This is a time when even the most calloused and cranky of us steps back, takes stock of life, inventories the beautiful people and the sweet stuff we’re surrounded by, and gives thanks.
These gratitude lists are usually filled with things that most people would consider blessings. They’re made of friends and promotions and gifts and favor and celebration and recovery and success.
Maybe your year hasn’t felt that filled with such things, though.
In fact, you my have had a downright terrible year, or a really painful season, and maybe right now you’re bitter and exhausted and worried and grieving, and the blessing storehouse is feeling rather empty. Maybe giving thanks is a very tough sell right now.
Let me suggest an alternative.
“This has been the worst year of my life.”
I recently found myself saying this phrase out loud to a group of friends, when caught off guard and asked what I was thinking about.
On the surface, it was absolutely true.
14 months ago I lost my father suddenly to a heart attack. It was and is the single greatest loss I’ve ever experienced. The grief kicked the snot out of me repeatedly, and altered so much about who I am and what matters to me.
We spent the two months immediately following his death packing-up and preparing to voluntarily leave a ministry position that I loved, and a community that loved us back; one where my family and I had flourished and been appreciated and well cared for. We left all of it to take a chance at another community in another city, where we felt God was calling us to make a difference.
It ended quickly and sadly, and less than 6 months later we found ourselves grieving another death; the death of the new dream for our family, and we weathered some of the most damaging treatment we’ve ever experienced in the process. We found ourselves in a new town, with no plan, little joy, and with only a handful of people there who seemed to care about the condition of our hearts after we were out of sight and off the payroll.
So yes, it has been the darkest, most disappointing, most faith-testing season my family and I have ever walked through, and yes it’s been Hell at times, and many days we wanted to pack everything up and leave.
Since then, life has taken a dramatic, beautiful, soul-reviving, faith-recharging turn, and I am profoundly grateful for these days; for finding a faith community that loves and nurtures us, for making wonderful new friends, and for finding a voice and a ministry that is beyond anything I ever dreamed by millions of miles.
But that isn’t what I am most thankful for today. Those things, after all are really easy to be grateful for.
Today, I’m most thankful for the terrible things we limped through on the way here.
And I’m not talking about seeing those hurtful days with wise perspective looking backward, as the difficult but necessary path to the great place we’re standing now. They are certainly that, but that’s not why I am filled with gratitude for them.
I am grateful for my grief over my father. They say that grief is the tax on loving people, and my acute, lingering pain has reminded me daily of the deep love we shared, and of the beautiful gift of his life. Every tear and every bad moment and every breakdown has been like a visit from my father; a brushing-up against him, where the distance between us seems almost nonexistent. The tears are a tribute.
I am grateful that we were brave enough to leave comfort. I’m so proud of my family for letting go of something really great to reach out for something unknown. Even if it brought with it some really lousy, hurtful stuff, we did it with a spirit of adventure, and a trust in one another, and a faith in God. The decision confirmed for me, that regardless of the place you arrive; courage is always a road worth taking.
I am grateful that I was disliked. I remember being told quite matter-of-factly by someone I trusted and believed in at our new home, that I “didn’t fit-in”. Though it stung sharply, it caused me to look in the mirror at who I really was, and decide whether I was willing to compromise that truth, or to be who God was calling me to be as a man and a pastor. I found out that it is far better to be disliked for who you are, than loved for who you are not. Integrity is indeed the softest pillow. If you can rest in your efforts and your motives and your honesty, that’s a blessed place to land.
I am grateful that I was fired. It’s an incredibly painful thing to be told you’re not wanted; that despite your best and most sincere offering, and regardless of all the sacrifice and service you’ve expended, that your presence isn’t valued. But for me, in that rejection was a release; the un-tethering of something important that had been grounded. Being “let go”, was actually being cut loose. I remember the day not long ago when my wife said, “Getting fired was the greatest thing that ever happened to you”. I didn’t have to ask how that was so. I knew.
I am grateful that my family felt alone and scared. There were many days when it felt like just the four of us against the world, and though it isn’t a way I’d like to live for very long at all, I realized just how strong we are together, and how much real love is a shield against the slings and arrows that come at you as you move through this place. If all you have is one or two people who love you in this life, that’s still a really great deal.
I am grateful for the days when we had no idea what to do. They say that a tree grows the most in winter, as its roots dig down into the earth for sustenance and stability. The death of my father, and the loss of the dream, and the tossing-out of the plan, reminded me how little we really control, and how much faith really is worth. I learned in a profound way, just what it means to walk by that faith alone, and not by what you eyes or mind can make sense of.
I am grateful for the low places and the dark nights of the soul. My faith in God is different now than it was a year ago. I can’t describe exactly how, but it’s richer, it’s deeper, and it’s more real, even where it’s less clear or defined. I’ve learned to trust in the goodness of God even when things don’t seem very good, and in doing the right thing relentlessly, even when right is not always done to you.
That’s honestly a lot more than I wanted to share or feel comfortable sharing, but I wanted you to know that I really mean what I say, when I tell you that right now where you are; even if it seems, or really is horrible and awful and painful, that there is still reason to have true gratitude; not just for the things other than those horrible, awful, painful things, but for those things themselves.
The very bad circumstances you are experiencing right now, are sending you deeper; calling you to a greater strength, and a stronger faith, and a more courageous spirit.
That severe adversity is a sacred invitation.
As I spoke to my friends that day recently, I continued my thought: “This has been the worst year of my life… but I’ve learned that even the terrible things are worth giving thanks for.”
Yes, even if life is incredibly difficult right now; be encouraged that this difficulty is still worth treasuring.
Look at those horrible, awful, painful things in front of you unflinchingly; and give thanks.
Cultivate gratitude.
