Something really unusual happened to me about seven years
ago. I was at an all time low in my life. I was unemployed and in economic
hardship. I was going through a divorce with Eloise’s mother, when Ella was a
tiny baby, I had broken my ankle and leg in a freak accident with no health
insurance, my chronic insomnia was at an all-time high, and I was pretty
depressed to boot. I got together with a friend of mine named Jim, who was an
older, wiser soul. He was in recovery from both an alcohol and a drug
addiction, and he had become a good friend, a sounding board, but also he was
someone who would kick me in the fanny when I needed it.
We were
having a conversation - or more
accurately – I was whining about my many sorrows and disappointments. I was
going over and over my litany of laments – the divorce, my unemployment, my
financial burdens, my lack of health insurance, my chronic insomnia, and on and
on and on. And when I ran out of breath and he had run out of patience, he
said, “Sounds to me like you need to start a gratitude journal. You need to
spend some time each and every day writing down all the things you have to be
grateful for that day.”
I was
dumbfounded and more than a little ticked off! “Haven’t you heard a single
thing I said?” I shouted. “My life is awful. I’m dying over here! And all you can
say is that I need to start a gratitude journal!” Jim held his ground. “Yep.
That’s the best thing you can do for yourself spiritually, emotionally, and
practically. Trust me. Try it.”
I was not
convinced. It reminded me of my mom’s rather Polly-annish refrain that I must
have heard a million times throughout my youth: “Count your blessings each and
every day, Toby. You have so much to be thankful for.” I used to hate when mom
said that with her syrupy smile. But for some reason I can’t quite explain – perhaps
I was just so desperate and had exhausted every other option – I tried Jim’s
idea. I actually started a gratitude journal. I placed an 8 and ½ x 11 spiral
notebook next to my bed, and every night, before turning the light off, I would
write down anything I could think of from that particular day – no matter how
tiny or seemingly insignificant – that was worth being thankful for. Maybe it
was a hug from my daughter, an unexpected call from a friend, a day’s work on a
little painting job, or just a moment of laughter during a TV show.
Some days
the list was pretty short. Other days, it was a bit longer and a little more
substantive. But as I stuck with this curious practice, I couldn’t help but
notice a few things in my life getting better. The first thing I noticed was
that I began to sleep better. Having the very last thing I thought about and
did at the end of the day be to write down my blessings seemed to ease my
worried mind a bit and slow my breathing. And I actually started to get some
sleep.
The second
thing I noticed, the more I kept with this daily practice of keeping a gratitude
journal, was that I started noticing more stuff each day to be grateful for.
I’d have a conversation with someone and I’d think, “I need to remember this
for my journal tonight.” I’d read a good book or a thoughtful article and
think, “I’m thankful for this.” Each night’s entry would get a little longer,
as I seemed to be almost training myself at a subconscious level to pay
attention to the good things that happened each and every day.
The third
thing that started happening was I would notice more people each day who seemed
to be hurting or struggling, and I’d think, “what can I do to give them a
glimpse of hope or a little something to be thankful for?” I noticed a more
generous spirit emerging within me. Here’s an example. I’ve never been much of
a tipper at restaurants. Whatever the established minimum was that’s what I’d
give. But despite my worst financial situation ever, the few times I’d let
myself go out for a meal, I’d leave bigger tips than I used to. This really
surprised me, and I didn’t fully understand it at the time. But I guess that
the more I used and developed my gratitude muscles, the more aware I became of
other people’s plights, the more compassion I felt for them, and the more I
wanted to help them. The more aware of the many tiny blessings in my life I
became, the more I wanted to be a blessing in the lives of others.
Gratitude
is a curious thing. I used to think that people either had it or they didn’t;
that people were either grateful by nature or they weren’t. But through my
friend Jim and his unusual suggestion that I start keeping a gratitude journal
at one of the lowest, saddest, and most worry-filled times in my life, I’ve
come to redefine gratitude. I see it now as a bona fide spiritual discipline, a
practice that we can actually work at and get better at. Gratitude is like a
muscle inside us that either gets exercised and thus stronger, or that goes
unused and begins to atrophy. And perhaps the strangest thing of all that I’ve
learned about this muscle, is that the best time to use and exercise it might
just be during those times when we believe we have the most to complain about
and the least to be thankful for.
Despite my
earlier views of gratitude – namely that we were either born with that attitude
or we weren’t – I now see that it’s something that is equally available to all
of us. It’s just that some of us fail to use and develop it. For 47 years, I
confess that I was one of those people who simply failed to exercise and use my
gratitude muscle. But I’m psyched to say that for the last six or seven years –
some of the toughest years I’ve ever had – I’ve developed a pretty strong
gratitude muscle…and it’s changed everything in my life.
In the
passage that Jason read for us, we heard Paul commanding the Thessalonians to “give
thanks always, in ALL circumstances.” Maybe Paul knew what I’ve only recently discovered,
that all kinds of great things result from giving thanks. Maybe Paul knew that
developing an attitude of gratitude changes more than just how we feel; it
changes how we SEE! Gratitude changes what we notice each day, helping us
notice more and more of the beauty and goodness and blessings all around us.
The story I
presented from Luke’s Gospel about the 10 lepers Jesus heals is a powerful
parable of how ungrateful we can be. Leprosy was one nasty disease. It pretty
much ruined all of the victim’s life. Your skin became hideously discolored and
actually began to fall off, and not just the outer layer either. It was
painful, puss-y and horribly contagious. Worst of all, having that disease was
something you couldn’t hide. Everyone could see it, and it made others –
understandably - terrified of you. Lepers were kicked out, banished from their
homes, from their families, from their towns – even from their temples - and
confined to the worst kind of existence you can imagine.
In just a
single moment, Jesus used his incredible compassion and power to give ten
lepers their lives back – their health back, their families back, their town
and communal existence back. With a word, Jesus gave them everything. And yet,
only one out ten of these restored, blessed people came back to Jesus to say
thank you…only one…only one.
Maybe those other nine had become
like I had become seven years ago – so familiar with their pain, so accustomed
to their sadness, so used to complaining, and so beaten down by life, that
they’d simply stopped exercising their gratitude muscle. I hope and I pray that
the same thing hasn’t happened to us. I hope and I pray that we have not
forgotten all that Jesus has done to give us our lives back – all the second
chances, all the forgiveness, all the healing when we’ve been sick, all the
beauty and love that surrounds us.
We all have
a muscle that connects our heart and our mind, and it’s called “gratitude.” Are
we using it…? Are we exercising it…? It’s a “use-it-or-lose-it” muscle, folks.
Which will it be for you?
I met a
homeless woman this week named Sonya. She came by our parish house Tuesday
morning after spending Monday night over at the Refuge. I sat down and had a
cup of tea with her as she waited, with all of her belongings in a black trash
bag and a red duffle. She was so thankful for a warm place to wait. She was incredibly
grateful that two of our church members were going to drive her up to Petoskey
and for the people of the Mary Margaret House up there that would receive her
and give her a place to rest for awhile. If a homeless woman in her sixties can
be grateful, shouldn’t we be too?
As you
know, I’ve been visiting with many of you in your homes in the past two months.
Some of you have been really sick – heart attacks, cancer, diabetes – and
you’ve still been grateful. Some of you have had your retirement years drastically
altered by having to take in grandchildren to live with you. Not exactly the
retirement most of us dream of, but you’ve been thankful nonetheless. Others of
you have lost loved ones in the last year or two – life partners, parents, even
children. And yet, I’ve seen and heard your gratitude muscles at work, even
when it would be so easy, so understandable to let them atrophy.
I want all
of you in this amazing church family to know that your gratitude in and through
such tough situations is affecting me; it’s making me even more grateful to be
here as your pastor. This tiny little church hasn’t had an easy go of it over
the years. You know that way better than I do, but I’m learning about it with
each visit I make. You all have taken your lumps – both individually and
collectively. But you keep counting your blessings; you keep your thankful
hearts; you are exercising your gratitude muscles, and it lifts me up. I think
it was Meister Eckhart, that 13th century mystic, who once wrote:
“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘Thank You,’ it will be
enough.” And it will…it will be enough. Amen.
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