Joy in the Rain

Are you good at waiting? Waiting for the right mood. Waiting for the right timing. Waiting for things to feel easier before you let yourself enjoy anything. I’ll be happy after this deadline. I’ll rest after this week. I’ll feel joy when life slows down a little. Have you ever thought that you might be postponing joy God has already made available? Joy has a way of feeling like a reward we earn after surviving something hard. But Scripture never treats joy like a finish line. It treats it like a choice—one we’re invited to make right in the middle of ordinary, messy life.

James 1:2 says, "when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy." That sounds a little wild at first. Not because hard times are fun. Not because struggle is the goal. But because joy isn’t rooted in what’s happening, it’s rooted in who God is and what He’s doing beneath the surface. Joy on purpose doesn’t wait for permission from your circumstances. It shows up on regular Saturdays. It shows up when the house is loud, the inbox is full, and your energy is low. It shows up when nothing remarkable happens, yet God is still present. Joy looks like choosing to notice God’s faithfulness instead of rehearsing everything that feels unfinished. It’s thanking Him for what’s steady when your emotions aren’t. It’s trusting that even when your life doesn’t feel Instagram-worthy, it’s still God-ordained. If we’re lacking joy, it’s not because God is withholding it. It’s often because we’re distracted from His presence. I’m guilty of this. Letting life take priority, pushing time with God to the back burner, and suddenly my joy feels thin. Funny how that works. Choosing joy means changing what you dwell on. Turning down the noise. Letting go of comparison. Refusing to let frustration narrate your entire day. It doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine—it means deciding that God is still good, even here.

People often ask me, “how do you not get stressed planning weddings?” And the honest answer is—of course there’s stress. But I can go to sleep the night before and the night after knowing I prepared and executed everything to the best of my ability. Outside of that, it’s in God’s hands. I choose to find the good in the situation. If a bride trips walking down the aisle, I remind her, no big deal—you weren’t going to hang that photo on the wall anyway. If we run ten minutes behind schedule, it’s okay—no one knows the timeline but you and me. And if it rains? You won’t melt. We’ll still get you married, and they say rain is good luck. That perspective has always helped me keep my peace—until the day I learned what choosing joy really looks like when nothing goes according to plan. Let me tell you a story.

When I think about choosing joy in hard moments, I always think back to one wedding in particular. The bride had experienced more loss than her age do. She lost her father when she was young, and then—just six months before her wedding and only days before Christmas, she lost her brother in a car accident. To make it even heavier, she chose to get married at her childhood home… the same place where her brother was laid to rest. You can imagine how emotional that day already was before anything even went wrong.

And then—everything went wrong. Rain came fast and unexpectedly. Plans shifted. Control was gone. Nothing we prepared for mattered anymore. I was soaked, exhausted, and completely out of options. Nothing was going according to plan, and nothing I suggested seemed good enough. In the middle of all the chaos, the ceremony ended up happening inside her home—immediate family gathered in the living room while guests waited under a tent outside. It wasn’t what we planned. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t pretty. But it was real. Standing there, completely spent, and soaking wet dripping water on their hardwood floors I remember thinking where on earth is the joy in this day. Then quietly I said to her, “God has a better plan. Maybe this is exactly how it was meant to happen—getting married in the home you grew up in, surrounded by family photos, your dad’s presence felt in every room, your brother’s room just down the hall, and the Christmas tree still standing in the living room… a quiet reminder of the last thing you did together.” That was the moment I chose joy on purpose. Not because the day was easy. Not because anyone said thank you. Not because it felt rewarding in the moment. But because at the end of it all—she was married. A covenant was made. Love still won. God was still present. I worked that wedding until late that night, tired, still soaked, and unnoticed. And for a long time afterward, I wrestled with the fact that gratitude never came. But over time, God gently reminded me of this truth... joy doesn’t come from being recognized—it comes from knowing something meaningful happened, even in the mess. Joy looks like trusting that God is at work when plans fall apart. It’s choosing to see what is instead of mourning what isn’t. It’s finding peace in knowing that even the messiest moments can still hold holy purpose. Maybe one day she’ll look back and remember it as the best day of her life. But even if she doesn’t, I can still look back and say—God was faithful. And that was enough.

SHE Walks in Faith

Today ask yourself... what if joy is already available to me right now? Choose to live from God's presence instead of your circumstances. Joy isn't postponed, it's purposeful—even when the plan falls apart. Remember God is still working in the mess, still present in the rain, and still faithful when outcomes look different than expected.

🩷 Prayer

God, thank You for the joy that comes from being with You. Help me stop waiting for perfect conditions and start choosing joy right where I am. Shift my focus from what’s lacking to Your steady presence. Teach me to walk in joy on purpose today. Amen.