The Gift of Gratitude

All four children and I traveled to Wyoming last weekend to see my family, especially my ailing grandmother.  While there, my dad thanked me for tools we've given him that travel in his to-the-hills vehicle.  My heart filled, knowing that he not only remembers what we gave, but continues to be reminded of us.  I was touched by his acknowledgment and remembrance of our gifts.
And just as quickly, I was convicted of my own ingratitude.  How often do I thank God and others?  For gifts of each day? For surroundings, family and friends?  My ingratitude is a measure of self-focus.  I am more concerned with myself, my agenda and my own musings than others.  Or God.  I do not give thanks.  I do not remember His goodness.  I do not acknowledge the gifts or the Giver.  As a result, life is strained, stressful and surprisingly empty.
The experience with my dad reminded me of a discussion I had with a biblical counselor the day we left.  He said, "What do we get when God is glorified?  We get joy."  The beauty of creation or the working out of redemption is an indescribable blessing.  In the moment we see it, we are full.  Fulfilled.  Content.  Complete.  The revelation of God's goodness, majesty and power speaks.  His Spirit within convicts.  And we experience the kingdom of God.  Heaven.  Joy. 
Even as Jesus was transfigured on the mountain, his disciples saw a glimpse of His glory and fell on their faces in worship.  He is worth the praise, worth the thanks, worth the glory and honor.  And in that moment, we understand the small part we play.  His who He is apart from my existence.  He does not need my worship, but His greatness and holiness demand it.  My heart bows in reverence, not because it is mine to give, but because it is His due.  Praise is given when we have seen the Lord.  We know He that is--He that is hidden, behind the veil--and we are blessed.
In the difficult days of life, in the moments of despair, I am blessed to look upon the Lord.  To see Him high and lifted up, to see Him exalted, to visit His glory is to have joy inexpressible.  And as my grandmother struggles to manage pain and loneliness, we redirected her to that very God--the One who blesses us through our praise, the One who gives as He receives (read Psalm 71 to encourage the aged saints).  He gives grace...and joy...and hope.  He is.

Satisfaction

We set up Good News Club at the elementary school as they announced the results of the student council election.  And there were cheers.  And tears.  Accolades and best wishes.  Condolences and hugs.  It's great to win.  And it's rough to lose.
We had at least two defeated candidates in club and God had planned the perfect verse, "Be content with what you have, for God has said, 'I will never leave you.'"  It was hard to speak in the face of pain, tears and disappointment, but the gospel is always good news. 
The gospel says, "God loved me so much He gave His best, His only, as a sacrifice for me."  And as we learned the verse together and prayed, asking God to give us contentment, I had to admit that there are some things in my life that cause me to think, "If only I had (     ), my life would be better."
The kids shared their if-only's: the DX-MX454 (or whatever the newest gadget is), an ipad, an ipod, an iphone, a better friend, a bigger family, and the list went on.  But when we looked at the life of King Ahab, we saw the path of wanting what God has not given: death and destruction. 
If I really, truly believe God is God and He loves me, I will trust Him to provide what is best.  I can trust Him to provide what I need.  And I will be content--satisfied with my job, my home, my car, my body, my children, my church....  When I have a need, I will ask God and wait. And I will wait with hope and anticipation, knowing that whatever He chooses is best.
This morning that message still rang in my head as David and I read from Psalms. When it was my turn to pray, I asked God to make me more grateful.  My stinky self is never grateful, never satisfied, but God....  God is within, doing His supernatural work.  Then, as I sorted clothes for the washing machine, I was surprised to hear myself say, "Thank you, God, for the children that wear these clothes.  Thank you for the privilege of knowing them and being part of their lives.  Thank you for the gifts you've given them and the gifts they are to me."  And I knew God had answered my prayer.

The Un-Bucket List

I stopped in my tracks as I read, "And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).  It was the verse of the day above my kitchen sink, but it stayed there more than a week.
The context wasn't new.  The verse wasn't new.  But I wondered how many weaknesses or infirmities I could list in thirty seconds.  Even a minute.  I wanted to, but knew I would come up lacking.  If my weakness is truly my boast and pleasure, it should be at the forefront of my mind.  I should be able share a fifteen-minute discourse.  What I needed was an here-I-am-after-kicking-the-bucket list.  You laugh because you know that, by now, God has given me the privilege. 
A few days into my brewing weakness inventory, the morning was dreary and I wanted to sit back and do nothing. I had a couple of hours and knew I could hunker down with hot chocolate, animal crackers, and a chick flick.  The house was empty.  But thoughts of the manuscript I wanted to edit, the emails that needed to be sent, the laundry, cleaning and cooking hammered in my head.  "God, if you want me to get it done, you're going to have to move me.  I don't want to do any of it."  It wouldn't have gotten done, but it did.  I am weak.  God is strong.

To make more sense of the verse, I studied "weakness" in other Scripture passages.  In Romans, Paul wrote, "I speak in human terms because of the weakness of your flesh."  That rattled in my head for a day or two.  "The weakness of your flesh...."  And I remembered the Roman death penalty that involved tying a murder victim to the murderer's body, limb to limb, until the murderer succumbed to infection and decay. Our spiritual, "new man," indwelt by the Spirit, is incorruptible and can't be decayed, but I pictured the hand of my new man reaching out to offer compassion or care, bound to the old man's hand.  Both are visible and present. Thus the struggle with sparring motivations. When the foot of my new, Christ-filled self steps out in faith, it is accompanied by a rotting foot that seeks to go it's own way.  Moving forward requires determination, prayer and dependence on God.  This is the weakness of my flesh (and gives life to Romans 7-8).

Friday I emailed a dear friend who lived 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 the last two years.  After reading her response and enjoying the wonderful turnout we had for a bonfire with international students at our home, the light came on.  We appreciate, acknowledge and praise people for the outcome of a successful event, project or activity.  But the praise and thanks does not belong to us.  It is the "power of Christ."  Mine is the weakness; the inability to reach the goal; the incapacity to control the variables, the infirmity and ignorance that precede and intersect each interaction, each moment.  My glory, my boast, is in what I cannot do.  Why? Because as God works, He is magnified.  My inability is a directional device that points others to Him.  The results build His reputation as a powerful, loving, amazing God who works marvelously through objects that were once dead, but walk in newness of life--breathing His breath, using His eyes, thinking His thoughts, functioning as His Body. 
What a gracious, loving God to use empty vessels!  Empty.  For if we are not empty, how will He fill us?
Which begs the questions:  How empty am I?  How weak?  How aware of my pain and sorrow and brokenness?  If God is glorified in my weakness, do I know it?  Walk in it?  Glory in it?  I've started a yes-I've-kicked-the-bucket-and-this-is-how-you-know-it list.  I hope you'll join me.