OCT 28 | The Spiritual Discipline of Celebration: Why Joy Is an Act of Worship and Resistance
When you think about spiritual disciplines, what immediately comes to mind? For most Christians, it's the heavy-hitting practices—prayer, fasting, Bible study, silence, and solitude. All the serious, somber disciplines that feel appropriately "spiritual." But here's something that might surprise you: throwing a party, feasting with friends, and celebrating life with abandon is just as much a spiritual discipline as any fast or silent retreat.
In fact, celebration might be the most neglected spiritual discipline in modern Christianity. And its absence is costing us more than we realize.
Why Christianity Became So Serious
Somewhere along the journey of church history, we turned the Christian faith into a grim endurance contest. Yes, Scripture speaks of suffering, discipline, and dying to self—all profoundly true and necessary aspects of following Christ. But we've allowed these themes to dominate our understanding of spirituality to the point where joy, laughter, and celebration feel almost... guilty. Indulgent. Unspiritual.
This is a tragedy.
We've created a version of Christianity that looks more like Stoicism with a Jesus sticker than the abundant life Christ promised. We've forgotten that celebration isn't just permitted—it's commanded. It's woven into the very fabric of biblical faith from Genesis to Revelation.
Jesus's First Miracle: A Celebration Manifesto
Let's start with the often-overlooked significance of Jesus's first miracle. John's Gospel records that Jesus's inaugural sign—His coming-out party as the Messiah—wasn't healing a sick person or raising someone from the dead. It was making wine. At a wedding. That had already been going on for days.
The wedding at Cana had run out of wine, which would have been a social disaster for the host family. And Jesus didn't just make a little more wine to save face. He made between 120 and 180 gallons of the finest quality wine—far more than anyone needed.
Think about the theological statement embedded in this miracle. Jesus's first public act was facilitating joy. He ensured a celebration could continue. He prioritized the happiness of wedding guests. This wasn't an accident or a random choice—it was a declaration about the nature of the kingdom of God.
Old Testament Feasting: God's Idea, Not Ours
Before we dismiss celebration as a New Testament innovation or a cultural accommodation, we need to understand that God Himself designed celebration into the rhythm of Old Testament life. The Jewish calendar wasn't just marked by solemn fast days—it was punctuated by commanded festivals.
The Feast of Tabernacles, Passover, and the Feast of Weeks weren't optional religious services. They were week-long parties. Entire communities would stop regular work, gather together, feast, dance, make music, and celebrate what God had done. These weren't exceptions to spiritual life—they were essential components of worship.
God literally commanded His people to celebrate. To feast. To take time away from productivity and simply enjoy His gifts and His presence.
In Nehemiah 8:10, we find this remarkable statement: "The joy of the LORD is your strength." Not your discipline. Not your determination. Not your theological correctness. Your joy. The Hebrew word used here is chedvah—a gladness that gives you power and resilience. Joy isn't a nice bonus for easy seasons; it's the fuel that sustains you through difficulty.
Celebration as Countercultural Resistance
Here's where celebration becomes truly radical in our modern context: it's an act of resistance against the dominant narratives of our culture.
We live in a world that runs on anxiety. Our society worships at the altar of productivity and efficiency. The cultural message is relentless: grind harder, do more, optimize everything, never stop, never rest. Joy? That's naive. Celebration? That's wasteful. If you're not constantly striving, you're falling behind.
But when you intentionally celebrate—when you stop, gather people you love, make good food, laugh until your face hurts, and enjoy beauty for its own sake—you're declaring "No" to all of that toxic narrative.
You're saying the world's timeline isn't ultimate. You're proclaiming that your worth isn't tied to your output. You're declaring that joy is possible even when everything isn't perfect. You're bearing witness to a different kingdom with different values.
Celebration is warfare against the powers of despair, anxiety, and the tyranny of productivity.
What Celebration Is NOT
Before we go further, let's clarify what we mean by the spiritual discipline of celebration. We're not talking about hedonism or the mindless pursuit of pleasure as an end in itself. We're not advocating for getting drunk or engaging in destructive behavior just because it feels good in the moment.
The Greek word for the kind of joy Scripture celebrates is chara—a deep, rooted joy that transcends circumstances. This isn't happiness dependent on everything going well. It's joy that exists despite difficulty. It's celebration grounded in gratitude to God, not escapism from reality.
Biblical celebration is:
Intentional: Planned and purposeful, not accidental indulgence
Communal: Shared with others, building relationships and community
Grateful: Rooted in thanksgiving to God for His goodness
Embodied: Involving the physical senses God gave us—taste, touch, beauty, music
Defiant: A declaration that darkness doesn't have the final word
The Wisdom of Ecclesiastes
Even Ecclesiastes—that brutally honest book about the meaninglessness of life apart from God—repeatedly commands celebration. The writer, often called "the Preacher," doesn't sugarcoat the difficulty and confusion of existence. But even in his stark realism, he keeps circling back to this refrain:
"There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil" (Ecclesiastes 2:24).
"I commend joy, for man has nothing better under the sun but to eat and drink and be joyful" (Ecclesiastes 8:15).
It's as if the writer is saying, "Yes, life is hard and often confusing. Yes, we're going to die and much of our work will be forgotten. But for crying out loud, enjoy your dinner. Take pleasure in your work. Celebrate the good gifts you've been given."
This isn't resignation or cynicism—it's wisdom. It's recognizing that joy in the midst of life's difficulties is itself a profound act of faith.
Jesus: The Celebrating Messiah
The religious leaders of Jesus's day called Him a "glutton and a drunkard" (Matthew 11:19). Now obviously, Jesus wasn't actually guilty of gluttony or drunkenness—but He was celebrating enough that people noticed. He had a reputation.
Jesus ate with sinners. He attended parties. He told parables about banquets and wedding feasts. He described the kingdom of God not as a monastery or a courtroom, but as a wedding celebration. He painted pictures of a father throwing a party for a wayward son who returned home.
This matters profoundly. If Jesus—the perfect revelation of God's character—celebrated, then celebration can't be spiritually suspect or second-tier. It's central to understanding who God is and what His kingdom looks like.
Practical Steps: Celebration as Discipline
So what does it mean to practice celebration as a spiritual discipline? How do we move this from nice idea to actual practice?
1. Put Celebration on the Calendar
Just as you might schedule time for prayer or Bible study, schedule celebration. Put it on your calendar. Make it intentional. This might look like:
A weekly Sabbath meal with family or friends where you use the good dishes and light candles
Monthly gatherings where you cook together and share stories
Seasonal celebrations that mark the rhythms of the year
Spontaneous moments of joy that you protect from the tyranny of productivity
2. Practice Gratitude-Fueled Enjoyment
Before meals, don't just rush through a perfunctory prayer. Pause. Look at the food. Thank God specifically for the flavors, for the people who grew and prepared it, for the gift of taste itself. Then eat slowly and enjoy it. Let enjoyment be worship.
3. Create Beauty
You don't have to be an artist to practice beauty. Set a nice table. Arrange flowers. Light candles. Play music. Creating and enjoying beauty is a way of celebrating the God who made a world filled with unnecessary loveliness.
4. Celebrate Small Things
Don't wait for major milestones. Celebrate finishing a difficult project. Celebrate good weather. Celebrate a friend's small victory. Make celebration a habit, not just an annual event.
5. Dance
Yes, literally. Put on music and move. David danced before the Lord with all his might, and his wife's disapproval didn't stop him. Your kitchen is a perfectly acceptable place to worship through movement.
6. Laugh
Seek out things that make you laugh. Watch comedy. Share funny stories. Don't feel guilty about time spent laughing—it's part of being human, and being human is good.
Overcoming Guilt About Joy
Many Christians struggle with guilt when they enjoy things. There's a nagging voice that says, "Shouldn't you be doing something more productive? More spiritual? What about people who are suffering?"
That guilt isn't from God.
God made taste buds. God created the capacity for laughter. God designed the world with beauty and pleasure built in. When you enjoy these things as gifts from His hand and expressions of His character, that IS worship. It's not competing with other spiritual activities—it's one of them.
The apostle Paul wrote from prison, literally chained to a guard: "Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!" (Philippians 4:4). His circumstances were terrible, yet he commanded joy. Not because he was pretending everything was fine, but because celebration is warfare against despair.
The Eschatological Dimension
There's a profound theological reason celebration matters: it points forward. Every feast is a foretaste of the wedding supper of the Lamb. Every moment of joy is a preview of the age to come when God will dwell with humanity and "wipe away every tear from their eyes" (Revelation 21:4).
When we celebrate now, we're not just enjoying the present moment—we're rehearsing for eternity. We're declaring that the story ends in joy, not sorrow. We're bearing witness to the already-but-not-yet reality of God's kingdom.
Celebration Balances Other Disciplines
Richard Foster, in his classic book Celebration of Discipline (note the irony of that title), argues that celebration is the discipline that brings all other disciplines into proper balance. And he's right.
Fasting without feasting just makes you bitter and self-righteous. Prayer without celebration makes God seem like a harsh taskmaster you can never please. Solitude without community becomes isolation. Study without application becomes dead intellectualism.
All discipline and no joy? That's not Christianity. That's grim religion that eventually crushes the human spirit.
But when celebration is woven into the fabric of your spiritual life, it transforms everything else. Your fasting becomes more meaningful because you know how to feast well. Your prayers become more honest because you've experienced God's goodness. Your service becomes sustainable because you've learned to receive God's gifts with joy.
A Challenge to Practice
Here's my challenge to you this week: Plan one intentional act of celebration. Nothing elaborate or expensive. Just purposeful joy.
Maybe it's making your favorite meal and eating it slowly, savoring every bite. Maybe it's calling a friend and going somewhere beautiful together. Maybe it's putting on music and dancing like nobody's watching. Maybe it's taking a whole afternoon off—no email, no productivity, just rest and enjoyment.
Whatever it is, do it on purpose. Do it as worship. Do it as resistance against the forces that want to steal your joy.
Defiant Joy
The world will try to steal your joy. Cultural anxiety, personal struggles, grief, disappointment, exhaustion—all of these conspire against celebration. That's precisely why celebration must be a discipline, not just a feeling that comes and goes.
Celebration isn't frivolous. It's not a luxury reserved for seasons when everything is going perfectly. It's a practice—a way of remembering that God is good, life is a gift, and joy is part of how we bear witness to the kingdom.
When you celebrate in the middle of difficulty, you're declaring that darkness doesn't get the last word. When you feast, you're saying there's more to life than mere survival. When you laugh, you're echoing the joy of the age to come.
So celebrate on purpose. Make it a discipline. Practice joy as an act of worship and an act of warfare.
Because in a world bent on crushing hope, your joy is revolutionary.
An Invitation to go Deeper….
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