If the only prayer you said in your whole life was “thank you,” that would be sufficient. ~ Meister Eckhart
During each summer's pilgrimage to visit family in Indiana we travel across I-64, which is a rolling stretch of southern Indiana interstate that moves along an obscure piece of woolly wooded hills called the Hoosier National Forrest.
On this particular day as we headed east on 64 with Angie and the kids asleep in the back of the van I was caught off guard by the extreme green of the thick woods. After an unusually wet spring the immense patches of trees and grass were as deep of a green and as I’d ever experienced. I found myself ridiculously captivated at the scene emotionally overwhelmed feeling like that mystical moment of beauty was given as a gift specifically for my eyes. And the only response I could utter to God as I drove along was a simple “thank you” silently repeated probably 100 times over.
My response reminded me of an encounter I had with a homeless man a few weeks ago. I had agreed to give my street friend, Steve, a haircut and shortly after I finished his cut the news leaked and I’ve dished out several haircuts to the Denver street community since.
Since that first trim there's been a particular haircut I won’t soon forget. His name was Ron and as I was wrapping up I stepped back to inspect my work and I noticed him sadly staring straight ahead unable to fight back a couple of tears that reluctantly escaped his weathered eyes.
“You ok, man?” And he responded, “I just can’t tell you how grateful I am. I can’t recall the last time anyone has taken the time and detail to provide me a good haircut.”
Gratitude can leave its mark like it did that afternoon with Ron or like it did with me as I struggled to keep my eyes on the road due to the beauty of the forrest. But realistically in day-to-day existence an attitude of sustained gratitude is awfully elusive. Before I know it, an unjust or difficult experience retracts me right back to the never-enough, excessively critical, non-grateful place that leaves me wanting.
In his latest book Naked Spirituality (which I’m really enjoying!), Brian McLaren states, “In relation to consumerism, gratitude could be seen as downright subversive. As I’ve detailed elsewhere, a lot of people spend a lot of money every day trying to keep you from being grateful.” (p51)
The past several weeks the conversation at Access, which is reflected in my last post, has centered around our posture of God’s people amidst a life of waiting. I discovered the mysterious Hebrew word, Qavah, which in English is translated, “to wait,” and is defined as “a binding together.”
It seems that when we pause to recognize the mercy-filled binding taking place as we wait... we're gently moved toward a posture of gratitude. And at that, a healthy circle or maybe more of a divine dance, ensues. As I live, move, and have my being through the lens of gratitude I am able to join the great cloud of witnesses, God's people as we wait together for the fullness of redemption to come to pass over all of fractured creation.
The choice to wake up each day and intentionally put on the lenses of gratitude is not a promise of an easy life. In many places Jesus makes clear that a life lived to fulfill God's dream for creation will involve suffering. But even in the suffering, we can find a place of gratitude, a place where alongside the agony of loss we still count and appreciate what remains or even the grace of the memory of what was.
Lord, guard us from the conveniences and distractions that prevent us from noticing the little things like our breathing, walking, speaking, and relating. And lead us further toward a sustained practice of seeing all things through your eyes... the lenses that help us toward ongoing utterances of "thank you."
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