Read

John 16:22 “Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.”

Think

There’s a kind of joy that’s fragile—the kind that disappears the moment something goes wrong. Plans fall through, people disappoint you, stress piles up, and just like that, the joy you had a moment ago is gone. That kind of joy is real, but it’s easily stolen. And Jesus knows that. Which is why, before his death, he looked at his disciples and promised them something better. He said, “You will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.”

That line came in the middle of a heartbreaking conversation. Jesus had just told his friends he was going to die. They didn’t fully understand what he meant, but they felt the weight of it. Confusion, sadness, fear—it was all setting in. He was preparing them for grief. But then he promised that their sorrow would turn to joy. And not just any joy—a joy no one could take away. That kind of joy doesn’t come from good vibes or easy days. It comes from being anchored to something eternal. Jesus was telling them, “Yes, things are about to get dark. Yes, you’ll feel like all hope is lost. But when you see me again—when you realize I’ve defeated death—your joy will be untouchable.”

This wasn’t just a pep talk for first-century disciples. It’s a promise for you too. Life will hand you both celebration and loss. There will be days when joy feels natural and days when it feels out of reach. But the resurrection of Jesus offers something the world can’t replicate or remove. It gives you a joy that doesn’t break when life does.

Joy that can’t be taken is rooted in the reality that Christ is alive, and so is your hope. It’s the kind of joy that holds steady in hospital rooms, in broken relationships, in seasons of uncertainty. It’s the kind of joy that looks at loss and still says, “Jesus is enough.” Not because you’re denying the pain, but because you’re anchored in something deeper than the pain.

This joy shows up in quiet confidence. It’s not loud. It’s not performative. But it is real. And it often shines brightest when everything else is falling apart. People may not be able to explain it—but they’ll see it in you. A steadiness. A softness. A refusal to give in to despair.

That’s the kind of joy Jesus gives. But here’s the challenge: you have to guard that joy. Not guard it like you’re afraid to lose it—but like you’re refusing to hand it over. The enemy will try to convince you that joy is only for when life is going well. That it’s naive. That it’s temporary. But the Spirit says otherwise. The Spirit reminds you that your joy is not tied to your timeline. It’s tied to the cross. To the empty tomb. To the presence of God in your everyday life.

Today, when frustration creeps in, when anxiety rises, when things go sideways, you can say, “This can touch my plans, but it can’t take my joy. Because my joy isn’t in what’s happening—it’s in who is with me.” That is joy that cannot be taken. And it’s yours.

Apply

Set a reminder on your phone with this phrase: “My joy doesn’t depend on this moment.” Every time it pops up today, take a breath. Thank Jesus for the cross. Thank him for the resurrection. And ask him to anchor your joy in him, not in what’s happening around you.

Pray

Jesus, thank you that my joy doesn’t depend on how today goes. Thank you for a joy that’s rooted in your victory, not my comfort. Teach me to live anchored in that joy—to guard it, protect it, and let it shine in a world that desperately needs to see it. In Jesus’ name. Amen.