to be involved in church, we will love other church members, and we will be “the bigger person” when necessary. We will have the joy, joy, joy, joy—down in our hearts. And there it will stay.

*Names have been changed.

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Kimberly Luste Maran is an assistant editor of the Adventist Review.