Joy When the Door Is Still Locked
John the Baptist is in prison.
Not in the wilderness, not standing in the river, not calling crowds to repentance. But behind stone walls and iron bars. The prophet who cried in the desert, who pointed to Jesus and said, “Here is the Lamb of God,” now waits in silence. He asks a question that many of us know too well:
“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”
This isn’t doubt born of disbelief. It’s doubt born of faithful waiting. Of promises that seem slow to arrive. Of life’s harsh realities pressing in.
And yet, today is Gaudete Sunday—a day to rejoice.
Seeing Joy in the Locked Room
How do we rejoice when the door is still locked?
Jesus does not scold John. He does not offer a tidy explanation. He does not promise immediate freedom. Instead, he points to what is already happening:
The blind see.
The lame walk.
The lepers are cleansed.
The deaf hear.
The dead are raised.
The poor receive good news.
Joy, Jesus tells John, is not waiting for perfection. It is found in noticing the ways God is already at work. Even behind walls. Even in dark rooms. Even in slow, quiet bloom.
Waiting Like a Farmer
Psalm 146 reminds us not to place hope in princes or human plans. Our hope belongs to the Lord, who lifts the bowed down, feeds the hungry, and frees the imprisoned. And yes—John is still imprisoned when this Psalm rings true. God’s faithfulness does not depend on immediate outcomes.
James gives us practical wisdom: Be patient, like a farmer waiting for the harvest. Not passive waiting, but faithful, attentive waiting. Trusting that growth is happening beneath the soil, even if we can’t see it yet. God is near. The Judge is at the doors.
Gaudete Joy
So what is Gaudete joy?
It is not forced cheerfulness.
It is not pretending the doors are open when they are not.
It is not naïve optimism.
It is joy that endures doubt.
Joy that prays even with questions.
Joy that trusts God’s presence in locked rooms.
Jesus calls John blessed, even in prison. Blessed for trusting God’s plan even when deliverance is delayed. And we, too, are called to rejoice.
Not because everything is perfect.
Not because the doors are open.
But because God is faithful.
Because deserts bloom.
Because prisoners are not forgotten.
Because joy draws near.
This is joy when the door is still locked—quiet, defiant, trusting. And it is enough to carry us forward until the day the door finally opens.
