In 2016, President Russell M. Nelson taught, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.” That sentence has become beloved by Latter-day Saints and is quoted frequently in general conference.
But some may wonder, What if choosing joy feels impossible? What if trials make joy feel beyond our abilities?
Lisa Valentine Clark offered an answer to that question on a recent episode of the Magnify podcast. Lisa’s husband passed away from ALS in 2020. After the agony of watching her husband’s body slowly deteriorate due to the disease, Lisa was left behind to navigate a new career and support five children whom she says were “horribly depressed.” And pandemic restrictions prevented the family from having a funeral with family and friends.
“I’ve thought about this word joy a lot, for years,” Lisa says. “I don’t take it lightly.”
Lisa wrestled with the idea that joy isn’t dictated by our circumstances. “I love [President Nelson] so much but when he said I was like, ‘I know, but stop saying it. I know it’s true, but I can’t hear it right now.’ … But it really is [true]—we are here to have joy.”
What Do We Do When Joy Feels Impossible?
So in moments when life seems to take away our ability to choose joy, what is our first step?
“I would say, make the next good choice. Nothing has to be all good or all bad,” Lisa says. She suggests that when we get bad news, we take the time we need to honor our negative thoughts and emotions. “But don’t fall in love with them,” she says, “What if … you did something else and shifted that energy?”
Lisa offered a few ways we could initiate a shift:
- Call a friend and ask for an idea of what our next good choice could be.
- Pray and ask God what our next good choice could look like.
- Plan something, even something very small, to look forward to.
Taking those steps may not eliminate our negative emotions, but small shifts toward happiness add up over time.
The Shift Isn’t Always Immediate or Easy
Early in her grief over her husband’s death, Lisa had days and weeks when making a choice to shift the energy wasn’t successful. In those moments, she focuses on leaving room in her heart for the next good choice to come later.
“The things that you focus on and cultivate and put a microphone next to are the things that are amplified. What are you going to choose? And how proactive are you going to be in that?” she says.
“It is possible [to choose joy], but it takes conscious thought. It takes a faith and an honesty before God, and it takes surrounding yourself with people who are willing to play with you and add their light and be real with you.”
Choosing Joy with ALS
Lisa’s late husband, Christopher Clark, was an example of choosing joy. Though ALS had him using a wheelchair and eventually took his ability to talk, he still sought to choose joy.
Lisa recalls him saying, “If I try to compare my life to what I had before or what I can’t do or to other people, I got very, very depressed. But I learned very quickly in my illness that if I just kept the focus on ‘Oh, God’s not punishing me this is just my life’s path.’ And then focused on the things I could still do, [on my] family, the friends, then everything’s different.’”
Lisa has learned that we are here on earth not “just to have an endless stream of happy experiences.” It can be helpful to acknowledge that some of our experiences are going to be bad. When we know that, we can start to understand the deeper joy God offers.
“Part of [having joy] is not taking yourself too seriously. [Another] part is living intentionally and having a really strong personal relationship with Christ because then you have this confidence and this assurance and peace and completeness that you can’t have in mortality without it, I think.”
Listen to the full Magnify episode with Lisa wherever you get your podcasts, or in the player below.
▶ This 1 verse in the Book of Mormon will help you stop comparing your life to others’—and find joy
▶ How can I share my pain with God without murmuring?
▶ This painting took 12 years to come to the canvas. Here’s what it teaches about grief and ongoing healing
