Driving around Dumaguete in heavy traffic, I conducted an experiment: I decided to be a courteous driver.
I would stop at intersections to allow other cars to cross first, even if I had the right-of-way. I wanted to see how many people would say “thank you” for my little acts of kindness. (By the way, I don’t recommend that you do this experiment. If you start acting like a courteous driver, others might think you are nuts.)
Anyway, out of 10 drivers who benefited from my kindness on the road, only three nodded or waved at me, or honked their horns to say “thank you.” The rest kept on going, as if whatever I was doing for them didn’t matter at all. What I got instead was honking by cars behind me, like letting me know I must be nuts.
We all understand and appreciate the importance of gratitude. It can radically change relationships.
In fact, one of the first things we teach our children is to express gratitude. Someone gives them candy, and we say: “Now what do you say?” And the child learns from an early age the answer “Thank you!”
The English word “thank” stems from the Anglo-Saxon word meaning “think,” and certainly, if we are more “think-ful” we will be more thankful.
And this is what St. Paul wanted to remind the Church in Philippi. If they really think about it, they have a lot to be grateful for.
First, Paul wanted them to be thankful they are part of the Church. If we consider the charter members of that little church at Philippi, it’s easy to understand why Paul would be thankful.
St. Luke lists them in the 16th chapter of the book of Acts. First, there was Lydia and all the people in her household. Lydia was a Jewish businesswoman, the first convert by St. Paul.
Then there was a nameless slave girl afflicted by all sorts of strange neuroses, and who had been exploited shamefully by her owners. When she met Paul, he told her about Jesus, his power, and his love, and she was converted. Her neurotic tendencies cleared up, and the fellows who had been using her as a sideshow freak went out of business.
Finally, there was Stephanas and his household. Stephanas was the guard when Paul and Silas were put in jail. Suddenly, there was an earthquake and the jail fell apart. Stephanas was ready to commit suicide because he was certain his prisoners had escaped. But Paul called out and told him not to do anything drastic because they were still all present and accounted for. So dumbfounded was Stephanas by the calm and glowing faith of these Christian prisoners that he fell to his knees, and “he was baptized at once, with all of his family” (Acts 16:33).
As I look about me here, a swelling tide of gratitude rises also within me, and I thank God for all of you. First of all, we have the choirs. It is good to hear them sing for God’s glory. Then I see friends and members of this church willing to give their time, money, and share their gifts, putting together Putos sa Kalipay to help the needy; raising funds for our Rural Pastors; helping with our worship, or inviting friends to worship with us; singing in the choir; helping sort out used clothes for victims of natural calamities; participating in the Prison Ministry, helping with the Feeding Program, and other projects; ministering to our children through the Sunday School and youth programs; reaching out to others who are in need—these acts of kindness make my heart sing with gratitude.
In church, you see the faces of those who are with you in faith and fellowship, who surround us in a community of caring. We may sometimes disagree on how to do things, but they are the same people who will stand with us on our mountaintops, and walk with us through our valleys. It is enormously enriching and empowering to know that we are part of this fellowship.
In many ways, I see God’s love manifested in our midst. As we look at those faces around us, let us from our own hearts say, “I thank God for all of you.”
Secondly, Paul tells the Church in Philippi, and us today, that we should be thankful for God’s grace.
God’s love is not determined by our worth or worthlessness. It is love that finds weakness, and creates strength; it finds sin, and creates salvation. It is a love that seeks us, and embraces us, lifts us up into fellowship with God.
And having been blessed with God’s grace, we have a responsibility to share our blessings. That is what this business of being a Christian is all about — accepting the stewardship of being Christ’s redeemed people.
Too often though, we seek God’s blessing on our terms. We choose what we want to do, and then, ask God to bless it.
Behind false humility, we hear from time to time people’s reply when asked to help: “I’m afraid [to do such big task].” Translation: Do not expect much commitment from me because you’re not going to get it.
Or they say: “I’m a Christian but I like to stay in the background.” Translation: I want to be known as a child of God but I don’t want to do much to serve my Lord.
When such people are asked to take some responsibility in the Lord’s work, they answer: “Oh, I’m sure you can find someone much more capable than I am.” Translation: I want to be a child of God but I don’t want any of the responsibility that goes with it. I’ll take the promises, but not the tasks.
God expects our tithe, be it great or small. When we are asked to help with the Lord’s work, God expects us to say “Yes.”
We are those to whom much has been given. Christ has bought us, and paid for us on the Cross. He loves us, and redeems us.
To whom much is given, of them shall much be required. Ours is the responsibility of being willing and faithful stewards.
Real thanksgiving rises out of knowing the depths of God’s faithfulness to us. And our gratitude is a response to God’s grace.
Henri Nouwen expresses this so well: “Gratitude is a response to grace. The compassionate life is a grateful life, and actions born out of gratefulness are not compulsive but free, not somber but joyful, not fanatical but liberating. When gratitude is the source of our actions, our giving becomes receiving, and those to whom we minister become our ministers.”
A Thanksgiving Day editorial in a newspaper told of a schoolteacher who asked her class of first graders to draw a picture of something they were thankful for. She expected that these children from poor neighborhoods would draw pictures of food on the table. She was taken aback by the picture that Douglas handed in. It was a simple childishly- drawn “hand”.
But whose hand? “It must be the hand of God who brings us food,”said one child. “A farmer,” said another, “because he grows the turkeys.”
Finally, the teacher bent over Douglas’s desk, and asked whose hand it was. “It’s your hand, Teacher,” he mumbled.
The teacher recalled that frequently at recess, she would take Douglas, a scrubby forlorn child, by the hand. She often did that with the other children, but it meant so much to Douglas.
We sometimes forget that the only hands God has is our hands. A hand stretched out in love to “one of the least of these” is a hand that reflects a thankful heart.
The poet Maya Angelou once said something beautiful and meaningful: “Giving liberates the soul of the believer.”
We don’t help others that they might be saved, but that we might be saved from the greed and insensitivity that capture the soul of the ungrateful.
Thus, let us come to God with grateful hearts. God is awesome. God is good.
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Author’s email: [email protected]
