The Gift Already Given

There is a moment from my childhood that has stayed with me my entire life. It was the Christmas morning I received a Nintendo Entertainment System — the original Nintendo — the gray box with the rectangular controller and the red “power” button that clicked when you pressed it.

But before you picture the glossy commercial version, the kind wrapped in shiny paper straight from a toy store, let me be honest: this wasn’t a brand-new NES. My family wasn’t in a position to get that.

It was second hand. And it came from my older brother.

He had saved it, kept it working, and on that Christmas morning, he placed it in front of me. No big box. No dramatic bow. No brand-new electronics smell. It was used. It had some scratches on the top. The sticker on the controller was peeling at the corner. The game cartridges had to be blown into — half scientifically, half superstitiously — to work properly.

But to me? It was the greatest gift in the world.

I still remember the moment he handed it to me. I remember the shock. I remember the joy. The way my heart leapt. The way the whole room felt suddenly brighter. The way my brother smiled, knowing the joy it brought me.

Was it perfect? No. Was it brand new? Not even close. Did it work every time? Definitely not.

But did it bring joy? Absolutely. Fully. Immediately. Deeply. For a long time.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t new. It mattered that it was given in love. It mattered that someone thought of me. It mattered that joy can show up in unexpected ways, in imperfect packages.

And friends, that is exactly the kind of joy Paul is talking about in Philippians.

Hear this:

Philippians 4:4–7 NRSV

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Paul writes these words — this command to “rejoice always” — from a prison cell. Not from a beach. Not from a retreat. Not from a place where everything is perfect.

He writes from confinement. From limitation. From uncertainty.

His joy is not based on circumstances. His joy is not fragile. His joy is not dependent on everything going well.

Paul is showing us something profound: Joy is not a mood. Joy is not an emotion. Joy is not something you manufacture. Joy is a gift — something God gives.

And just like that second-hand NES, joy doesn’t always arrive the way we expect it to.

It doesn’t always come wrapped in success. It doesn’t always come packaged in ease. It doesn’t always come through brand-new circumstances.

Joy often arrives right where we least expect it: In ordinary moments. In imperfect situations. In burdens we can’t carry alone. In the quiet assurance that “The Lord is near.”

Joy is God’s presence breaking into our lives, not because everything is going perfectly, but because God has drawn close.

And let’s be honest: our world doesn’t exactly feel joyful right now.

We live in a world of anxiety, division, economic pressure, loneliness, and constant noise. We scroll through conflict. We walk through stress. We carry burdens no one else sees.

Our joy can feel thin, fragile, and easily stolen.

But Paul doesn’t say, “Rejoice when everything is perfect.” Paul says:

“Rejoice in the Lord always.”

Why? Because joy is not rooted in your perfection. Joy is not rooted in your circumstances. Joy is rooted in Jesus — in His nearness, His goodness, His presence, His promise that you do not face anything alone.

Let’s go back to the Nintendo for a moment.

One of the funniest things about the NES is that half the time, you had to troubleshoot it to get it to work. You blew into the cartridge. You pushed it in and out. You pressed the power button three times in a row, as if that might convince it to turn on.

But none of that diminished the joy of having it.

You didn’t need perfection to experience joy. You just needed to receive the gift.

Advent joy works the same way.

Joy is not the absence of struggle. Joy is not the denial of grief. Joy is not pretending everything is fine.

Joy is the presence of Christ right in the middle of whatever is happening.

Joy is knowing that the Lord is near. Joy is trusting that God hears your prayers. Joy is believing that God is at work even when circumstances don’t change immediately. Joy is opening your heart to the gift that’s already been given.

Joy is something you unwrap — not something you earn.

And here’s the beautiful truth: When Paul tells us not to worry, he is not scolding us. He is reminding us that worry cannot do for us what God already wants to do. Worry cannot heal us. Worry cannot free us. Worry cannot restore us. Worry cannot love us.

But joy — the joy of Christ — can.

Joy is strong enough to guard your heart. Joy is powerful enough to steady your mind. Joy is deep enough to anchor you in the storms of life.

Joy is the gift that keeps showing up, even in imperfect wrapping.

And friends, joy is not something you have to wait for. It is something God has already given you in Jesus.

Joy has been placed in your hands. Joy has been placed in your heart. Joy has been placed in your life because Jesus has come, Jesus is near, and Jesus will come again.

That’s why we light a pink candle. That’s why we call this Gaudete Sunday — “Rejoice Sunday.” Because in the middle of Advent’s waiting, joy breaks in early. Joy shows up ahead of schedule. Joy interrupts the darkness with a whisper of hope.

Let me say it clearly:

If joy needed everything in your life to be perfect, none of us would have joy. But joy needs only one thing — Jesus.

And He is here.

When you feel overwhelmed, He is near. When you feel fractured, He guards your heart. When you feel anxious, He offers peace that defies understanding. When you feel joyless, He reminds you that joy is not earned — it is given.

So this week, I want you to think about that gift you once received that brought you joy, whether it was new, used, unexpected, or imperfect.

And let it remind you:

Joy comes not from the wrapping, not from the condition, not from the circumstances…

Joy comes from the Giver.

And the Giver is good. The Giver is near. The Giver is Jesus.

Amen.