Jesus, the Perfect Example of Giving-Thanks-In-All-Things

Tonight at church, we took Communion.

Communion services are beautiful. I like how it gets so quiet. 

People thinking. Ears listening. Eyes closed. Hearts still.

I couldn’t even count how many times I’ve taken the bread & cup in remembrance. 

I have to come back to the whole 1000 gifts, give-thanks-in-all-things business that I’ve been doing, because it’s really opening my eyes to all of the times I see the words “give thanks” in Scripture, which is a lot by the way.

Christ said those words, you know. Ann Voskamp talks about this in her book, but today it became real to me. I experienced it.

I read it tonight in Matthew 26:26-27.

While they were eating, Jesus took bread,

 and when he had given thanks, 

he broke it and gave it to his disciples, 

saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” 

Then he took a cup, 

and when he had given thanks, 

he gave it to them, 

saying, “Drink from it, all of you...”

When I read these verses, the words “he had given thanks” stood out to me, because I’m always on the lookout for the thanksgiving.

Then I really and truly thought about what Jesus was giving thanks for. I sighed heavy, as I realized that He was giving thanks for the very things that symbolized His death on the cross for us. 

The cup- His blood, poured out for the sins of many. Give thanks.

The bread- His body, broken for us. Give thanks.

Jesus could give thanks for this?

Yes, He gave thanks in the hardest of hard times and I should too. 

He did the hard work of giving thanks in ALL things.

Good. Bad. Ugly. Beautiful. Peace. Storm. All things.

Give thanks.

I’m putting post-its all over everything to remind me to give thanks.

I’m not kidding, they are everywhere.

Maybe you too, could try to give thanks, even in the hard times, like Christ did..?

 

For When You're Ready to Realize That Complaining Doesn't Change Anything

Thankfulness.

Joy.

Blessings.

Gifts.

One day, I picked up Ann Voskamp’s book 1000 Gifts. Amazon recommended it to me, so I gave it a try. (I’m going to make a blog post soon about all the fantastic books I’m reading/have read recently, and this will be one of them. But for now, I just want to tell you about it briefly, because it’s critical for the rest of this entry.)

Ann Voskamp’s whole thing is counting the gifts that God gives. It’s thanksgiving for the seemingly small- and discovering that joy is possible. Giving thanks in all things (good, bad, ugly) teaches contentment in all things. Content in all things= joy.

Yes, I was wanting some of that joy. So I gave her Joy Dare a try. You count three gifts everyday for a year and at the end, you have 1000 gifts. (Then you keep counting!) And honestly, it’s March and I am still doing the dare. In the giving thanks for all things, it becomes like an instinct. It’s all about trying to change the response from complaining to thanking.

Someone asked me about joy last night. I told them really briefly about this. How I’m trying it, it’s changing the way I think, etc.

Then the challenge came.

Today, maybe instead of complaining at anything and everything, we could just give a little thanks?

That was my facebook status this morning. I’d like to say that, after making this status, everything was peachy and I felt like I was on cloud nine all day. But I wasn’t. I am, however, still smiling after a crazy weird day and it’s all because of Him and the giving of thanks.

I literally get in my car and turn the corner, where a terribly long traffic light is. It was red. And the train was coming, which means I’d have to sit there for over two minutes waiting. Yup, I timed it before. I roll my eyes and STOP. Give thanks, Vanessa.

God, thank you that this light is red. I guess if this light wasn’t here I’d probably get in an accident. Okay, red light, I’ll give thanks for you too. 

No lie, the light turned green. I was able to turn before the train came. 

I laughed out loud in the car.

A gift.

I get to work and Sister Stephanie had bought me a donut. Gift.

Silly playing with preschoolers. Gift. 

Laughter. Gift.

A job. Gift.

After work, I go to college. I had a test today. I’m on the road and I see a sign: Detour. There was an accident on the ramp that I use to get on the highway. A huge tractor trailer was practically upside down. 

I sighed heavy. Now I have to go another way. I don’t know if I’ll make it in time for class. And this is the teacher who is always grumpy and refuses to let the late kids come into class. Super.

But I STOPPED. Deep breath. Give thanks. 

God, thank you that I wasn’t in that accident. Thank you that I know another way to get to school. Thank you that I am actually remembering to give thanks right now. Okay, detour, I can give thanks for you too.

I prayed that God protected whoever was in that accident and I just kept driving. And, just so you know, I actually got to school 5 minutes earlier than I usually do. Gift. Give thanks.

Test. Another opportunity to complain or give thanks. This teacher’s tests are so hard. And there was a question I wasn’t too sure about. And of course, it’s a duplicate question. So if I get it wrong once, I’m gonna get it wrong the second time too. 

Great, I thought to myself. So I put down my gut-answer for both and said a little thanks in my head. After class, I checked in my notes and *ding ding ding* I got it right! Gift. Give thanks.

My mom said she saw some bathing suits at Marshall’s. So after class, I went. Well, me and bathing suits aren’t the best of friends. I looked in the mirror and wanted to complain. Surprisingly, this was the hardest of all to give thanks for. It doesn’t look right. It’s too big here, to small here, that looks so bad, that’s more than I want to spend, etc. And I just complain complain complain. 

You know what I’m learning though? 

Complaining doesn’t change anything. 

It doesn’t change the situation and it doesn’t change the attitude and it doesn’t make this spirit of heaviness go away. It doesn’t bring joy.

Here’s the secret: Thanks is what changes things. 

Thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you 

who belong to Christ Jesus to live. 

~1 Thessalonians 5:18

Now, thanks can’t always change the situation. 

I cannot give so much thanks that suddenly the bathing suits all fit me and look perfect. I cannot give thanks and that car accident be undone. BUT, I can give thanks, and my attitude can change. My perspective can change. 

See, thanks is changing me. 

Maybe you too, could give a little thanks? 

I can’t promise it’ll make you hit only green lights and look like an Olympic gymnast, but I can promise that it will change you. It will change your perspective.

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, 

or, whine, Israel, saying, “God has lost track of me. 

He doesn’t care what happens to me”? 

Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been listening? 

God doesn’t come and go. God lasts. 

He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine. 

He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath. 

And he knows everything, inside and out....” 

~Isaiah 40:27-28

When the American Dream Isn't Enough

I just came to this beautiful conclusion. God has brought me to this most perfect place.

It's so good that I smiled- LAUGHED- in the shower. I wanted to get out, with shampoo still in my hair, and write it all down before I forgot. But I don't think I'll be forgetting this anytime soon.

You see, I can no longer contain this fire that has been shut up in my bones.

I realized that I'm done with passive Christianity. I'm done caring about what others think of me. I'm done laughing at things that aren't funny. I'm done trying to fit God into a box, a book, a part of my life. I'm done with being just good enough. I'm done pretending that I have all the answers. And I'm done pretending like it's all about the American dream.

Because it's not.

I don't want the American dream- if it means I have to water down my "Christianity".
I don't want the 9 to 5 job- if it means I'll be chained to it, like a hamster on a wheel.
I don't want the 2 car garage, house in the suburbs- if it means I won't be able to find the time and money to extravagantly bless someone.
I don't want some puffy status- if it means I'll have to gossip and pretend to be something I'm not.
I don't just want to wake up, rush to work, rush home, eat, watch my favorite show, go to bed and repeat, repeat, repeat- if I never leave room for God to shake me up.

I don't want that life. I don't want to be a passive Christian, filling up a pew, saying my "Amen," but never radically committing to following Christ.

There's the word I've been looking for: RADICAL.

When someone says radical, I get a little scared. 
If you're anything like me, you may think it sounds kind of dangerous.

That's because it is.

Radical faith is the kind that changes things. It's the faith that martyrs die for. It's the messy, give-thanks-in-all-circumstances-faith.

I'm naturally pretty introverted and shy. I'd use the excuse "Oh, God made me this way so He understands if I'm not radical." Yeah, I said that sorta thing a lot.

But He has called me, yes even me, to be radical. And He has called you too.

Allow me to digress for a minute...

Have you ever painted a preschooler's hands? More specifically, have you ever cleaned the paint off of a preschooler's hands?

I have. It's messy and goes like this:

"Okay now *insert preschoolers name* I'm going to move this chair by the sink and help you up. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Here's some soap. Let's rub a little. Don't splash. Let's get all that yellow paint off!"

But it never fails. There will still be paint on something before you're done! On their clothes, on the counter, on the sink, on you. They leave a little evidence of their painted hands everywhere.

And I've been thinking that the messy trail of paint is really how we're supposed to be living our lives. We're supposed to leave evidence of God's radical love everywhere we go- on anyone and anything that we touch.

We speak to our neighbor, they should see the evidence of your Christian life.
We go to the bank, they should see the paint splatter.
We go to our jobs, our parties, our churches, our schools, our grocery stores- they should all see the love-trail that we're leaving, like the bright yellow paint.

If we lived, loved, like that, radically, then wouldn't all those we come in contact with know where to find God?!

Couldn't they see the trail, follow the tracks of bright yellow paint, and find that they were led right to the love of God, living and burning radically on the inside of us?

The American dream isn't enough for me anymore. I'm living radically.