During morning quiet time these couple of weeks, I have been reading We Were Made for These Times: 10 Lessons for Moving Through Change, Loss, and Disruption by Kaira Jewel Lingo. This book has offered some good reminders and new perspectives on dealing with challenging times in life.
One of the topics she touches on multiple times is gratitude. As a student of Thich Nhat Hanh, she learned at the feet of one of the greatest spiritual teachers of our time. Her simple yet profound thoughts on the subject of gratitude caused me to pause and reflect on the last eight years.
This provided perspective on the journey traveled, lessons learned, and observations missed. Often, we don’t fully see how we have been changed until looking back on the path we traveled.
A word of caution. Looking back at the past with regret can be paralyzing. If we choose to glance back at where we have been, may it always be with the intent of either learning or loving. Consider the words of the apostle Paul in Philippians:
Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal, but I press on to lay hold of that for which Christ has laid hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider that I have laid hold of it, but one thing I have laid hold of: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal, toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us, then, who are mature think this way, and if you think differently about anything, this, too, God will reveal to you. Only let us hold fast to what we have attained.
We are instructed to move toward the heavenly call of God. This is not about “getting to heaven” some day, but rather pursuing the peace, the Shalom, the wholeness the divine offers. That healing and renewal is not found in the past, but in the present. The past can be a powerful servant in our growth, but it can be a terrible master as well.
Notice those final words Paul wrote: “Only let us hold fast to what we have attained.” It doesn’t appear Paul says to never consider where we have been or what we have experienced, but to only keep what we gained in the process.
Regret, shame, and the like are nothing but poison, slowly killing us if we continue to ingest them. But ingest them we often do.
How do we look back, hold fast to what we have attained, and keep moving forward? How do we release the toxic mix of regret and shame without losing the lessons from our darkest chapters?
Gratitude.
In our modern age, it seems we want instant gratitude. We want a book, a podcast, a sermon, or even a sentence to make us grateful. If we could order gratitude with Amazon Prime, how many of us would do that?
Many of us can be like Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka, crying out, “I want it—in our case, gratitude—now!”
That’s not how it works.
Gratitude must be grown, not manufactured. This requires time and patience, attributes many of us lack or struggle to embody.
Gratitude is more like a tree, growing slowly, reaching up, developing over time. It needs nurtured and watered regularly. Its roots must have time to work their way into the soil of our souls. It needs light and air and even pruning sometimes.
This happens through regular practices in our lives. A few of mine have been journaling, meditation, and helping others. Yours might be the same, they might be different.
When it felt like my life wasn’t worth living, I started a gratitude journal, writing down three things I was grateful for each day.
When my mind was racing with unhealthy and toxic thoughts, I meditated, often reflecting on this moment and what there was to be thankful for in the present.
When there didn’t seem to be purpose for life, I found others who needed something and helped them. This offered meaning, reminded me I wasn’t alone, and provided moments of human connection.
Traveling through seasons of immense darkness is scary, painful, and often overwhelming. There were days of utter confusion, immense grief, and bitter anger. I’m not going to lie, it was hell at times and in some moments there didn’t seem to be a way out.
Today, I envision myself standing on a mountain looking back at those valleys. Below are dark, heavily wooded areas filled with fear. I didn’t see it then, but small practices like journaling, meditation, and helping others served as a flickering candle, offering just enough light to take the next step.
Sometimes that next step look a while, like slogging through deep mud. Some days it seemed like the mud was waist or even shoulder high. Occasionally, it felt I was sliding backwards.
Through it all, I kept the candle lit, even if it was dim, trusting what others had said about staying the course.
If you find yourself in a dark woods, I offer this flickering flame to light your candle. If your flame glows brightly, offer it to another in need.
In a world consumed with hatred, shame, and violence, let’s help grow gratitude. With so many feeling hurt, lost, and confused, a little illumination from gratitude can help light the way for us as individuals and a world.
Breaking Into Peace 