Choose joy, they say. It’s on shirts, bumper stickers, wall hangings, and tattoos. I’ve even managed to muster it up before too. Take a deep breath, a sip of Dr. Pepper 10, whisper a prayer, and choose joy.

That isn’t happening now though. The joy isn’t just hard to find, I sometimes wonder if it even exists anymore. Choose joy. An honest option? Or just another cliché.

• Tomorrow is a new day.
• Joy comes in the morning.
• You can’t have the rainbow without the rain.
• The sun will come out tomorrow.

The losses of this year scream over me. And I don’t want to be bullied into joy. I won’t be cliched into it. Not only do I not think I can let go of the hurt and ache, I don’t think I even want to. In truth, the more I look at Advent, the more I realize that sorrow and loss isn’t exactly in opposition to it. The world shows the Christmas story as sweet little nativity scenes. Clean barn animals, three happy rich guys with gifts, and the reminder that “joy can even be found in a stable”! But look again and I also see that born into that night was a God who would now have to suffer, lose everything, feel abandoned, experience anger, be rejected, and even cry out in anguish…wondering where God had gone. There’s an Advent I can relate to.

Sure, a cliché can be right. The sun will come out tomorrow. But that doesn’t always mean there’s comfort or help in it. Sometimes I need to sit on the floor of my closet at 2 am and weep until my body aches, my eyes are raw, and as if the sun may not ever rise again.

I can celebrate a Messiah sent but not without also absorbing in pain for what it meant for that little baby and what would come. My soul just wants to curl up and weep. I believe the Emmanuel…the God With Us…knows exactly how I feel. And that’s a place I can find a mediocre of comfort this season. Not from choosing joy….from choosing mourning.