Thanksgiving, 2016

Thanksgiving is such a warm, nostalgic holiday for me, just in terms of its laid-back atmosphere and its proximity to the end-of-the-year season.  Specific moments are somewhat vague -- I can remember lying on my belly drawing cartoons out in our sun porch (the toy room), and another year putting together a cardboard, punch-out farm set that my grandmother got me -- but my appreciation for the holiday is a messy bundle of pleasant, quantitative recollections of rest and family time.

That said, I know I'm not the only one who can use the holiday like a checkpoint -- a momentary pause to say thanks for my blessings and fill up my gratitude tank before heading back into my normal, humdrum way of living.  It's easy on Thanksgiving to be thankful, because it's easy to be happy when thing are comfortable.  But normal life (and sometimes holidays too) isn't always (ever?) comfortable.  Outlined below are three questions that I need to be asking myself regularly, none of which will rock anyone back on their mental heels in revelation.  However, learning to be content isn't just about accruing new practical ways to don a brave face when things are ugly.  For Christians, it's about learning deeper appreciation for the reality that has always been in front of us.

How an I practicing "24/7/365 gratitude," not just "Thanksgiving gratitude?"

I heard the story of an elderly preacher who, after years of faithful ministry, suddenly began preaching the same sermon to his congregation week after week.  At first, the people were polite and said nothing, but they all wondered if their minister was starting to show his age.  Finally, as weeks turned into months, they began to grow concerned for his mental health, and one of the trustees was nominated to approach the pastor and inquire whether or not he thought it might be time to retire.

"...because you do realize," the spokesperson said nervously, "that you've been preaching the exact same sermon each Sunday for six weeks now, right?"

Calmly, the pastor replied, "Tom, I'll move on to another topic as soon as this one actually sinks in."

Personally, I don't need the reminder to be thankful every time Thanksgiving rolls around.  I need it every day.

According to the Apostle Paul, joy and gratefulness should be among the chief, distinguishing qualities of Christ-followers (Phil 4.4).  To be anything but grateful in the face of what we have been given is to be both self-centered and incredibly short-sighted.  We all know how easy it is to set aside just one day of the year to take a deep breath and re-evaluate the silver lining.  We also know that it's much harder to maintain that spirit of peace and thankfulness on a daily basis -- largely because we have a penchant for always expecting things to go our way.  We read, "All things work together for good for those who love Him" in Romans 8.28 and conveniently ignore the fact that the biblical idea of "good" is tied to our spiritual growth, not to our personal comfort.  And in the midst of such skewed thinking, our spirits become jaded to the lessons God might be trying to teach us and we sink to begrudging the hours rather than redeeming them.

But maybe it's not just our attitude that needs to be examined.

Maybe it's our view of the Almighty.

Faith and trust are key elements in maintaining daily thankfulness for God's provision.  But they aren't just attitude words.  They're belief words.  Together, the joint exercise of faith and trust logically expresses the reality that I don't possess all the knowledge, and that there are things completely outside of my realm of control.  In that regard, maybe my struggle with gratitude is not because my faith in God is weak, but because my conception of God is.  Do I really esteem Him to be good?  Faithful?  Omnipotent?  Or have I stunted my understanding of Him by inflating my own abilities, esteem, and expectations?  Forgive the not-so-latent Calvinistic flavor, but either God is sovereign or He is impotent.  Any in-between is a contradiction in terms.  And frankly, a God who is not in control is not much of a God at all -- certainly not one to place my faith and trust in.  Certainly not one to whom thanks and praise are due.

No wonder our faith is so small if we have such small views of who God truly is and what He can do!

Here's what I know.  The same God Almighty who expends sufficient mercy and grace to all sinners also gives the necessary resources that His children need for life and joy and worship (Matt 4.4; Luke 11.13; Jas 1.17).  He is good and He is big and He is holy and He is trustworthy.  As Christians, we can rest in His sovereignty even when circumstances are poor, because our faith is placed in what is truly "for good" -- not in the stunted, shortsighted promises of American consumerist spirituality, but in the aim of holiness that our Savior has sovereignly purposed for all of His children, and in the hope of eternity spent with Him.

How am I giving thanks for the little things?

Prayer, in general, is crucial.  Without a prayer life, I'll find it impossible to be truly grateful for anything.  Specifically, praying before a meal might seem like just a mundane habit -- more like family tradition or a teaching tool for children than a genuine expression of gratitude.  However, maintaining this kind of practice is a small way to live in constant dependence upon God.  Having this kind of discipline is an indicator that I don't just run to Him in a panic when the sky is falling, but have intentionally disciplined myself to be prayerful.  When relationships fail and work is a mess and my life seems to be in shambles, there are still fragments of goodness and hope to be found in commonplace things that altogether point to the bedrock fact that God is still working.  However, if I haven't learned beforehand that there is nothing I've been given for which I shouldn't be deeply thankful, I'll find it difficult to find anything meaningful in the rubble.

Conversely, what I'm quick to complain about (i.e. NOT pray about) also shines a spotlight in the direction of my values.  It's so easy to sink into irritation and downright bitterness rather than wait for the grain of sand to become a pearl.  However, if I train myself to express gratitude when things are good, by pausing to be thankful for the proverbial "little things," I can preemptively form a habit that's hard to dislocate.  If I teach myself not to take even the most mundane things for granted, suddenly those are the things on the tip of my tongue when I'm hard-pressed to find reasons to be thankful in difficulty.  Giving thanks regularly for the dispensable things makes giving thanks at all that much easier when things become difficult.

This kind of thinking involves a large measure of training and self-discipline.  It's not our natural inclination to express gratitude, not when things are difficult, and especially not when we live in the middle of a generation that feels entitled to only the best.  I must work at expressing gratitude by engaging when I don't particularly sense a need to, so that in the future -- when the world is collapsing in around me -- I can more naturally turn to my default response.

Praying before meals, for meals, is a tiny way to do that.

How does my gratitude (or lack thereof) reflect my response to the gospel?

My perpetual emotional/spiritual state should be one of deep-seated peace and joy in what Jesus Christ has done for me.  My response to poor circumstances indicates just how deeply the message of redemption has sunk into my heart.  Am I quick to complain and find it impossible to see past the sickness, the loss, the circumstance?  Well, maybe I don't truly understand the gospel.

No matter how unbearable life becomes, no matter how badly we screw up our own plans, no matter how poorly other people treat us... as Christians we rest in the confidence of knowing that our salvation is both unmerited (on our part) and unshakeable.  I didn't earn it, and so I can't lose it.  I was a wretch to whom God showed unfathomable mercy, and now I can rest my hope in eternity and be deeply, truly thankful -- even when the present is a frighteningly miserable experience.

The reality of what we've been saved from and saved to is cause for incredible joy and thankfulness.  No more am I a lost and broken enemy of God, earning wages upon wages of destruction and judgment for my lifetime of sinful investments.  Now I am a favored child -- a rescued and redeemed saint, a member of the priesthood of all believers, part of God's ransomed family, covered by the blood of Jesus.  The righteousness that His perfection attributes to me is a permanent state, and nothing can take that away.

With that perspective in place, it is far easier to be grateful for the little things, the big things, the good things, and even the bad things.  We can be motivated to express our deep gratitude for salvation and demonstrate attitudes of joy and contentment even when everyone around us is opting to complain and despair.  It's no wonder countless ministers of the Word have historically encouraged Christians to preach the gospel daily -- to ourselves!  It is by reaffirming what the sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus Christ has accomplished that the problems of life, the universe, and everything shrink in stark, almost embarrassing contrast.

Nothing can touch what God has done.  Nothing compares to the blessing of my sin -- not in part, but the whole! -- being nailed to the cross so that I may bear it no more.

This Thanksgiving, let's pause as always to reflect and refresh.  But let's also strive to carry that spirit into the day after.  And the day after that.

Sweet Sleep

In preparing this week's lesson for my teens, I happened to re-visit Ecclesiastes 5.10-12:

He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves wealth with his income; this also is vanity. When goods increase, they increase who eat them, and what advantage has their owner but to see them with his eyes? Sweet is the sleep of a laborer, whether he eats little or much, but the full stomach of the rich will not let him sleep.

I was struck by the reminder that the proverbial love and pursuit of money isn't just something rich people struggle with.  Perhaps a weary catchall for do-it-yourself ambition, the "American Dream" it still something for which I believe all humanity has a taste.  Those in any culture who push their nose to the corporate grindstone to the detriment of personal lives and family, those who swallow hook-line-and-sinker promises of future wealth, and those who constantly chase after more and better all fit the Preacher's description of the man who won't be satisfied with his income.

The reality is that, no matter how much wealth we accrue, there will always be more to have, more to achieve, more to possess.  Once we have some, we can't be satisfied with that -- we need to keep going!  Acquire more!  Reach the next level!

Not only rich people succumb to this tendency.  Those of us who gaze longingly out the window at the mansions our commutes take us past fall into the category of "money lovers" also.

The truth is ironic and counter-intuitive: the only way to truly enjoy physical things is to put them in their proper place.

My career and the wealth, status, or security that it promises simply cannot be the most important things in my life.  In and of themselves, none will satisfy.  If, however, I value Christ the way I should and pursue him first and earnestly, suddenly my wealth is something I can enjoy, or my poverty something that is no longer a consuming frustration.  Easier said than done, certainly.  But Paul asserted that "godliness with contentment is great gain" (1 Tim 6.6).  In other words, while the world sees gain purely in terms of dollar signs, status symbols, and otherwise tangible increments, true gain and true satisfaction come only through my deepening relationship with Jesus Christ.

If my life is a ladder of trying to achieve career-based ambitions, no amount of "stop to smell the flowers," "dance in the rain," or other enjoy-the-journey-in-process memes are going to make a difference.

We all know the Biblical adage: "The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil."  I think it's relevant to note that, in other terms, the love of money is the absence of contentment.  Some see ambition as healthy forward-thinking, but when we speak specifically of financial ambition, the thin line between prospective planning and greed becomes incredibly narrow.  To be ambitious is most often to make a pursuit of wealth -- and, therefore, to think of what I currently own as not enough.

This is the very definition discontentment.  The love of money = the absence of contentment.

Furthermore, as mathematicians know, when we make comparative statements such as these, the equation works backwards and forwards:

The absence of contentment = the love of money.

Do you feel discontented with your current financial state in life?  Do you self-identify as a broke graduate student before you identify as a follower of Christ?  Do you look at the greener grass on the other side of the fence and wonder, longingly, if one day you might own that little patch of grass?  Do you tell yourself that it's not wrong to crave a little peace, and maybe one day all your financial stress will be a thing of the past?

I know these thoughts apply to me.  Therefore, I am a lover of money.  Therefore, I am not far from all kinds of evil.

Discontentment is a bigger and more pervasive problem than we as Christians like to note.  Living with discontentment doesn't mean we are simply American dreamers waiting for our due.  It means we are functional, practicing idolaters: we have placed value on something other than Jesus Christ and erroneously -- if indirectly -- believe the lie that something besides God Himself will bring satisfaction.  It means we have a shallow perspective -- certainly not an eternal perspective.  It means we have no real capacity for gratitude -- not for the blessings God liberally bestows, not for the ultimate blessing of His unfailing grace.

We desperately need to guard ourselves against this line of thinking!  To crave the sweet, secure sleep of the dedicated worker is not necessarily wrong; however, we can't make it our chief pursuit.  Instead, we must recognize that such rest is the byproduct of finding our solace, substance, and satisfaction in its only Source -- not in the careers, degrees, or possessions we pursue, but in the welcoming arms of the Savior Himself.

Financial stress got ya down?  Be patient and wait on the Lord.  He is a compassionate and understanding God who knows how to give good gifts to His children (Luke 11.13).  He cares even for the birds and the flowers (Matt 6.26, 28).  He does not abandon us in our troubles (Heb 13.5).

Just because life is hard does not invalidate these promises.  Sometimes God chooses to allow us to feel the tension of our situation so that we cling desperately to Him instead of our own wallets.

Our inability is His ability; our inadequacy His all-sufficiency.

Full belly keeping you awake at night?  Let go of your dependence on your wealth.  Give it away if you have to.  Seriously.  Jesus said that if our eyes or hands tempt us to sin, we should amputate them rather than risk the worse alternative of sinfulness (Mark 9.43).  The same principle applies to money and possessions.  Lighten the burden you're carrying or abandon it altogether: Jesus promised a far lighter load if we carry nothing but His cross (Matt 11.29).

We can truly rest only when we recognize that He is sovereign and we are not.  Whichever camp you find yourself in -- poor and craving financial stability or a wealthy insomniac or somewhere in between -- stop trying to take control back from the Almighty, either with your anxiety or your checkbook.  Stop being distracted by the world's trinkets.

We can be satisfied only when He alone is our treasure and our pursuit.

Contentment in Comfort and Catastrophe

Situational living is part of the Christian walk.  By that, I mean the daily denial of self in order to meet challenges with patience and joy, rolling with the punches and learning to appreciate each blow to the jaw as instructional.  As Paul put it to the Philippians, we should be “content in every situation” without exception (4.11).  Unfortunately, I think we miss that mark on both ends of the spectrum.  Are we content in the valleys, trusting in the provision and protection of the Father, or do we find ourselves complaining instead, pleading for a more comfortable situation?  Do we remain faithful on the mountaintops, giving glory to our Father when our lives are full of blessings, or do we allow that sense of elation solidify into complacence-facilitating pride?

The greatest thing the Lord values is consistence in His children.  The emotional and spiritual roller coaster lives we live are the product of living in an unstable world.  We shouldn't require weekend retreats to re-kindle passion for ministry.  We shouldn't crawl from Sunday to Sunday, like living paycheck to paycheck, in order to be revived in our pursuit of righteousness.  Regardless of our circumstances, our faith in the Lord should be our constant propulsion.  The passage in Revelation 3 in which Christ threatens to vomit the church of Laodecia from His mouth is less about His rejection of unbelievers than His desire for usefulness to the kingdom.  Both cold and hot water have functions, but lukewarm water stagnates.  As Matthew Henry recorded in his commentary on the New Testament, “[Just] as lukewarm water turns the stomach, and provokes to a vomit, lukewarm professors turn the heart of Christ against them.  He is sick of them, and cannot long bear them.  They may call their lukewarmness charity, meekness, moderation, and a largeness of soul; it is nauseous to Christ, and makes those so that allow themselves in it.”  Lukewarmness results from going with the flow, allowing circumstance to dictate how we live.  This type of existence is useless to God: He desires followers whose hearts praise Him in both the valleys and on the mountaintops.

The story of Job is the classic example of faith in suffering.  His life is a testament to the fact that all believers can remain faithful even in the worst of circumstances.  In one afternoon, Job lost his seven sons, his three daughters, and every last beast from his impressive herds of cattle – herds which were his livelihood.  But instead of blaming God, Job turned his mourning into worship – certainly grieving his situation, but without sinning (Job 1.20-22) -- at least, initially.

What about us?  Do we worship in spite of and because of our circumstances?  Too often we have the audacity to show contempt for the One who gives us the strength to overcome any challenge.  Because He has chosen to allow us to experience a hardship, one which is intended to grow us more into the image of His son, we feel slighted, forgetting that our God desires to work on us, to perfect us for His glory and our ultimate good.  Yet we have nothing but frustration for Him in those times.

"How dare He take that from me?"

"How dare He put that obstacle in my path when He knows I struggle with that?"

"How dare He challenge my thinking when I've understood it this way for as long as I can remember?"

We have a severely misplaced sense of ownership, right, and privilege.  We are far too prideful, and far too easily satisfied with easy physical and emotional comfort.  If we can only be “strong” Christians when living at the height of stability, what is that faith really worth?  What good is our claim to love God more than anything else if we become self-interested when our plans seem to be coming together?  In either situation, we tend to worship the gift more than the Giver, simply because the gift is more tangible: either we cling to what we have, or we crave what we lack.

I think the guy in Scriptures who had the most going for him was unquestionably Solomon.  Anyone who can spend 13 years building his mansion, who did not possess any dishes which weren't made of solid gold, and who had the opportunity to ask the Lord for anything (and, in choosing wisdom, veritably received everything) is a person who understands the allure of earthly contentment.  Predictably, Solomon's life is a paradoxical example: while he initially demonstrates the heart attitude which we as believers should maintain when life is good, he later models idolatrous behavior which we should clearly not emulate.  As a result of what he began to consider his successful reign over Israel, Solomon's heart wandered from the Lord's, and he even began worshipping other gods at the behest of his 700 wives and 300 concubines.  It is in Ecclesiastes which Solomon (likely) records the futility of such a lifestyle, acknowledging that “God gives wisdom and knowledge and joy to a man who is good in His sight; but to the sinner He gives the work of gathering and collecting” (Ecc 2.26).  Ironically, the author of Ecclesiastes now considers the accumulation of wealth to be nothing more than a chore, a delegated task to one undeserving.

Neither you nor I will know the wealth which Solomon possessed.  However, we do know his pride, because we become enamored with our own successes – no matter how small.  We want to be self-made men and women, independent and respected.  But we must remember that we owe all credit to the One who is truly in control.  If my identity is found in Christ alone, then the wealth of this world can have no hold upon my heart, because true value is found only in the pursuit of righteousness.  When life is good, I should take opportunity to express heartfelt gratitude to the Lord, not take my turn in the spotlight.

The apostle Paul gives an important reminder to the believers at Ephesus at the end of chapter 3: “Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever” (Ephesians 3.20, 21). In one breath, Paul ascribes to God the praise He so justly deserves and simultaneously reminds the reader that our Savior has given so much more than we can ever ask – or even imagine. He is the father who knows how to give good gifts, who is a “very present help in times of trouble” (Matt 7.7-11; Jas 1.16-18; Psa 46.1-3). Yet we still manage to grow discontent with His provision in the times that are less than rosy. We blame God for our awful circumstances instead of viewing them through the lens of thankfulness. We become prideful at our achievements instead of recognizing God's sovereign hand over our relative good fortune.

The fact of the matter is that we have been abundantly blessed, and despite the fact that circumstances may change around us for better or worse, that blessing does not change.  This is due to the fact that blessings do not equate to material things.  We say things all the time like, “God blessed us with this house,” which is certainly a true statement, but let us not mistakenly think that the house is the manifestation of God's blessing.   There is no profit to be had under the sun, even though everything we have is God-given (Ecc 2.11).  That house could burn to the ground, but that would not mean that God had taken away His blessing.  The true blessing we've received, God's unending love for us in the person of His Son, never fails.  We often think of the love chapter (1 Corinthians 13) as a checklist of what horizontal love amongst our brothers and sisters should emulate, but it is also a description of the vertical love which God shares with us.  His love is perfect, His love is patient, His love is kind.  His incomparable love keeps no record of wrong.   In unending gratitude, we should seek to love Him so perfectly in return.

Our yearning for a better and better relationship with God enables us to be content with nothing in this world because our love for God is unfailing, insatiable, and ultimately not tied to earthly comfort.  Likewise, when life seems to be a smooth ride, humbly seeking His face enables us to avoid complacence and self-worship.  Although this world has plenty of distractions to offer, none brings the ultimate joy and satisfaction of relationship with almighty God.

So the question then remains: in either situation, in wealth or famine, which do you love more – your God, or your comfort?  Your growth or your immediate gratification?  Your God or your god?