Six years ago, I walked onto Fresno Pacific’s campus as a freshman.
I was nervous, excited and unsure of what college would hold. I didn’t know anyone yet, and I certainly didn’t imagine I’d one day be speaking in chapel.
Looking back now, I realize that even in those moments of uncertainty, God was already writing my story in ways I couldn’t see.
That realization sparked something I’ve carried with me ever since: the stories we live in—and the ones we love to hear—point us to something greater.
Why We Love Happy Endings
Think about the stories that stay with us. They’re often the ones where good triumphs over evil, where despair suddenly turns into joy. Why do happy endings move us so deeply?
I first wrestled with that question in a small classroom in Sattler Hall, where I encountered the world of J.R.R. Tolkien—immortal elves, stubborn dwarves, hairy-footed hobbits. More than fantasy, Tolkien’s stories gave me a piercing glimpse of something greater.
Later, I came across these words from C.S. Lewis: “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world” (Mere Christianity).
That line helped me see why those stories stirred me so much. Maybe our love for happy endings isn’t about escaping into another world at all, but about recognizing a longing for the true story we were created to live in.
A Glimpse of Joy
Tolkien believed that the best stories give us what he called a “piercing glimpse of joy.” It’s that sudden, unexpected moment when the story seems lost, and then, in a heartbeat, it turns toward hope. He even coined a word for it: eucatastrophe—a “good catastrophe,” or the joyful reversal no one saw coming.
You can see it all over his works: the Riders of Rohan arriving at dawn to break the siege of Helm’s Deep, or the Eagles sweeping down to rescue Bilbo and the dwarves. Even Star Wars has its eucatastrophe when Han Solo swoops in at the last moment so Luke can destroy the Death Star.
These aren’t just clever plot twists. They’re moments that make our hearts leap because they echo something deeper. They awaken in us a longing for light breaking into darkness—not only in fiction but also in reality.
The True Beginning
That’s where Scripture steps in. John’s Gospel begins: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
John introduces the Word as the source of life and light, present with God from the very beginning. And then comes the surprise: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).
What amazed me as I reflected on that is how unexpected it was. The King didn’t arrive with armies or fanfare. He came in humility, born in a manger and choosing to walk alongside the poor, the captive, the blind and the broken.
From Sorrow to Joy
His mission didn’t unfold the way anyone expected. Isaiah had pictured him long before as “a man of sorrows, familiar with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). Jesus carried our burdens and entered into our suffering. For a moment, it seemed like the Light had been extinguished.
And then—the great turn.
On the third day, the tomb was empty. The stone was rolled away. Angels declared, “He is not here; He has risen!” (Luke 24:6).
Reflecting on this, Tolkien once said: “The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the Incarnation.” The deepest sorrow became the greatest joy. Death itself was undone.
Living in the Story
So why do we love happy endings? Because deep down, we know this world is broken, and we long for more. Stories awaken that longing, but Scripture shows us why it exists: we were made for joy in Christ.
Here at FPU, I’ve learned that we’re invited to live in that story together—not just in classrooms or chapels, but in community, in worship and in the everyday rhythms of life.
The resurrection isn’t just a past event. It’s the great turn of history, and we live in its light even now.
An Invitation to Joy
For me, that changes everything. Joy isn’t something to leave behind in chapel or in stories that stir our hearts; it’s something we’re called to carry with us.
Because one day, the story will find its final fulfillment. And when it does, it will surpass every “happily ever after” we’ve ever imagined.
Until then, we’re invited to live with imagination wide open, seeing in every glimpse of joy a reminder that the Gospel is the truest story of all.
This content was adapted from a devotional shared on September 24, 2025 during Chapel.
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