“Joy as Resistance”

Eighteenth Sunday After Pentecost

October 12, 2025

2 Kings 5:1-15

Luke 17:11-19

Children’s Message:

Today, we heard a story of Jesus healing 10 people with a serious skin disease. Because of this disease, they weren’t allowed to live in their villages or be with their families. Jesus cured them and told them to show themselves to the priests—because the priests were the ones who could give them permission to participate in their communities again. How do you think they felt about this? Did they say ‘thank you?’

Only one did. The others were so excited that they ran home to be with their families again. But one came back to say thank you to Jesus.

Do your parents ever have to remind you to say thank you? When should you say thank you? Being healed is a pretty big deal. But there are things every day that we just don’t pay attention to that we should be thankful for. Can you think of anything regular that you forget to say ‘Thank you’ for?

Let’s pray. Dear God. Thank you for the little things. Thank you for the big things. Thank you for everything in between. Amen.

Message:

A couple of weeks ago, I spent the day at the football field watching marching band performances. I probably spent 8 hours or more watching band after band, getting sunburned, and trying to bring life back into my bum. After a full day, we awaited the results. It was well after 10pm, and everyone was tired and strung out. And while we waited, they started to play music over the speakers. And within seconds, all of the kids were on their feet, singing, dancing, jumping, and just enjoying themselves. Together. The rest of us parents? We all had our phones out recording them.

Because it’s so beautiful to see competing teams and students all join together in joyful expression—in things they all love. And while we would all eventually trudge home to crash in our beds that night, the energy of those moments lasted.

That’s the nature of joy. Joy is resistance. Resistance to competition, resistance to oppression, resistance to hierarchy, resistance to pain and suffering. It is the way we navigate sadness and sorrow and struggle. Joy is a remedy on the path to complete healing. To salvation.

That is what we see in today’s gospel lesson, as well as the story about Naaman. You see, suffering can hit anyone—at any time. Naaman was a mighty warrior. Well-beloved and honored. He had privilege and prestige. And he had leprosy. What makes him unique is that he also had faithful people around him whom he acknowledged and listened to. His wife listened to their Hebrew slave girl when she told them about God’s prophets in Israel. Naaman listened to his wife when she relayed the message. He listened to his servants and guardsmen when they convinced him that Elisha’s instructions should be followed. And when he arose from the Jordan River, his joy overflowed. “Surely,” he said, “there is a God in Israel.”

We know less about the ten men Jesus encountered at the border of Samaria and Galilee. But in his mercy, he told them to go show themselves to the priests. And along the way, they were healed. Not before they left, but along the way. Lest we disparage these people, they obeyed before they knew. They believed before they saw. Perhaps it wasn’t until they reached their respective priests did they realize the extend of their healing.

But one man did notice. He noticed the little changes within him. And he turned back. He turned back with joy and gratitude. You see, joy doesn’t happen by itself. Like faith, it isn’t something you can will yourself to feel. Its seed is planted in the soil of suffering, and gratitude is the nourishment that causes it to grow and bloom.

You’ve all seen pictures of dandelions sprouting between the cracks in the pavement or crocuses pushing up from a field of stone. This is what joy looks like. And without gratitude, it remains just a seed, cowering in the shadows, afraid to be seen.

So, how do we encourage joy? And why should we? Well, we should simply because joy is good for us. But joy is an act of resistance. As I’ve pointed out before, everything about Christian worship is an act of resistance against the powers of this world. Communion brings together people of all times and places, across ethnicities and denominations and political viewpoints, putting us all on equal ground at the foot of the cross, at the table of Christ.

Gathering for worship is resistance as we push past the narrative of this world that wants us to believe that we are alone—that we can’t depend on anyone but ourselves. And joy as resistance defies the fear we can so easily fall into.

Kellie Carter Jackson tells stories of joy-filled resistance in her book, “We Refuse: A Forceful History of Black Resistance.” One story is of the Haitian Revolution in which Black revolutionary fighters were pushing back against the French. Captured revolutionaries were publicly executed. There were women who were captured by the French, and they refused to give up their joy. As they stood on the gallows, they smiled. Their smile told the French that they wouldn’t give up their lives, but they would rob them of labor and profits. Their smile told their children that they would someday be free. That liberation and freedom is to be celebrated, not taken for granted.

This joy—this isn’t the same as happiness. It isn’t contentment. It’s fierce. It’s defiant. It refuses to buy into a narrative of fear and distrust. It finds it’s grounding in art and music and bold expressions of the power of community. Joy gathers us together as one. Born of gratitude, joy demands justice.

When I think of this fierce joy, I think of the song, “This is Me” from the Greatest Showman.

When the sharpest words wanna cut me down

I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown 'em out

I am brave, I am bruised

I am who I'm meant to be, this is me

Look out 'cause here I come

And I'm marching on to the beat I drum

I'm not scared to be seen

I make no apologies, this is me

I think of our hymn, “Canticle of the Turning.”

From the halls of power to the fortress tower

Not a stone will be left on stone

Let the king beware for your

Justice tears ev'ry tyrant from his throne

The hungry poor shall weep no more

For the food they can never earn

There are tables spread, ev'ry

Mouth be fed

For the world is about to turn

I think about the protests in Portland filled with costumes of frogs and dinosaurs and people doing the Electric Slide. And the Ode to the Portland Frog penned by Shane Ford:

From the mist of the moss

And the grey Oregon rain,

There leaps a green hero

To ease all the pain.

My love for this frog

Is a powerful thing,

For the justice and freedom

His ribbit can bring.

With a croak full of spirit

And a firm little bound,

He stands up to bigots

Who poison the ground.

He’s our small, squat defender,

So brave and so fast,

A symbol of hope

That forever will last.

In your pews you’ll find packs of small sticky notes. What I’d like for you to do is to take a paper and write something you’re grateful for—something that brings you joy. But be super specific. Many of us are inclined to write ‘family’ or ‘music.’ Narrow it down. I’m grateful for my daughter enjoying practicing her bass. I’m grateful for my purse that holds the things I need. Something ordinary and every-day. Write it down and then gather them, attaching one to the bottom of the next. During the offering, I’ll ask our kids to help me collect them.

And as we go about our week, I challenge you to look closely at the world. Find the little things that bring you joy. Focus. Be specific. Share it with us on our Facebook Page. Tell someone about it. Share your joy. Spread it around. And give your gratitude and praise to God for all the goodness of this world.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE