There’s something strange about joy. You’d expect it to show up only when things are going well—when life is smooth, and the sun’s out. But in Scripture, joy often comes in the middle of struggle. Not after the storm has passed, but sometimes right in the middle of it. That’s especially true when we talk about the kind of gladness that flows from salvation.
For believers, gladness isn’t just about emotions. It’s about something deeper, something rooted in knowing that God sees, God saves, and God stays.
When Joy Looks Like a Song After Slavery
Think back to the Israelites in Exodus. After years of slavery in Egypt, they were finally free. But the joy didn’t come right away. First came panic—trapped between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea. Then came a miracle. The sea split open, and they walked through on dry ground. When they reached the other side and saw the waters crash back over their enemies, their response wasn’t silence. They sang.
Moses and the Israelites sang this song to the Lord: “The Lord is my strength and my defense; he has become my salvation” (Exodus 15:1–2).
It’s easy to sing when the battle is over. But it’s not just the victory that brings the song—it’s the recognition of who brought it. God didn’t just rescue them from a bad situation. He brought them out by His own hand. That’s where the joy comes from.
David: Joy in the Middle of Waiting
David’s story reads like a rollercoaster. One moment he’s the hero who slays Goliath; the next, he’s hiding in a cave, running from a jealous king. And yet, in Psalm 13—a short, raw, honest cry—David shifts from deep sorrow to joy, almost without warning.
“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation” (Psalm 13:5).
What stands out isn’t that God changed David’s situation. He didn’t—not yet. But David made a choice: to trust God’s love, even while the danger still lingered. The word he uses, “rejoices,” feels like a stretch. But maybe that’s the point. Joy, here, is an act of faith. Not something that bubbles up when things are fine, but something held onto even when they’re not.
Isaiah: Drawing Joy Like Water
One of the more poetic images of joy comes from Isaiah.
“With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation” (Isaiah 12:3).
The verse doesn’t say, “You will have joy when salvation comes.” It says you draw joy from it—like water from a deep well. The idea here isn’t just about the moment of being saved, but the ongoing access we have to God’s presence, His help, and His peace. In dry seasons—and there are many—this image reminds us that salvation isn’t a one-time rescue. It’s a source we return to again and again.
Some scholars suggest that Isaiah’s language connects to the Feast of Tabernacles, where water was drawn from the pool of Siloam as a reminder of God’s provision in the wilderness. If so, then this image of joy isn’t abstract—it’s tied to memory, tradition, and lived experience.
A Baby’s Cry and Heaven’s Song
Fast forward to the New Testament. A group of tired shepherds, doing their night shift in the fields, gets interrupted by a blinding light and a heavenly announcement.
“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people” (Luke 2:10).
The angel doesn’t offer a strategy or solution. He points to a baby—a Savior born in a manger. The joy is not in the comfort of the setting (a stable isn’t glamorous) but in the identity of the child. Jesus’ arrival marks the beginning of the greatest act of salvation history has ever known. And the news isn’t just personal—it’s for all people.
But joy, even here, has a weight to it. Mary and Joseph still had a hard road ahead. Herod would soon send soldiers to kill. Jesus’ path would lead to the cross. Yet this was still joy—because it was grounded in God’s plan, not comfort or ease.
Joy That Doesn’t Wear Out
Paul’s letters, especially Philippians, are full of this strange joy. He writes:
“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4).
And he says this from prison.
It may seem unrealistic—or even insensitive—to tell people to rejoice when they’re struggling. But Paul isn’t asking us to ignore pain. He’s reminding us that joy isn’t based on everything going right. It’s based on a relationship with God, who doesn’t change. His salvation doesn’t expire. His promises still stand.
Maybe that’s why joy in Scripture often feels quiet, steady, and deep. It’s not loud cheerfulness. It’s peace that holds even when things fall apart.
So, What Does This Mean for You?
You don’t have to fake a smile when life hurts. Joy in salvation doesn’t ignore pain. It doesn’t deny loss or skip grief. But it reminds us that we aren’t alone. God is near. He saves. He keeps showing up. Whether you’re standing at the edge of a sea, hiding in a cave, drawing from a dry well, or sitting in the dark with questions—He’s still God.
And that’s where the gladness comes in.
Not because life is simple. But because God’s salvation is sure. And it’s still enough.
“The joy of the Lord is my strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).
Let the gladness of God’s salvation be your anchor. Sing in the storm. Trust in His Word. Draw from the well. And rejoice—not because life is easy, but because God is good. Always.