Gratitude

November is here. The air is crisp, my kitchen smells like cinnamon and chai spice, and ‘Tis Autumn begins to play softly in the background of my mind with every glimpse of color in the trees. Driving through town, I see a contrast of seasonal decor displayed proudly under porch lights: pumpkins and scarecrows wave neighborly to the twinkling pine trees and the gingerbread families across the street. Little ones play in the yard while bundled tightly in their coats. Inside, the kettle is prepared for hot cocoa and apple cider. Though the air outside is cold, the world actually feels a little warmer.

Little things seem to matter more to us when November settles in. Family is sweeter. Food tastes better. Jokes are funnier. We find in our hearts this lovely disposition called gratitude. We try our hardest to stop taking things for granted. Things like the kindness of a stranger in line at the grocery store that had mercy on our “I-don’t-think-I’ll-need-a-basket” juggling act. Things like a kind smile or a text from a friend. Things like a hug from Mom or a song to sing. Things like a breath; a chance, a life. These are gifts that cannot be earned. They are not wages for which we can labor or bargain. They are the kindness of the heart of Heaven on display. May they serve as daily reminders that every good and perfect gift is from above.

These good and perfect gifts are so easy to identify when they carry the same sweetness as the moments previously described. But, not every good gift leaves a good taste in our mouths. Unfortunately, friends, some cakes are sugar-free and so are some circumstances. Life is not always sweet. We are bound to taste the bitterness of misfortune from time to time.

The cliches of our culture speak to this phenomenon. For generations, we’ve seen the parallel drawn between life and the highs and lows of mountaintops and valleys. Your favorite worship song probably has those two words tucked somewhere within the lines of its lyrics. This comparison is present and occasionally redundant because it is among the most relatable concepts ever penned or spoken of to date. We all love the mountain’s crested peak. We all dread the valley deep and low. We’re all human in that way.

Whether you like to figuratively view your hardship as a valley or a sugarless dessert is entirely up to you. The bottom line is, none of us crave difficulty. We may enjoy a challenge, but misery isn’t on the vision board of our lives. Our lofty goals rarely include the struggles that it takes to accomplish them. So what happens when we bite into the cake and discover that it’s sugar-free? What do we do in the valley where the crest of the next mountaintop is nowhere to be seen?

I have personally been facing a season unlike any other that I have experienced in my life. My heart, my faith, and my worldview have been challenged in ways that I never anticipated. I have felt alone. I have spent moments rattled by fear. I have had more questions than answers. I have searched every crumb of this cake in pursuit of an ounce of sweetness and have been met by a thousand unpalatable flavors. But, my search has not been in vain. Deep within the stirring of my circumstances and my heart, I have found the most radical of feelings: gratitude.

This gratitude is sourced, not by the sweetness of situation, but by the sweetness of the notion that the God of Heaven is present in it, and that He loves us enough to submit Himself to the obedience of suffering. Jesus chose to be a Creator that walked among His creation. He dawned a robe of flesh, experiencing grief firsthand. He willingly partook of the cup that laid the heavy burden of our sin on His shoulder. He wrestled selflessly with the weight of our shame. He faced consequences He did not merit. And He wrote His own narrative in such a manner that prevents us from ever truly being alone. He has felt what we feel, and He has made a way through it. For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.

I am grateful to serve a God that would afford me the privilege of not only knowing Him in the power of His resurrection, but also in the precious fellowship of His sufferings. Peter’s words echo loudly through the corridors of my heart: Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when His glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy. Suffering shapes us into vessels equipped to carry glory.

To be crafted in the image of God and to bear His glory to the world is a far greater privilege than it is an inconvenience. If discomfort is the cost of an intimate covenant with Christ, it is a price I am grateful to have the opportunity to pay. When I shift my perspective from the temporary nature of this life and look through the lens of eternity, the desires of my heart become simplified. I just want to know Jesus, to be known of Him, and to make Him known. No matter the avenue we take to arrive there, it is sweet to know Him, friends. And remember that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

November is here. The table is set. The turkey is roasted. Our loved ones have gathered close. And in the spirit of Thanksgiving, may we find the courage to show gratitude for both the sweetest of joys and bitterest of hardships alike. May we learn to recognize and treasure every experience that draws us closer to Christ. May gratitude ever be the song of our hearts.