A Culture of Gratitude

In the black of before-six this morning, I woke riveted by a thought.

I grew up in a culture of gratitude. At home, at church, I always heard, “Thank you.” Thank you for what You’ve given us. Thank you for the abundance of clothes and food we have which so many people don’t. Thank you for parents who loved us and taught us about You. Thank you that we can come together to worship in freedom, when so many people are beaten and imprisoned and cowed for their faith.

I grew up feeling incredibly blessed. I thought I was one of the richest people alive, both physically and spiritually.

That fairy dust lingers over me still. I find the courage to meet life; feel constantly beholden to others and obligated to give, because I am one of the privileged ones. I have. Therefore I can conquer. Therefore I can contribute.

It took impact with hard adult life—took my own jealousy and ambitions—to teach me that gratitude is an attitude, not a given. For my family, my parents, for all people—yes, we are blessed. But we are blessed because we notice it, not because we have more than anyone else who also notices.

The apostle Paul wrote that entire cultures lost a knowledge of God for the simple reason that they were not thankful. The essence of a belief in God is a belief that you have been given incredible gifts by a power larger than yourself—gifts like love, faith, courage, prayer, and enjoyment in living—and you want to say thank you.

If I ever have children, I want to give them this thing my parents gave me: a way of looking at life that understands a small corner of its magnitude and says, “Thank you.”