When the Whole Stadium Forgot Themselves

On November 2, 2016, the Chicago Cubs won the World Series for the first time in 108 years. Fans who had inherited their loyalty from grandparents who never saw a championship — fans who had waited through decades of heartbreak — erupted into something beyond ordinary celebration. Outside Wrigley Field, strangers embraced strangers. Grown men wept openly. A crowd estimated at five million people filled the streets of Chicago for the victory parade, making it one of the largest public gatherings in human history.

What struck reporters wasn't just the noise. It was the abandon. Accountants danced on car hoods. Elderly women who could barely walk lifted their arms and shouted. Nobody worried about looking foolish. The joy was so overwhelming, so long-awaited, that self-consciousness simply evaporated.

The psalmist understood this kind of joy. "Sing to the Lord a new song, for He has done marvelous things," David writes. "His right hand and His holy arm have worked salvation for Him." This isn't polite, reserved applause. The Hebrew word for "shout joyfully" in verse four carries the force of a war cry, a full-throated roar that holds nothing back.

The Almighty has done what no one else could do. He has revealed His righteousness before the watching nations. And the only fitting response is the kind of joy that makes five million people forget themselves entirely — because what God has accomplished deserves nothing less.