“I have the right to be happy,” said a teenager as she spoke before a legislature. Yet she could have been anyone anywhere, speaking for everybody. It’s our human cry. One self-help guru even said, “God wants you to be happy.”

Is that true? It’s not wrong to pursue happiness. That desirable state of mind, however, ebbs and flows with our moment-by-moment circumstances, and the fulfillment of one person’s desires can crush the happiness of another.

Jesus points us to something better. He knew He was about to be nailed to a Roman cross where He would bear the weight of the world’s sin. Yet His concern was for His disciples. He told them, “You will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.” But He also said, “Your grief will turn to joy” (John 16:20). Then He promised, “No one will take away your joy” (v. 22).

This kind of joy is more than a good feeling based on desirable things happening to us. It grows out of doing the will of our Father in heaven. Jesus also said, “Seek first [God’s] kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:33).

Happiness can slip away with the next unpleasant circumstance. The joy that comes from following Jesus can thrive despite those circumstances.

Hunched over a manual typewriter, Itzhak Stern worked through the night, tapping out names—1,098 in all. The names comprised a list of Jewish workers protected from the Nazis by factory owner Oskar Schindler. Clutching the document, Stern declared, “The list is an absolute good. The list is life.” Those named on its pages would survive the Holocaust. In 2012, it was estimated that the descendants of the survivors numbered 8,500.

The Bible contains its share of lists. We tend to skip them. Too many names; too much repetition. We might even say today’s reading is . . . boring. “The descendants of Judah by their clans were: through Shelah, the Shelanite clan; through Perez, the Perezite clan . . .” (Numbers 26:20). Who cares?

God cares! “These were the Israelites who came out of Egypt,” says the historical record (v. 4). Soon the people would inhabit the land promised to them. And one day, Messiah would come from this very clan of Judah. The list is life, not only for the Jewish people but for all who trust in Jesus.

We know of Oskar Schindler’s list from the powerful film Schindler’s List and historical records. We know of God’s great salvation from the story recorded for us in the Bible. As we read, may His Spirit show us the worth of even the lists. They have something to say to us too.

Following the South’s catastrophic loss at Gettysburg in the American Civil War (1863), General Robert E. Lee led his battered troops back to southern territory. Heavy rains flooded the Potomac River, blocking his retreat. President Abraham Lincoln urged General George Meade to attack. But Meade’s men were just as weary as Lee’s. He rested his troops.

Lincoln picked up his quill and wrote a letter in which he confessed he was “distressed immeasurably” at Meade’s reluctance to pursue Lee. On the envelope are these words in the president’s handwriting: “To Gen. Meade, never sent, or signed.” And indeed, it never was.  

Long before Lincoln, another great leader grasped the importance of reining in our emotions. Anger, no matter how justified, is a dangerously powerful force. “Do you see someone who speaks in haste?” King Solomon asked. “There is more hope for a fool than for them” (Proverbs 29:20). Solomon knew that “by justice a king gives a country stability” (v. 4). He also understood that “fools give full vent to their rage, but the wise bring calm in the end” (v. 11).

And in the end, not sending that letter prevented Lincoln from demoralizing his top general, helped win a necessary war, and contributed to the healing of a nation. We do well to learn from examples like his of wise restraint.

To improve her sign language skills, Leisa immersed herself in the world of the Deaf. Soon she learned the problems they face. The Deaf are awkwardly ignored by hearing people, are expected to lipread flawlessly, and are routinely passed over for promotions at work. Most public events go uninterpreted.

Leisa’s signing steadily improved to the point where she felt at home with the Deaf. At a party, a Deaf person was surprised to learn Leisa could hear. Before Leisa could respond, another friend signed, “She has a Deaf heart.” The key had been Leisa’s willingness to live in their world.

Leisa didn’t “condescend” to be with the Deaf. Except for her hearing, she was like them. But Jesus did stoop to reach all of us—to live in our world. He “was made lower than the angels for a little while” (Hebrews 2:9). Christ “shared in [our] humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death.” In doing so, He freed “those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (vv. 14–15). More than that, He was “fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God” (v. 17).

Whatever we face, Jesus knows and understands. He hears our heart. He’s with us in every way.

Photographer Ronn Murray likes cold weather. Very cold weather. “Cold means clear skies,” notes journalist Lee Cowan in a TV interview with Murray. “And that can open a window to the wonderful!”

Ronn and his wife, Marketa, provide Alaskan photography tours dedicated to tracking Earth’s most spectacular light show—aurora borealis (the northern lights). Murray speaks of the experience as “very spiritual.” If you’ve ever seen this iridescent display dance across the heavens, you’ll understand why.

But the lights aren’t only a northern phenomenon. Aurora australis, nearly identical to borealis, occurs simultaneously in the south. That’s because they’re the same kind of lights.

In the disciple John’s telling of the Christmas story, he skips the stable and shepherds and goes directly to the One who “brought light to everyone” (John 1:4 nlt). When John later writes of a heavenly city, he describes the source of its light. This “city has no need of sun or moon, for the glory of God illuminates the city, and the Lamb is its light” (Revelation 21:23 NLT). This light source is Jesus—the same source referenced in John 1. And for those who inhabit this future dwelling, “There will be no night there—no need for lamps or sun—for the Lord God will shine on them” (22:5 nlt).

As our lives reflect this light of the world—the One who created aurora borealis and australis—we open a window to the truly wonderful.

In 1986, the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in Ukraine dominated the world’s attention. As the magnitude of the catastrophe became apparent, officials scrambled to the critically essential task of containing the radiation. But the job posed enormous problems. Highly radioactive debris cluttered the roof of the plant, and lethal gamma rays kept destroying the robots deployed to clean up the mess.

Finally the decision was made to use “bio robots”—human beings! Thousands of heroic individuals became “Chernobyl liquidators,” disposing of the hazardous material in “shifts” of ninety seconds or less. People did what technology could not, at great personal risk.

Long ago, our rebellion against God introduced a catastrophe that led to all other catastrophes (see Genesis 3). Through Adam and Eve, we chose to part ways with our Creator, and we made our world a toxic mess in the process. We could never clean it up ourselves.

That’s the whole point of Christmas. The apostle John wrote of Jesus, “The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us” (1 John 1:2). Then John declared, “The blood of Jesus, [God’s] Son, purifies us from all sin” (v. 7).

Jesus has provided what His creatures could not. As we believe in Him, He restores us to a right relationship with His Father. He’s liquidated death itself. The life has appeared.

During World War II, US Navy medical corpsman Lynne Weston went ashore with the marines as they stormed enemy-held islands. Inevitably, there were gruesome casualties. He did his best to patch up wounded combatants for evacuation. On one occasion, his unit encountered an enemy soldier with a bad abdominal wound. Due to the nature of the injury, the man couldn’t be given water. To keep him alive, Petty Officer Weston administered intravenous plasma.

“Save that plasma for our fellas, Swabby!” bellowed one of the marines. Petty Officer Weston ignored him. He knew what Jesus would do. “Love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44).

Jesus did far more than speak those challenging words; He lived them. When a hostile mob seized Him and took Him to the high priest, “The men who were guarding Jesus began mocking and beating him” (Luke 22:63). The abuse continued all the way through His sham trials and execution. Jesus didn’t merely endure it. When Roman soldiers crucified Him, He prayed for their forgiveness (23:33-34).

We may not encounter a literal enemy who is trying to kill us. But everyone knows what it’s like to endure ridicule and scorn. Our natural reaction is to respond in anger. Jesus raised the bar: “Pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44).

Today, let’s walk in that kind of love, showing kindness as Jesus did—even to our enemies.

In a classic Peanuts comic strip, Linus’ friend berates him for his belief in the Great Pumpkin. Walking away dejectedly, Linus says, “There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people . . . religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin!”

The Great Pumpkin existed only in Linus’ head, but the other two topics are oh-so-real—dividing nations, families, and friends. The problem occurred in Jesus’ day as well. The Pharisees were deeply religious and tried to follow the Old Testament law to the letter. The Herodians were more political, yet both groups wanted to see the Jewish people freed from Roman oppression. Jesus didn’t seem to share their goals. So they approached Him with a politically charged question: should the people pay taxes to Caesar? (Mark 12:14–15). If Jesus said yes, the people would resent Him. If He said no, the Romans could arrest Him for insurrection.

Jesus asked for a coin. “Whose image is this?” He asked (v. 16). Everyone knew it was Caesar’s. Jesus’ words resonate today: “Give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s” (v. 17). His priorities in order, Jesus avoided their trap.

Jesus came to do His Father’s will. Following His lead, we too can seek God and His kingdom above all else, directing the focus away from all the dissension and toward the One who is the Truth.

In 1921, artist Sam Rodia began construction on his Watts Towers. Thirty-three years later seventeen sculptures rose as high as thirty meters over Los Angeles. Musician Jerry Garcia was dismissive of Rodia’s lifework. “That’s the payoff,” said Garcia. “That thing that exists after you’re dead.” Then he said, “Wow, that’s not it for me.”

So what was the payoff for him? His bandmate Bob Weir summed up their philosophy: “In eternity, nothing will be remembered of you. So why not just have fun?”

A wealthy, wise man once tried to find the “payoff” by doing everything he possibly could. He wrote, “I said to myself, ‘Come now, I will test you with pleasure to find out what is good’ ” (Ecclesiastes 2:1). But he noted, “The wise, like the fool, will not be long remembered” (v. 16). He concluded, “The work that is done under the sun was grievous to me” (v. 17).

The life and message of Jesus radically counter such shortsighted living. Jesus came to give us “life to the full” (John 10:10) and taught us to live this life with the next one in view. “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,” He said. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven” (Matthew 6:19-20). Then He summed it up: “Seek first [God’s] kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (v. 33).

That’s the payoff—both under the sun and beyond.

In 1960, Otto Preminger provoked controversy with his movie Exodus. Based on Leon Uris’s novel, it provides a fictional account of Jewish refugees emigrating to Palestine after World War II. The film concludes with the bodies of a young European-Jewish girl and an Arab man, both murder victims, buried in the same grave in what will soon be the nation of Israel.

Preminger leaves the conclusion to us. Is this a metaphor for despair, a dream forever buried? Or is it a symbol of hope, as two peoples with a history of hatred and hostilities come together—in death and in life?

Perhaps the sons of Korah, credited with writing Psalm 87, would take the latter view of this scene. They anticipated a peace we still await. Of Jerusalem, they wrote, “Glorious things are said of you, city of God” (v. 3). They sang of a day when nations—all with a history of warring against the Jewish people—will come together to acknowledge the one true God: Rahab (Egypt), Babylon, the Philistines, Tyre, Cush (v. 4). All will be drawn to Jerusalem, and to God.

The conclusion of the psalm is celebratory. People in Jerusalem will sing, “All my fountains [springs] are in you” (v. 7). Who are they singing of? The One who is the Living Water, the Source of all life (John 4:14). Jesus is the only one who can bring lasting peace and unity.