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"Freedom Through Gratitude"
One of the fun things I get to do as a grandfather is watch my kids raise their kids. There's so much to teach and learn: how to talk and play with others, where to put the Cheerios really, how to be polite by saying thanks. So when a child receives a gift, Mom or Dad is likely to prompt, “And what do you say?” “Thank you,” they'll usually reply.

We think saying “thanks” is a part of having good manners. Of course, it is, and it's important. But the importance of being grateful goes well beyond minding our manners or doing our social duty. Among many other places in the Bible, for example, Psalm 136 reminds us, “Give thanks to the God of heaven, for his love endures forever.” And the Apostle Paul urges Christians to sing, “always giving thanks for everything.” Such reminders to give thanks aren't to add to our duty, but to increase our freedom and joy.

For one thing, giving thanks frees us to receive life as a gift. The strength we use, the resources we enjoy, every breath we breathe, all of these come to us from the hand of God. One of my favorite psalms is Psalm 104, a psalm that celebrates God's creative activity. It describes God's shaping the world, but even more it wonders at how generously God pays steady attention to and provides for all the creatures exactly what they need. And we are among them. God provides steadily, generously, graciously to give us life.

We're tempted—and often taught—to think that we're on our own. We need to be independent. We need to watch out for ourselves, to plan and hustle to provide what we need. Of course there's a measure of truth in that. But it's even more important to know that even for the most “self-made” persons among us, none of us is really on our own. All of us depend on God's generous care. Knowing this frees us to lay down the need to be self-sufficient. Being grateful for God's care frees us to release the burden of worry about whether we can guard our lives and gather all we need. We can learn to enjoy the ordinary things, the small things.

Several months back now, the story of Alberto Salazar caught the nation's attention and, even more, the attention of those who live in the Pacific Northwest. As a young man, Salazar was one of the world's most successful long distance runners, winning three consecutive New York City marathons and the 1982 Boston Marathon, and setting a handful of United States and world records in track. At age 48, he was fit and still running 25-30 miles a week and was coaching some of the country's most talented runners. So all of the people around him were shocked when he suddenly collapsed of a heart attack on the Nike World campus. All who witnessed the event and the medical personnel who worked to save his life say it's a miracle that he lived through it. But he did and he continues to lead an active life.

Once he was on the road to recovery, Salazar ventured that he was glad it happened because it reminded him of what's most important. He said, “Every little thing I do right now, every time I see my kids, or wake up in the morning, see my daughter sleeping—little things I thought were just normal, they're always going to be there—I really appreciate them a lot more now.” He continued, “I kind of forget to really keep things in proper priority and that's my family, God, faith and those friendships.”

Though it may not be as dramatic, perhaps most of us can remember being rescued from a close call or even a life-threatening experience. I find that such memories sometimes still give me a sobering chill. And often they do remind us of priorities and of God's goodness. Wouldn't it be better, though, not to have to rely on close calls to remember God's care and generosity toward us? Wouldn't it encourage us to notice and be grateful each day? Simple practices of thanksgiving can be freshly rich, not merely routine, and they can remind us of the gift of our lives. Giving thanks invites us to gladly receive God's provision in each day, in each moment, and in the ordinary blessings of our lives.

Giving thanks not only frees us to receive life as gift; it also frees us to relax into contentment. Without gratitude, we can easily be captured by the restlessness of need, even the frenzy of scurrying about to get the next one thing that will make us happy. It's a subtle habit, isn't it? We tell ourselves, “If I just had X (you can fill in the blank), then I'd be satisfied.” But when we get it, we tend to fill in the blank with something else. And others push us in that direction. Our culture has a major industry that devotes itself entirely to breeding discontent, to stirring up our sense of need and reminding us that we are entitled to everything we desire. The constant appeals hammer at us: you want it; you need it; you deserve it. Sometimes it's put that boldly, sometimes more subtly. So it's easy for us to slip into a constant dissatisfaction or perhaps into a tempered uneasiness in which we say, “That's not really good enough, but it's okay for now.”

Of course, such dissatisfaction touches more than just the things we own. It may have to do with our jobs, our dreams, our social circles or station in life, and much more. So we discover that, unlike the Apostle Paul, we have not learned to be content, whatever our circumstances may be.

Though sometimes we joke about people who see the glass half-full or half-empty, I'm quite sure that God does not intend that any of us should live steadily in restless discontent. Giving thanks helps us move toward contentment, toward living joyfully in the lives we really have. Instead of focusing on what's lacking, we can be glad for what we've received, both large and small. Certainly there are times when we have genuine needs, and we are invited to bring those to God in trust and prayer. But even in time of need, God's gifts to us invite thanksgiving.

It may be in the wonder of the world itself, perhaps in a full moon rising, or in the glory of roses, or the delicate strength of a spider's web. We can say thanks for food, whether ordinary grub or cuisine, or thanks for well-crafted instruments and musicians who can make them sing. Or it might be for quiet moments or friendly smiles or other small things. Though it's not small, I often thank God for the gift of people in my life, the people who have befriended me, guided me and who love me regardless. How can we not be grateful for the folks God sends to rescue us, to open new opportunities, to love our kids, and even to laugh at our jokes? Giving thanks helps us relax into contentment, not chafing under false need, but celebrating God's care.

Though I think it's not, maybe it seems too small a thing to rest easily in God's care, practicing Jesus' teaching about not worrying about tomorrow. In my experience, however, making a habit of thanksgiving does something grander still. It frees us to see even more fully the goodness of God. Instead of God just getting us by, we begin to see generosity. Even if the circumstances of our lives are modest, instead of mere adequacy we begin to see God's abundance.

An old gospel song urges people who are struggling in life to count their blessings. To those who, in the words of the song, feel “discouraged,” “tempest-tossed” or who even feel that “all is lost,” the refrain invites, “Count your blessings, name them one by one…And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.” The word “surprise” has been grabbing my attention recently, I think because it suggests that without intentionally giving thanks we don't notice God's goodness. We too easily become preoccupied, slip into the ruts of routine, into anxiety, into complaint, into taking things for granted.

How much better it is to see and celebrate God's goodness in the whole fabric of our lives. Giving thanks can free us from the worries of self-sufficiency and from the restless striving of perpetual need and it can bring us into the joy of God's abundant love. Then we can, as Paul advises, let our “hearts overflow with thankfulness.”
 

Conversation with Howard Macy

Lydia Talbot: Howard, thank you for that wonderful message on gratitude. You refer to the Psalms, that say to give thanks increases our freedom and joy. I must ask you as a “DNA Quaker,” as you are known, how does that kind of gratitude fit into the Quaker traditions of peacemaking and justice?

Howard Macy: One of the things that I find really interesting in the early Friends movement, particularly with George Fox who is regarded as founder, is how he was overwhelmed with the love of God. In his own sense of need, he encountered God in remarkable ways even in very discouraging times. This was the Commonwealth period in England. Oliver Cromwell and others were throwing people who weren't righteous enough into jail, you know, a lot of Friends and Baptists and other people. Even in those dark moments he encouraged people to sing and dance because of God's presence in the midst of all of that. They had a keen sense that the ocean of darkness and death was being overcome by an ocean of light and love. So I think built into that was that sense of God's sufficiency and power at work, and was very important to them.

Talbot: Did you learn that as a child?

Macy: Oh, I wish I had learned more! But I was certainly among people who understood a lot of that.

Daniel Pawlus: Now, Howard, you pursued an interesting avenue in your study of spirituality and that is the integration of humor into that. I'd love for you to share that with us because many times we think of faith and religion as a very serious matter.

Macy: Quite serious!

Pawlus : Very serious! Share with us a little bit what that research was and that work was about.

Macy: Well, actually, I was surprised. What I set out to do was maybe write an article—to be a scholar and everything—about interpreting humor in the Bible. Because there is very little written about how to do that, I began to read about humor. I've been teaching spiritual formation courses for a long, long time, so I found a lot of good stuff about reading humor in the Bible. I also began to see an intersection of how humor touches on how we understand ourselves and what's possible for us. So a couple of examples. We could call this theology but it might scare people! I wrote a chapter called, “The Klutz Factor,” because all of us do things that make us feel stupid. We wear mismatched socks, we lock the keys in the car, and that sort of thing. Theologically, we can say we're limited, as we are creatures. We're not in charge. We have limits as great as God has crafted us to be and our failures are kind of built in, in some sense. We have great powers but we have limitations. And to learn to accept that and deal with it has been really eye opening.

The other one that is kind of fun for me is to think about being the center of the universe. Now, people who write about humor often talk about being the center of the universe or discovering yourself in that place, king or queen, and then needing to unpack that. We use humor to take people down from the top of the hill because they are in our spot. A lot of “take down” humor is really this competition to be in the center. But we discover about ourselves that, in fact, we're making moves that put us in relationships in wrong places, or maybe act in ways that we may be simply oblivious to. I think a lot of “center of the universe behavior” is that people are oblivious. I discover this when people run into you with shopping carts and other kinds of things! People are so engrossed in their own world that they're hardly aware that there is another world. So humor is a way of unpacking that in ourselves especially, rather than necessarily being cruel to others. And there are a lot of other ways that test who we are and where we are.

Talbot : I wonder how you would say that humor would feed into gratitude in the context of the Alberto Salazar story, the world famous long-distance runner who collapsed of a heart attack. And you said in the context of that, that reminded you of your own close calls that leave you with a sobering chill. You've got to tell us, what do you mean? What are they?

Macy : Well, do you know the Darwin Award stories? They're books collecting Darwin Award stories. These are people who are given awards because they've taken themselves out of the human race through their own stupidity and so removed unfortunate parts from the gene pool, is the theory. I've read those stories—they've done really stupid things—and I say, “You know, that could have been me!” Or, “You know, that maybe was me and, but for the grace of God, I'd be dead!”

Talbot : Have there been really close calls in your life?

Macy: One that comes back every once in a while is when I was driving on a road in Maine and pulled out thinking I can pass this car and the next thing staring down the road and seeing there's somebody right there in my face. It's only God's grace that rescued me, very frankly. That kind of thing.

Talbot: What do you say to people who are at the depths of despair, who are in pain and anguish and suffering who would rather say to God take back your gift, than express gratitude? What can you say to people feeling that way?

Macy: One of the chapters in that book is called, “When It's Hard to Laugh.” I think there are two things to say. Sometimes we say, “You know, in five years we'll laugh about this,” or sometime later we'll laugh about this. And you might say, “Well, could we maybe laugh about it now?” And that can unpack some of that. But there are other places where, in fact, it's too soon and you really can't. So to introduce humor at one level is cruel. I had a woman who shared with me a story of a family that used laughter quite a lot, but that in a cancer period in their family they didn't laugh at all for a year and they began to later. But there was a period where that couldn't happen.

Pawlus: I wish we had more time to spend with you, Howard, but thank you for joining us today. We appreciate you being here.

Macy: Thank you very much. It's been delightful.     

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