That Joy No One Can Take Away

There is a kind of joy that’s worth more than all the money in the world. A joy you can’t buy, can’t fabricate, and no one can steal. It is the joy that comes from Christ — the kind that transforms anguish into gladness, that blooms even in suffering. That joy is a sign that you’ve already found the hidden treasure.

Jesus tells us with tenderness and strength: “You are now in anguish, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you.” That joy marks the believer, lifts them above the wars of the flesh, and makes them free. Those who carry it — you can tell. Those who express it resemble Christ.

This article is an echo of that promise. A meditation not meant to explain from the outside, but to awaken a thirst within. If you are open to discover and taste, perhaps you will come to savor it too. Because this joy — like the peace that walks beside it — isn’t imposed, nor reasoned. It’s received. It’s lived. And when it dwells in the heart, it remains forever.

If you’re part of a community like Faithful, Mission & Discipleship, or Christ and Pop Culture, this reflection is written with you in mind. We live in a world hungry for meaning and worn out by false joys. What follows is a walk into the heart of Scripture — where joy isn’t a fleeting feeling, but a promise rooted in the Cross and fulfilled in the Resurrection.

From Weeping to Joy: A Paschal Reading of John 16:20–23

1. Literary and Theological Context This passage belongs to the Farewell Discourses (John 13–17), a deeply spiritual section in the Fourth Gospel. Jesus opens His heart to His friends as if offering a final testament. These are not cold instructions or moralistic speeches, but words spoken in the intimacy of the Last Supper, under the shadow of the Cross. The curtain of the redemptive drama is about to rise.

Jesus prepares His own for what’s coming: the seeming defeat, the scandal of the Cross, confusion and abandonment. Within that context, the key message is transformation — from sorrow to joy, from mourning to life, from separation to communion. John presents the Paschal theology not as an external event but as an interior transfiguration. The joy Jesus speaks of is not circumstantial but eschatological: it points ahead to the joy that flows from the victory of the Risen One.

2. “You will weep and mourn” (v.20) This short phrase plunges us into the depths of human sadness — not just any sorrow, but the sorrow of those who love and cannot understand why Love is being crucified. Fr. Raymond Brown, one of the foremost Johannine scholars, explains that this verse shows the contrast between those who belong to Christ and those aligned with the “world,” the system of opposition to God.

The world rejoices because it believes it has triumphed. The disciples weep because they love. But their weeping is not sterile: it’s the weeping that waters redemption. An echo of the Psalm: “Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy” (Psalm 126:5). In other words, Jesus doesn’t promise to remove suffering, but to transform it into a step toward fullness of life.

3. “Your grief will turn into joy” (v.20) This isn’t shallow consolation or a delayed promise of reward. The Greek verb used — metatraphēsetai (μετατραφήσεται) — implies radical transformation, like resurrection itself. What once was a cause of mourning becomes a source of joy. This is not just an emotional flip but a spiritual metamorphosis.

This joy is a mark of salvation. Those who experience it have passed through the Cross, touched the bottom, and been lifted up. They’ve tasted God’s faithfulness in the darkness. They are already saved — embraced by the Risen One, and no one can snatch them from His arms.

4. “When a woman is in labor…” (v.21) This comparison is full of tender power. Jesus doesn’t trivialize pain — He compares it to childbirth. The pain is real, the anguish intense, but it has meaning, an end, a fruit. Childbirth is one of the deepest human mysteries, and here Jesus lifts it to a theological level: redemption is a birth.

Rudolf Schnackenburg remarks that this image points to the birth of the Kingdom. John’s phrase “a human being has been born into the world” (anthrōpos) evokes the New Adam. What is being born is not just a joy, but a new humanity. In the background stands also the baptismal experience: being born of water and Spirit (John 3:5), crossing the night toward light.

5. “I will see you again” (v.22) One of the most tender lines in the entire Gospel. It’s not a vague hope or a poetic ideal — it is Jesus promising His own presence. In Johannine theology, to “see Jesus” is not merely physical sight, but communion in faith.

Rudolf Bultmann saw this “seeing” as the Paschal experience: the Risen One revealing Himself and flooding the heart with joy. St. Augustine interpreted it as the beatific vision: “They will see us and rejoice, for there will be no more death or mourning.” In any case, this “seeing again” is not a temporary reappearance — it is a transforming presence.

6. “No one will take your joy from you” This is a total affirmation. Not “it will be hard to lose it,” not “few will be able to rob it.” Simply: no one can. Christian joy is incorruptible because it doesn’t arise from mood but from relationship. It’s not the fruit of success, but of abiding in Christ. This joy is the sign that the Kingdom is within.

Those who have this joy are no longer trapped by the wars of the flesh. They live above passing conflicts, for they have found the hidden treasure. St. Francis called it “perfect joy” — not because everything goes well, but because God is present.

7. “Whatever you ask the Father in my name…” This final verse seals the message with a promise of effective prayer. But let’s understand it well: to pray “in His name” is not merely to add a formula to our petitions. It means entering into His intention, His heart, His will. It is to pray from Paschal joy, from the peace born of being transformed by the Risen One.

C.K. Barrett stresses that this reveals true spiritual maturity: praying not as slaves who beg, but as children who trust. And as children, we receive — not everything we want, but everything we truly need to reach the fullness of life in Christ.

To Carry in the Heart The joy Jesus speaks of in John 16:20–23 is not consolation prize or emotional illusion. It is an eschatological sign, a foretaste of eternity, a whisper of heaven here on earth. Those who live it — even through tears — stand upright. Even if they bleed, they are not broken. Even if they die, they live in the One who conquered death.

And that, dear reader, no one can take from you.

About the Author Abba Jimmy (Theoloscience) writes at the crossroads of Scripture, soul, and society. A Catholic priest passionate about blending theology, philosophy, and everyday life, he explores how ancient truths meet modern hearts. He believes that joy, like light, can break through any darkness — and that faith must not only be taught, but lived and sung. Follow for deep reflections rooted in Christ and shaped by what we ask.