An Inkling
Have you ever seen a child who is naturally grateful? I haven’t. Gratitude is something we learn – and not just once.
Mom says to Junior, “What do you tell Daddy for this new ball?” And Junior stares blankly. “Say, ‘Thank you, Daddy.’” So he echoes, “Thank you, Daddy.” It takes a while, but usually it becomes more than parroting. Most of us have acquired the happy habit of saying “Thank you” when someone does something nice, and usually we mean it.
But I’m not sure we go much further. Ask a child what she’s grateful for, and she’ll typically answer, “Mommy, Daddy, Max (the dog), and my new dolly.” A child’s emerging gratitude is focused on special people, critters, and toys. Ask an adult what she’s grateful for, and she’ll probably include more relationships and fewer “toys.” That’s a good step, but there’s more.
The more comes as we bring the whole of life, including the hard parts, into view as the starting place for gratitude. The One to whom we direct our thanks truly is more than a celestial Santa Claus, lavishing us with gifts. We know that. And yet stunted gratitude reveals a heart that is not much beyond that vision of God.
If the One we thank is indeed guiding the whole of our lives, directing a story line that is joyful beyond our imagining, unfolding the full import of our salvation in Jesus, and turning even the lousy parts of our stories toward blessing, then our gratitude needs to move beyond a bullet point list of obvious gifts.
It was that broader, deeper gratitude in the Pilgrims’ hearts that launched our Thanksgiving tradition. They didn’t have much in the way of tangible gifts, especially compared to us. But they had an eye for the Lord at work in the whole of their lives, and thus their gratitude grew.
May the Giver of all good things also give us eyes to see his hand at work in all things. Growth in gratitude follows. And this week is a great time to give that growing gratitude new voice.
With gratitude for you,
Keith
