My friend Elizabeth received this email from her neighbor:
"Words are almost inadequate to express how I felt reading your e-mail. Every
day, as we are granted to live and go on, we collect a little bundle that makes
us grow and be just a bit of a different person from yesterday. You, on the
Boston Marathon collected a very large bundle. Please do not let that weigh you
down, but inspire you to move forward and give every day your all. "
The only faithful response I know this week is to dig into gratitude
and give thanks for the gifts that I have been given.
counting these gifts below....
I’ve learned that counting gifts, seeing God’s
goodness, doesn’t necessarily make the sadness go away. We live in a world
that is broken by sin. There are things that can and should break our
hearts and make us sad. It’s called lament and, throughout the pages of
scripture, there seems to be an awful lot of it.When I count the gifts,
when I see glimpses of God’s goodness amidst the sadness, I’m no longer
frightened by it or worry I’ll be consumed by it. I can stare directly
into the sadness and yet worship. I’ve learned:Lament is a kind of worship
that says, “This is wrong, but I know You are good.” - http://outofmyallegedmind.blogspot.com/2011/06/reaching-one-thousand-lessons-learned.html
I have hacked my
life up into grace moments and curse moments. The chopping that has cut myself
off from the embracing love of God who “does not enjoy hurting people or
causing them sorrow” (Lamentations 3:33), but labors to birth grief into greater
grace. Isn’t this the crux of the gospel? The good news that all those living
in the land of shadow of death have been birthed into new life, that the
transfiguration of a suffering world has already begun. That suffering nourishes grace, and
pain and joy are arteries of the same heart—and mourning and dancing are but
movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty. Can I believe the gospel, that God is patiently
transfiguring all the notes of my life into the song of His Son?..... God is
always good and I am always loved….All is grace because all can transfigure… One
Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp pg 100-101
I am a hunter of
beauty and I move slow and I keep the eyes wide, every fiber of every muscle
sensing all wonder and this is the thrill of the hunt and I could be an expert
on the life full, the beauty meat that lurks in every moment. I hunger to taste
life. God.
One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp pg 71
Gratitude bestows
reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent
moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world. –
Sarah Ban Breathnach
Thanksgiving,
giving thanks in everything- is what prepares the way for salvation’s whole
restoration. One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp pg 40
How To Find The Holy Grail of Joy
It's strange how we'd rather live tripping and stumbling
than murmur that one word.
I came into this world the way every person on the planet
does -- with clenched fists. Gratitude's not a natural posture. The prince of
darkness is ultimately a spoiled ingrate and I've spent most of my life as kin
to the fist-shaker.
Oh, I've had my reasons to gripe. Bad days. Broken
dreams. Bickering kids. And long before all that, a sister's skull crushing
under the tires of a truck. I was standing beside my mother and we witnessed it
all, all her blood seeping into the thirsty ground. We buried her and any
remaining notion of grace. Losses like that can bring the worst kind of sickness
-- the bitterness spreading.
Augustine claimed that "without exception ... all
try their hardest to reach the same goal, that is, joy."
The wild crusade of my life has been just this -- this
straining after elusive joy while the virus of bitterness, of ungratefulness,
keeps destroying.
I wasn't feeling particularly in need of a cure when I
took up a friend's silly dare to write down a thousand things that made me
happy. I knew she was just goading me, a way to prove that I had plenty of
things to enjoy. So I grabbed a notebook. And began scribbling down whatever
made me smile. Morning shadows across old floors. Jam piled high on toast.
The cry of a blue jay high in the spruce.
It didn't seem I was fixing anything in the beginning.
But each day I kept at it. It was easy and it made me happy, so I kept going.
Every day I'd number another five, another ten, and the
game became a hunt, to see if I could find a bit of God's glory in my days.
Washing dishes, at the stove stirring soup, I'd see the afternoon light spark
on the rim of a pot and it'd spark me. I'd wipe my hands on my apron and reach
for the pen. Although the world is ugly, it is beautiful.
I was waking up. Something in me started to stir. I
realized how numbed and jaded I'd become. And I couldn't stop scratching it
down -- blessings, graces ... God in the moment. Why hadn't I realized that joy
was right in the middle of life, unlocked in the moments? Where did I think it
should be? After all, it's only moments that make up a life. And if the riddle
of life isn't unlocked in the moments, where is it found? Do not disdain the
small. The whole of the life is made up of the minute parts, and if the
infinitesimals are missed, the whole is missed too. Maybe I was starting to
find what I couldn't miss?
Because what if the holy grail of joy isn't somewhere
else but in the small things, in the moments? Maybe the secret was just this:
to keep seeking God where we doubt He is.
For more than a decade research has been confirming it: "People are 25 percent happier if they keep gratitude journals compared to persons who are not keeping these journals, achieve up to a 10 percent reduction in systolic blood pressure, and decrease their dietary fat intake by up to 20 percent." I've found it true too: ink and a gratitude list can be cheap, potent medicine. It's written directly into our DNA, this need to give thanks, to give God His due.
For more than a decade research has been confirming it: "People are 25 percent happier if they keep gratitude journals compared to persons who are not keeping these journals, achieve up to a 10 percent reduction in systolic blood pressure, and decrease their dietary fat intake by up to 20 percent." I've found it true too: ink and a gratitude list can be cheap, potent medicine. It's written directly into our DNA, this need to give thanks, to give God His due.
Counting one thousand gifts, I discovered I could count
on God. But this wasn't any Pollyanna-journey but a pilgrimage to the table of
the Last Supper and Christ giving thanks for the incomprehensible, a journey
right into the crux of the Christian faith and the very essence of what faith
means. How can God be intimately experienced in circumstances of great
suffering? How do we deal with the pain of our losses authentically and
honestly? What if saving belief means something very different than what we've
lived?
I was chronicling my second thousands of blessings when I
sat at my sister's grave in spring. I still don't know why little girls die
violent deaths. Why babies are born in filthy shacks and garbage dumps, and why
mothers are ravaged with cancer and tragedy rips open whole nations to bleed.
But I do know this: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give
thanks for grace. Rejecting joy to stand in solidarity with the suffering
doesn't rescue the suffering, but rather it's the converse that does. How does
it save the world to reject joy when it is Joy Himself who saves us? I have yet
to see bitterness better the world.
It's only when we wake to how blessed we are, when we
take life as grace and give thanks for it, that we become the bread to be given
to a starving world. This is our great weapon in the war.
I ran my hand across the engraved letters of my sister's
name, her name that meant beloved. Instead of bitterness, I felt a new thing. I
felt my hand opening to receive the gift of His will, the gifts He brings out
of it all. I could live like this, I thought, that one word "thanks"
on the tongue.
The grail, there at my lips.
Ann Voskamp is the author of 'One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live
Fully Right Where You Are' (Zondervan)
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