A Death-Defying Gratitude
I was recently invited to a Story Slam, where participants can listen to stories, share their own, or both. I didn’t plan on sharing anything, but that didn’t stop me from imagining what story I might have told, had I put my name into the running. The theme for this event was gratitude.
“Gratitude in November? Real original,” I thought. Not wanting to conform to what I imagined would be predictable, formulaic stories, I approached the theme in a different way. Instead of a gratitude that comes not unexpectedly from a challenging circumstance, what about a gratitude that is remarkable because it is unexpected?
A gratitude in the midst of great sorrow or pain. Gratitude in failure, a break-up, a crushed dream. Gratitude in a situation where you could not possibly be happy about the chaos around you — but you choose to be thankful because you know God is using you through it, even if you don’t completely understand how.
A defiant gratitude — something we as Christians are especially called to have in a world that tells us we don’t need God or his love.
When I consider this sort of gratitude, I think of my grandmother’s death.
Back in August 2015, my family moved our abuelita up to the Chicago suburbs from Laredo, TX so she could live with us while undergoing treatments for pancreatic cancer. She did well for a while, but it wasn’t long before the treatments stopped working.
Over her last three months, day by day, I watched her body weaken. She became smaller and smaller, ate less and less, spoke less and less — until one day, she stopped eating and speaking and fell into a deep sleep. It was only a few days after that she took her last breath, surrounded by an enormous group of fiercely devoted, fiercely loving familia.
“So the sisters sent word to Jesus, “Lord, the one you love is sick.” When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” John 11:3-4
I remember those days. Sitting by her side in her final weeks, reading scripture to her in Spanish, wondering if she was listening (or silently laughing at all my mispronunciations). I remember feeling guilty that I hadn’t spent more time with her in my life, feeling sad that it took her dying for us to grow closer.
I remember the hospice nurse explaining the signs and sequence of Grandma’s organs shutting down, one by one. I remember many tears. I remember holding her limp hand as I painted her fingernails a soft shade of lavender. And, on her last day, I remember the moment we were gathered around her bed — missing her, loving her, watching her as she took her final breath.
We knew the number to call once she passed. We had prepared for this. But there is no 1-800 number that can prepare you for the incredible sorrow you will feel upon losing a loved one. I’m sure many of you, if not all, can relate.
It would be so easy to wallow, so simple to lie down in the sorrow and let it wash over us completely. You and I both know, however, that we have a very good reason to get up from that deep La-Z-Boy of sadness: the promise of eternal life in heaven with our resurrected Lord.
“And this is the will of him who sent me, that I shall lose none of all those he has given me, but raise them up at the last day. For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” John 6:39-40
“But Megan,” you might say, “It’s not always that easy.” I know. And I’m not about to boast that I have some foolproof plan for turning off sadness that will work for every situation. We are humans living in a sinful world, after all. God’s is the only unfailing plan — but it’s not always easy for us to ignore the troubles of this world and let us fall into his arms completely.
“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
Instead of trying to ignore the troubles of our lives, then, what if we try to find God in them? What if we seek him not only during our sadness, but in our sadness? What if we make it our responsibility to look for him in every trial of our lives with our strongest spiritual binoculars – and, instead of asking “why is this happening?”, we marvel at his work and praise him for including us in it in the first place?
“There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.” 1 Corinthians 12:6
In Grandma’s final days, I remember great sadness. But I also remember being completely astounded by how much thought and detail God put into her death – the process by which his dearly loved daughter passed from this earth and into his heavenly arms.
The Lord of all creation, who spent six days creating the heavens and the earth, down to every star and mountain and blade of grass – also spends precious time and thought to determine not only how we will grow and live, but how we will die, down to the order in which our organs shut down, the exact time our hearts stop, and the precise moment we draw our last breath. Amazing.
“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you.” Psalm 139:13-18
Yes, I was sad, but I was also astounded. Fascinated by the intricacies of his plan for the human body, awe-struck to see God’s ornate design for us so tangibly at work in front of me. I felt so much wonder — and then, so much gratitude.
Through intently observing and marveling at God’s hand in what was unfolding in front of me, I became thankful, even in the presence of death and mourning. Thankful to know Grandma was at peace in heaven. Thankful to be part of a God-loving family. Grateful for the ability to openly discuss faith and salvation with my relatives, even if we don’t belong to the same church. Thankful that, even if it wasn’t until her last year of life, I was able to bond with my grandmother through our shared faith and heritage. (How cool that I could both exercise my faith and practice my Spanish while strengthening my relationship with sweet Abuelita!)
Sure, it may have taken Grandma’s cancer diagnosis for us to finally have consistent time together and cultivate a real relationship. But it also took Jesus’ death on the cross for us to have an iron-clad, inseparable relationship with our Savior. And for that, we should feel overwhelming amazement and gratitude.
“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:38-39
It can be difficult to give thanks sometimes. Loneliness and loss, financial hardship and strained relationships – these things can make it hard to feel gratitude, especially during the holidays. Too often in the crowdedness of stress and pain do we lose sight of what truly matters: the hope of God’s certain promises even in the midst of painful and uncertain situations.
“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.” Philippians 3:20-21
Jesus, after all, provides the best example of being thankful in seemingly impossible situations. Recall the thanks and Words of Institution he gave at the Passover meal with his disciples: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:23-25)
Jesus knew the betrayal, suffering, agony and death he was about to face. And yet, before he willingly took his place on the cross, he gave thanks to our heavenly Father. How much more reason, then, do we have to be thankful for each and every day that we get to live as dearly loved children of God, bought with the blood of his son Jesus Christ?
The Last Supper was not the only time Jesus gave thanks, of course. In John 11, we read that Jesus looked heavenward and thanked God for hearing his prayer outside of Lazarus’s tomb — a prayer which he said for the benefit of those around him, including Mary and Martha. They had only to hear him call to the Father before seeing the miracle of Lazarus being raised to life to truly know and believe that Jesus is the Messiah.
You see, God is constantly working to bring us to greater faith through our pains and sorrows. In this world we will have trouble; more importantly, we will have Jesus and the certain hope and power of his resurrection.
Dear sisters, if you are struggling with gratitude in a crummy situation, if this is your first holiday alone and you’re feeling sad, if the happiness of others is making you bitter — then look to Jesus, and look for him. Grab your spiritual magnifying glass and identify the ways in which he is blessing you through hardship. Throw those blessings under a microscope and marvel at how much careful detail he is putting into your life and your salvation every single day.
Seek the Lord with all your heart. Pray to him, and give thanks to him. Be mindful that in your thankfulness — whether during trial or triumph — he is working for the benefit of those around you. Allow yourselves to weep, and be a friend to those who are weeping — for it is in our sorrow that we often learn to contemplate the Father’s goodness. Know that God will sometimes have to wring the worship from our hearts. We will be better for it.
And finally, fall not into the La-Z-Boy of sadness and self-pity, no matter how inviting it seems — but breathe a sigh of relief and thankfulness as you fall into God’s loving arms of righteousness, knowing that his peace, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in his son Jesus Christ forever.
***
Since you are mine, My Lord divine,
Death holds no dreadful terrors;
Your precious blood, My highest good,
Has blotted out my errors.
My thanks to you — Your Word is true!
Fulfill your promise ever,
And mercy give While here I live
And heav’nly bliss forever.
O God, Our Lord, Your Holy Word, verse 4