Reading down our editor’s list of prompting questions for the topic of the Winter issue, I feel a tug at my heart.
Why would God say to give thanks in all things because that is His will for us? Why would He will for us to give thanks? Doesn’t that seem unfair or uncaring to expect us to be thankful in all circumstances, especially when things are truly difficult?
I draw in my breath, startled to see my own private doubts appear in this list. I have asked those exact questions of God, as I’ve experienced hurt and witnessed the pain of others. Yes, God, I muse, it does seem unfair and uncaring for You to expect me to be thankful in all circumstances, especially when things are truly difficult.
I ponder that middle question: “Why would God will for us to give thanks?” Why, indeed? I reach for my Bible and flip it open to get the context of the command to “give thanks in all circumstances.” It’s last in a trinity of equally out-of-reach injunctions God gave through Paul:
“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5.18, ESV).
How can God command me to do these things, when they’re clearly impossible? But more importantly, why is it God’s will for me to rejoice all the time, commune with Him unceasingly, and thank Him in the midst of every single circumstance I face?
Because, simply, those are the best things for me. An awareness of the constant nourishing presence of God is the key to a peaceful, anxiety-free, joy-filled life. Doing these things would keep me consciously connected at all times to the Source of strong courage, perspective, beauty, love, a divine sense of humor, and so much more. Who wouldn’t want that?
I’m glad God wills the best for me, but I feel more than a little daunted. None of these things are possible—in my own strength. Then I notice the little prepositional phrase tucked between “this is the will of God” and “for you”:
. . . in Christ Jesus . . .
“This is the will of God—in Christ Jesus—for you.” Jesus is the essential connective tissue between God’s will and me. Being “in Jesus” is the empowering secret to me being able to rejoice all the time, pray without stopping, and give thanks in everything. So, if I’m “in Jesus,” I should be able to do those things—in theory, that is. In practice, it’s still a different story. How do I train my heart and mind to see through the lens of gratitude? How do I stay aware of being “in Jesus”?
I went to bed after writing that last paragraph, feeling stymied. The next morning, I woke up under the dour gray cloud of “not enough.” My internal dialogue upon reaching consciousness ran like this:
I’m not doing enough as a parent. I’m not building into my marriage enough. I’m not reaching out enough to the people around me. I’m not managing my home well enough. I’m not using my creativity enough…
Discouraged, and desperate to get rid of the cloud before starting home school in half an hour, I turned to a clean journal page and wrote “Brain Dump” across the top. I filled the page with little blurbs describing each area in which I was feeling “not enough.” Then I sat there on my bed, staring out the window at the first white, fluffy flakes of winter floating past. What do I do now, Lord? I prayed.
Last night’s question came straight back into my mind:
“How do I train my heart and mind to see through the lens of gratitude?”
I turned the page over, and started a new list. This time, I wrote something I was thankful for in each of the areas I feel inadequate: God, thank you for three healthy, good kids who (mostly) love each other; for a steady, good-natured husband who cares for me; for 16 years to put down roots and make relationships in this town; for a warm house with electricity and running water; for the opportunity to write this article; for the song I finally released a few weeks ago . . . .
My husband kindly brought me a cup of tea in bed, and I sipped the steaming liquid, feeling the cloud over my mind and heart gradually begin to dissipate as I continued thanking God. Thank you for hot tea, and my good man. Thank you for the thought of a hot shower, warm clothes to put on, homemade sourdough for breakfast.
By the time we started homeschool, I was stable again. I had grounded my heart in the goodness of God’s gifts, and through thanking Him I had discovered afresh that He was there. I reconnected with the truth that I am “in Christ,” that He is right here with me, waiting for me to realize He has everything I need. When I feel “not enough,” He is enough. When I feel less-than or inadequate, He is more than adequate—He is gloriously overflowing with sufficiency. Under the cloud of self-doubt, I have forgotten this. The way to dispel that cloud—at any moment of the day or night—is to rediscover the presence of God by thanking Him.
Regardless of what I’m facing, since my state of being “in Christ” doesn’t change, my access to His comfort, perspective, peace, encouragement, reassurance and joy doesn’t change either. My situation didn’t change this morning; becoming aware of the presence of Jesus infused me with peace. Transforming a list of “not enough” into a list of blessings enabled my heart to feel God’s love by redirecting my thoughts away from my own inadequacies and back onto Jesus, the Source of everything I need.
A few years ago, I discovered Rev. Summer Joy Gross’s version of “Immanuel Journaling,” a tool originally designed by marriage and family therapist Sungshim Loppnow to help clients metabolize emotion with God.[1] Rev. Gross’s journaling method combines Immanuel Journaling with lectio divina—a way to engage with God’s presence through Scripture by reading a short passage slowly several times—and neuroscience-informed grounding practices that reinforce healthy attachment and help me tune in and become aware of both myself and God.
About this journaling process, Rev. Gross says,
“By quieting our bodies, we choose to be present to our Emmanuel. Through interactive gratitude, we turn on our relational circuits. Then, as we repeat the Word in lectio divina, we listen to His heart for us. Finally, we allow our deep heart cry to come up before Him so we can experience His loving care.”[2]
After naming how I’m feeling and calming my nervous system, the next step is to write down what I’m thankful for.
“Abba Father, I’m thankful for . . .”
Immediately after that, I’m invited to write down an answer to this question: “How does a kind and generous God feel about your gratitude?”
I had never thought about that question before. The minute I do, I can see in my mind’s eye God beaming down on me, the same way my face looks when I watch my daughter open a birthday present I know she will really like. I hear Him say, “My sweet daughter, I love you so much. You are precious to my heart. Seeing your face turned up to mine brings me such joy. I delight in meeting your needs!” My heart begins to feel warm.
This practice of listening and writing down God’s loving response to me before engaging with His Word has helped me become more aware of His presence in the room. I sense His interest in what I’m enjoying, His delight as I notice His gifts, and the pleasure He takes in meeting my needs and so many of my wants. Thanking Him turns my face up to His and reminds me to listen for His voice responding to me in love. This strengthens the pathway of relationship and opens the door for me to truly experience His tender concern and care, as I begin to see my circumstances through His eyes.
God wills for me to give thanks, because He knows that gratitude can transform a difficult situation into a bearable one—even a joyful one—by reminding me He is with me. He knows thanking Him for the good and the hard will reignite my awareness of His presence and His promise to be strong in my weakness. Rather than this command being unfair or uncaring, God willing for me to give thanks, and empowering me to do it by placing me “in Christ Jesus,” is one of the most loving things He could do.
[1] Sungshim Loppnow, Joyful Journey: Listening to Immanuel.
[2] Summer Joy Gross, The Emmanuel Promise: Discovering the Security of a Life Held by God (Baker Books, 2024).
The featured image, “Winter Waxflower,” is courtesy of Julie Jablonski and used with her kind permission for Cultivating.
A writer, songwriter, and amateur music producer, Carolyn holds a Bachelor of Music from Wheaton College, where she pursued her twin passions for music and spiritual formation. Living overseas for the past twenty years has given her a keen interest in the connections between the inner life, the craft of making, and the art of sojourning, especially how tending her own soul affects her ability to tend the souls of others. Carolyn has contributed to an anthology of pandemic art, Beauty from Brokenness, and to Yet We Still Hope, a collection of honest, vulnerable essays by women serving overseas. You can connect with Carolyn and find her music and resources for the sojourning life at www.carolynbroughton.com.
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