At Desiring God, we call ourselves Christian Hedonists. We do so with a smile.

We know it’s a provocative term. We think it’s worth the provocation because the reality we seek to name and commend is so vital, so central, so wonderful. We’re willing to take the risk of being misunderstood by a few in order that new life-giving, soul-thrilling understanding might come to, and be sustained in, many.

By “Christian Hedonist,” we mean someone who believes that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him. Which means, then, that the pursuit of my joy in God is not only allowed in the Christian life, and not only encouraged, but in fact it’s required. Joy is not only optional; it’s essential. We do not glorify God as he deserves if we do not enjoy him as he deserves.

Twenty-five years ago, I was a freshman at Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina, when I first encountered the term “Christian Hedonist.” I saw it on the cover of John Piper’s book Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist. I read this in the second paragraph of the preface:

The heroes of this book are Jesus, who “endured the cross for the joy that was set before him”; and the apostle Paul, who was “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing”; and Jonathan Edwards, who deeply savored the sweet sovereignty of God; and C. S. Lewis, who knew that the Lord “finds our desires not too strong but too weak”; and all the missionaries who have left everything for Jesus and in the end said, “I never made a sacrifice.”

Now, those are some great heroes. But in these few minutes, I want to focus on that first hero, the great hero, the only hero of Christian Hedonism that we worship.

Becoming a Christian Hedonist

In those early days of encountering Christian Hedonism, Hebrews 12:2 was so important for me. I needed verses. I needed to be convinced. I was not won easily by “the Piper’s call.”

I was more the stoic than the hedonist when I came to college. And so, my initial response to any sort of hedonism, even if you put Christian on the front, was skepticism. I needed Christian convincing. I needed Bible texts.

Among the many texts I newly encountered in those days, Hebrews 12:2 almost sealed the deal on its own. I say almost because the cumulative effect of passage after passage was just too much of a tidal wave to pretend it all came down to one verse. But if someone said, with a gun to my head, “What one verse do you find most compelling?” I think, with a little reflection, I would have said Hebrews 12:2.

Why? Because Hebrews 12:2 is about Jesus. “For the joy that was set before him [he] endured the cross.” If this is how Jesus lived, and how Jesus went to the cross, then how could this not be God’s design for the very essence and heart of the Christian life?

The cross is the ultimate test — which, for me, seemed to make Hebrews 12:2 the ultimate text, at least as it concerned Christian Hedonism.

The cross is the single greatest accomplishment in the history of the world. And Jesus, the God-man, is the single greatest man who ever lived. So, whatever motive or psychology or ethic got Jesus to the cross, whatever fueled and sustained his endurance, whatever made possible the greatest act and accomplishment in history — and that for the redemption of sinners, including me — that’s what I needed to know, and that’s how I wanted to live.

And Hebrews 12:2 says that Jesus endured the cross “for the joy that was set before him.” That’s the motive, the psychology, the ethic: the holy pursuit of joy! So, that’s it, right? Case closed: Christ himself is the ultimate Christian Hedonist. Hebrews 12:2 settles it.

Stoic or Hedonist?

But hold on just a minute. I came to find out that there’s a check in the minds of some people. As much as I loved Hebrews 12:2 and sought to live Hebrews 12:2, and often quoted it to others, I soon learned there was a “translation issue” for some: an unexpected preposition.

The word for “for” (in “for the joy set before him”) is the preposition anti, which also can be translated “instead of” (as in Luke 11:11: “What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent?”).

In some contexts, anti clearly means “instead of.” In others, it clearly means “for the sake of.” But at first glance, it’s not immediately plain in Hebrews 12:2. So, here are the two readings:

[Jesus] for the joy that was set before him endured the cross. [Joy is in the distance, with the cross between him and the joy set before him.]

Or:

[Jesus] instead of the joy that was set before him endured the cross. [Joy is at hand, and unless he forsakes the joy set before him, he will not go to the cross and accomplish his Father’s will.]

Hopefully you hear the difference. These two are opposites. One casts joy as an incentive for enduring the cross. The other casts joy as an enticement away from the cross. One says he did it for his joy; the other says he did it despite his joy. One is hedonistic; the other is stoic. So, which is it?

I’ll admit that, as a seminary student, this felt threatening. If you have tunnel vision on verse 2, you might say, “Oh my, what if I’ve been reading this precious Christian Hedonistic verse wrong? What if joy wasn’t Jesus’s holy motive for going to the cross, but the pursuit of his own joy was the temptation he had to overcome to do his Father’s will? If Christian Hedonism wasn’t true for Jesus, does that mean it’s not true for me?”

Now, I don’t think we lose Christian Hedonism if we lose Hebrews 12:2. But I don’t want to lose Hebrews 12:2. And I don’t think we do. So, here’s how I want to finish our next few minutes.

“Nowhere does Hebrews appeal to us to forsake joy for mere duty.”

First, we need to address this question: What does Hebrews 12:2 really say? I want to give you four reasons, from the context, why we can be confident that Hebrews 12:2 means “for the joy that was set before him.” I do believe that this verse is a powerful, one-verse case for Christian Hedonism, and for your embracing the pursuit of joy in God as the central, energizing motive of your life.

Then, very briefly, I want to end with what Hebrews 12:2 shows us about Jesus, and what it means for us.

What does Hebrews 12:2 really say?

When you look only at verse 2, it can be tough to get your bearings on our question. But when you broaden out your vision, even slightly (to all of Hebrews 12, and one key text in Hebrews 11), then you get a very solid and sure sense of what Hebrews 12:2 means.

So, let me point out at least four reasons from this immediate context for Jesus enduring the cross, not instead of the joy set before him, but precisely for the joy set before him.

1. Our Race

The previous verse includes the same idea of something being set before, or something lying before (and it’s not something at hand, but in the distance):

Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us. (Hebrews 12:1)

We have “the race . . . set before us” in verse 1, and “the joy . . . set before him” in verse 2. They shed light on each other. This is an athletic image: runners in a race with a prize at the end. A race has a future orientation. The road, the path, the track keeps going on to the finish. What’s “set before” a runner, in the distance, is the finish — the reward at the end. So, verse 1 is a powerful nod to “for the joy,” rather than “instead of the joy.”

2. Esau’s Failure

Later in this same chapter, Hebrews uses this same anti preposition again, and it’s his only other use of it in the letter. In Hebrews 12:16, it clearly means “for” rather than “instead of.” Verse 16 says,

Esau . . . sold his birthright for a single meal.

He didn’t sell his birthright instead of a meal; that doesn’t make sense. Rather, he sold it for a single meal. Or you might say, Esau sold it to obtain food. The prospective meal was his prize, his reward, his joy — and so, looking ahead to the meal, he traded his birthright. So, in verse 16, in the same chapter, the only other use of anti in Hebrews clearly means “for the sake of” a future, anticipated joy or prize.

3. Training’s Incentive

Still staying in the chapter, look at Hebrews 12:11: “For the moment all discipline [training] seems painful rather than pleasant” — literally, “does not seem to be joy but pain”; “joy,” chara, is the same as 12:2, one of four occurrences in Hebrews, all four being positive — “but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.”

Verse 11 clarifies what Hebrews is trying to instill in his readers. Your future will be happier, more peaceful, and more fruitful if you endure the discomfort of training rather than giving up. It’s an appeal to joy. The writer of Hebrews wants his readers to look ahead, by faith; to look to the reward, to the prize at the end of the race; to consider the later yield of joy, of peace, of fruit, and so to endure in the present trying, painful training. That’s the ethical burden of Hebrews, and that’s the lesson he hopes for his readers to draw from Jesus — not the opposite. He does not call us to forsake joy in God in order to obey, but to obey through holy joy.

4. Moses’s Example

Maybe the most significant of all is Hebrews 11:24–26. Those who take 12:2 as being “instead of” point to Hebrews 11:24–25:

By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin.

They say, “See, it’s just like that. Rather than enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin — that is, instead of the joy set before him — Moses chose mistreatment with the people of God. It was the same for Jesus: Instead of enjoying the fleeting pleasures of sin, instead of the joy set before him, Jesus endured the cross.”

At first, that seems like it works. But it leaves out Hebrews 11:26. And verse 26 tells us why Moses did not choose to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin: precisely because he was choosing the greater joy. Verse 26:

[Moses] considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward.

In other words, he did it, in the end, for his joy. And when you take a step back and consider the whole book of Hebrews, the case is closed. Nowhere does Hebrews appeal to us to forsake joy for mere duty. Rather, the very drumbeat of Hebrews, from its opening verses, is the refrain “better.” Jesus is better, Jesus is better, Jesus is better.

Yes, sin offers fleeting pleasures. But they are fleeting! Faith looks to eternal pleasures. Sin tempts with thin, hollow joys. Faith looks to thick, solid joys. Over and over again, Hebrews emphasizes that faith’s joys are better, better, better. Faith does not reject holy joy for mere duty. Faith tastes in Jesus a deeper, thicker, richer, more enduring joy than what sin can offer.

Let me close, then, with our two brief implications: one about Jesus, the other about us.

What does it mean for Jesus?

The banner over this event tonight is “Unusually Human.” In what sense was (and is) Jesus “unusually human”?

First, we should say, he is fully human: fully divine and fully human. As true man, he has a fully human body, emotions, mind, and will. Hebrews says that, to rescue us, Jesus “had to be made like [us] in every respect” (Hebrews 2:17). And it also says, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). Okay, so he is “without sin” — that’s unusual. There’s one way Jesus is unusually human: He is without sin.

But the unusual humanity highlighted by Hebrews 12:2 is that Jesus endured suffering for the joy set before him. That’s unusual. To seek joy is one thing; to endure suffering is another. Most humans do whatever they can to avoid suffering. If we’re pursuing some goal and encounter suffering, we might just fold when the obstacles of pain or shame emerge.

But Jesus looked beyond the pain, beyond the shame, to the joy set before him. And through tasting that joy, by faith — despite the excruciating obstacles of pain and shame — Jesus endured, and finished his race, and achieved the single greatest accomplishment in the history of the world. His obedience was both fully human, and unusually so.

What does it mean for us?

Finally, then, what about us?

We could say many things, but I’ll end on just one, which leads into what we’ll hear from John in a few minutes: how we handle suffering.

How we respond to pain and shame are opportunities to be unusually human like Jesus, rather than typically human like the world. The life of Christ, death of Christ, and motivating joy of Christ are a call to be unusually human in pursuing a joy that glorifies him, and especially so in suffering.

The call to Christian Hedonism is not a call to pursue our own joy like the world does. At Desiring God, we love to add this clarifying phrase: “especially in suffering.” The joy we’re talking about that glorifies God is a different kind of joy than the world experiences apart from Christ. As John says in Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ,

The carefree merriment of a ballroom gala and the irrepressible joy in a Russian gulag are not the same. One is trite, the other triumphant. One is glib, the other glorious. There is a pasted smile that has never known pain. And it does not make for a good pastor or a great Savior. But Christ is a great Savior. (37)

Jesus was unusually human in how he responded to threat of suffering and shame. And he calls us, and empowers us by his Spirit, to join him.