While community and joy are explicitly connected throughout the New Testament, it's also pretty crucial that we have a clear picture of the messiness that comes with community.
The story of John the Baptist's birth in Luke 1 is a great illustration. Elizabeth's old and got no kids and has no business being pregnant, but because nothing is too wonderful for God, she is. And 'her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.' Awesome, more joy lived out in community.
But then they (and by 'they' the Scriptures mean the whole family) go to circumcise John and 'they' want to name him Zechariah after his papa--who can't say anything at this point because he's been struck mute after questioning the angel who told him about the baby to come (quick aside for a teachable moment: never question an angel appearing to tell you good news). Elizabeth protests that the kid's name is supposed to be John, but they argue that no one in their family has that name.
So the community that had before shared in the family's joy is now trying to get in the way of God's calling for their child. The community participateth in joy, and the community can also raineth on joy's parade. It's a tricky dynamic, this whole relationship thing on the other side of the great and terrible exchange. It constantly needs to be redeemed, righted, transformed and infused with new life in order for it to be the mechanism of joy delivery it was intended to be.
But the mess of it is not a reason to remove ourselves from it. Indeed, to retreat from community is to retreat from the image-bearing we were intended to live out. And this is a far deeper brokenness than dealing with annoying friends and family members who are too much all up in your bidness.
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