Sometimes it’s bigger than that.
Your year starts strong, everyone’s healthy, things are looking up — until tragedy strikes.
Life has this way of escalating quickly from good to really, really bad.
I remember a day that started perfectly.
Family gathering planned, everyone excited. Then the phone rang. Within 90 minutes, we’d learned our sister-in-law had been killed in a car accident.
What began as a celebration became one of the darkest seasons of our lives.
If you’re anything like me, you’ve learned that life is often difficult, discouraging and disappointing. When circumstances go sideways, joy doesn’t exactly bubble up naturally.
Most of us operate on a simple equation: Good circumstances equal joy. Bad circumstances equal sadness. So to feel joy, we need only good circumstances.
But what if that’s not how joy actually works?
There’s this remarkable story about two guys, Paul and Silas, whose day escalated very quickly.
They were helping people, then suddenly found themselves stripped, beaten and thrown into prison, chained in the inner dungeon.
Here’s what blows me away: at midnight, bruised and broken, they were singing and praying.
That’s not normal, is it? If that were me, I’d be wallowing in self-pity. And you know what else I’d probably be doing? Looking around at the other prisoners thinking they had it better. Better cells, fewer chains, more food.
That’s the thing about comparison — it’s the thief of all joy. We’re perfectly content with our life until we see someone else’s. Happy with our car until the neighbour gets a new one. Satisfied with our home until we scroll through social media.
Here’s what Paul and Silas understood that I’m still learning: Joy is not the absence of problems, but the presence of perspective.
They knew they were already blessed — not waiting to be blessed, already blessed. Even in prison.
The thing is, fish forget they’re wet. We forget we’re blessed.
While you may not be in a physical prison, life sometimes puts us in emotional ones. When work overwhelms, relationships strain, finances tighten — those feel like prison walls too.
The question becomes: What are you focusing on?
Here’s what happened next: An earthquake shook the prison. Doors flew open. Chains fell off.
But the beautiful part? Their perspective, their ability to find joy in darkness, ended up saving their jailer’s life.
I don’t know what emotional prison you might be in today. But maybe instead of pleading for circumstances to change, you could start by changing your perspective.
Try this: Write down three things you’re grateful for each day. Not rocket science, but it works.
Because joy isn’t about waiting for better circumstances. It’s about focusing on what you can be thankful for right now.
Rob Wiltshire
Epicentre Church
