For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace. | Ecclesiastes 3:1–8
As we have been going through the book of Job, one of the things that has become evident is that human beings are layered. Any attempt to simplify or condense this complexity is dehumanizing. When we take away parts of what it means to be Imago Dei, it actually makes us feel less human.
At times, we are forced into this simplification. Right now, some healthy rhythms have been removed for the sake of safety, and we feel their void. Not being able to meet with people forces us to exist as less than complete. The mental and emotional anguish that we feel is from having to exist as less than we are (a similar case can be made for work).
I have always appreciated the third chapter of Ecclesiastes of lays out a layered view of what it means to be human. While many take this list as a means of determining what is right for this ‘time,’ I also believe that everything on this list is important at ALL times. We do not simply decide that we are in a time of war, so we cast off peace. Instead, in times of war, peace becomes something we need in different ways. I think we could say the same for the rest of this list. This isn’t for us to pick and choose from, it is a complete description of every matter that makes up humanity.
I want to focus on two that can easily be missed in times of distress:
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
When life is serious and there are things to appropriately weep and mourn about, it almost seems wrong to laugh and dance. It does not seem like the time for joy. Yet, I would argue, this is particularly why we need it. In times of stress and grief, joy seems like a luxury. It seems like something that may be possible some other day, when things are normal again. It almost seems superfluous with so many more important things to focus on.
All over the world, you can see the need for joy. From impromptu concerts on balconies in Italy, to dancing police officers in Spain, to Some Good News, we can see the human desire for joy being expressed. It isn’t just a need; it also has the power to shape how we see the world around us. If we spend all of our energy on weeping and mourning, we will begin to believe that life is mainly a difficulty to be survived. Life will become a burden to bear, rather than an experience to be lived. Joy is what makes burdens worth bearing.
As Christians, we have been rescued from the overwhelming burden of grief, giving space for joy. As GK Chesterton says in his book Orthodoxy:
Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial. Melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live … Joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian.
When things get difficult, joy takes effort. In times of struggle, it does not come natural and easy. But it is well worth the effort. For the Christian, it is always there in the blessings that God has made. While all around tells you that this is a time to mourn, be joy.