Choose Joy. Build Community. Change the World.
Scripture:
Isaiah 61:1-4, 10-11
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives
and release to the prisoners,
2
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.
4
They shall build up the ancient ruins;
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations.
10
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
my whole being shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
11
For as the earth brings forth its shoots
and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up,
so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
to spring up before all the nations.
Nehemiah 8:10
“Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”
Justice Needs More Than Anger
First, let me say what a gift it is to be with you today.
Congratulations to the Center for Sustainable Justice on ten years of ministry, organizing, relationship-building, healing, and transformation.
Ten years of helping people imagine a more just world.
Ten years of helping people care for one another.
Ten years of helping people build communities where people can thrive.
Ten years of sustainable justice.
And I think it is fitting that on this anniversary we talk about joy.
Because when people hear the words social justice, they often think about struggle.
They think about protests.
They think about advocacy.
They think about resistance.
They think about hard conversations.
And all of that matters.
But movements built only on anger eventually burn out.
Movements built only on outrage eventually become exhausted.
Movements survive because they know how to cultivate joy.
And that is what Isaiah understands.
Isaiah paints one of the most powerful visions of justice in all of scripture.
Good news for the oppressed.
Healing for the brokenhearted.
Liberty for the captives.
The rebuilding of ruined cities.
The repair of generations of harm.
This is not private spirituality.
This is public transformation.
This is justice.
This is liberation.
This is sustainable change.
But notice what happens after Isaiah talks about oppression and liberation.
The prophet does not move into exhaustion.
The prophet moves into joy.
“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord.”
That is remarkable.
Because Isaiah understands something many activists forget.
Joy is not what happens after the work is finished.
Joy is part of the work.
And Nehemiah tells us why.
“The joy of the Lord is your strength.”
Not your reward.
Your strength.
Not what comes after the struggle.
What sustains you through it.
Black Queer Joy Is Not Naive
As a Black queer man, I have spent much of my life watching people misunderstand Black queer joy.
People see us laughing.
Dancing.
Creating.
Celebrating.
Showing up in our beauty and brilliance.
And sometimes they assume we must not understand how serious the moment is.
Oh, we understand.
We understand exactly how serious the moment is.
Black queer joy is not naïve.
Black queer joy is informed.
It knows the history.
It knows the pain.
It knows the rejection.
It knows the funerals.
It knows the discrimination.
It knows the violence.
It knows the loneliness.
It knows what it means to survive in a world that was not built with you in mind.
And still it chooses joy.
That is what makes it powerful.
Joy that has never encountered suffering is easy.
Joy that survives suffering is revolutionary.
Black queer communities have learned something important:
The systems that seek to harm us do not just want our bodies.
They want our imagination.
They want our hope.
They want our ability to envision another future.
They want us exhausted.
Because exhausted people stop dreaming.
Exhausted people stop creating.
Exhausted people stop organizing.
Exhausted people begin to believe nothing can change.
Black queer joy refuses that lie.
Black queer joy says:
You do not get to have the final word about my life.
You do not get to define my worth.
You do not get to steal my song.
You do not get to steal my dance.
You do not get to steal my future.
That is resistance.
Choose Joy
The first lesson Black queer joy offers the wider church is this:
Choose joy.
Now let me be clear.
Choosing joy is not pretending everything is okay.
Choosing joy is not denying grief.
Choosing joy is not ignoring injustice.
In fact, some of the most joyful people I know have every reason to despair.
Because joy is not the absence of pain.
Joy is the refusal to let pain become the whole story.
Isaiah looks at oppression and says:
“I will greatly rejoice.”
Nehemiah looks at people emerging from devastation and says:
“The joy of the Lord is your strength.”
Not because everything is perfect.
But because joy gives people the strength to keep going.
Joy is fuel.
Joy is nourishment.
Joy is resistance against despair.
And church, we need that reminder.
Because there are powerful forces in our world that benefit when people lose hope.
But hope-filled people are dangerous.
Joyful people are dangerous.
People who believe another world is possible are dangerous.
And so we choose joy.
Not because the struggle is over.
But because the struggle continues.
Build Community
The second lesson Black queer communities teach us is this:
Build community.
One of the reasons Black queer people have survived is because we learned early that nobody survives alone.
We built chosen families.
We created networks of care.
We checked on one another.
We fed one another.
We celebrated one another.
We buried one another.
We carried one another.
We held one another up when the world tried to tear us down.
That is not weakness.
That is wisdom.
And honestly, it may be one of the greatest gifts Black queer communities offer the wider world.
We understand that liberation is collective.
Nobody gets free alone.
Nobody heals alone.
Nobody thrives alone.
Isaiah says:
“They shall rebuild the ancient ruins.”
Notice the pronoun.
Not I.
They.
Justice is communal work.
Healing is communal work.
Transformation is communal work.
And that is why the work of the Center for Sustainable Justice matters.
Because sustainable justice is not simply about changing systems.
It is about building relationships.
It is about creating communities capable of sustaining the work.
It is about making sure people have what they need to keep showing up.
Movements do not survive because people work harder.
Movements survive because people care for one another.
Change the World
The final lesson is this:
Change the world.
I know that sounds ambitious.
But every movement for justice began with people imagining something better.
The Civil Rights Movement.
The LGBTQ+ Movement.
Labor movements.
Immigrant rights movements.
All of them began with ordinary people refusing to accept the world as it was.
Isaiah understood this.
The prophet envisioned ruined cities rebuilt.
Broken communities restored.
Captives liberated.
Oppressed people receiving good news.
That vision was larger than Isaiah’s moment.
It was a vision of God’s future.
And Black queer joy helps us practice that future before it fully arrives.
Every act of celebration in a culture of despair.
Every act of self-love in a culture of shame.
Every gathering where people experience belonging.
Every dance floor.
Every dinner table.
Every worship service.
Every act of mutual aid.
Every moment of chosen family.
These are not distractions from justice.
They are rehearsals for the world we are trying to build.
The Joy That Sustains the Movement
As we celebrate ten years of the Center for Sustainable Justice, I want to offer a simple challenge.
Keep organizing.
Keep advocating.
Keep showing up.
Keep resisting.
Keep building.
But don’t forget to celebrate.
Don’t forget to create.
Don’t forget to laugh.
Don’t forget to dance.
Don’t forget to delight in one another.
Because the world already has enough cynicism.
The world already has enough fear.
The world already has enough despair.
What the world needs are communities courageous enough to practice joy.
What the world needs are people willing to choose joy, build community, and change the world.
Because Black queer communities have been teaching us all along:
Joy is not the opposite of resistance.
Joy is one of its most powerful forms.
And when the work feels overwhelming, remember:
“The joy of the Lord is your strength.”
Amen.
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