Where the Glory Goes

The problem with "I'm thankful for"

I’m reading Richard Beck’s The Slavery Death (easily one of the top ten books I’d recommend for a clear understanding of the way of Christ), and I come to the practical bits about what it looks like to live a life unafraid of death, which practices empower that kind of courage. I’m not surprised to find mention of my favorites: gratitude and worship. He writes, “To feel grateful is to experience life as a gift.”

This, Beck says, is what enables a man to bravely give his life (all at once like a martyr or bit by bit, one expenditure of self after another)—because his life is not his, because life (every minute, every talent, every dollar, every opportunity…) is always a gift.

A gift from whom? Does it matter?

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Tomorrow families across this country will sit down at dinner tables and before the turkey’s carved or the rolls scarfed, thousands upon thousands of mothers and grandmothers will ask everyone gathered to share what they’re “thankful for.” We’ll say we’re thankful for family, for the opportunity to be together, for a blurry-but-possibly-real end to our COVID weariness, for new relationships and babies and promotions, for health, for personal growth, for adventures, for friends, for new homes or cars, for hope, for the sweet potato casserole. And what we’ll mean, many of us, is that we’re happy these things happened, glad to have lives lit like lanterns with joys, achievements, and loves. It’s better here with family and health and sweet potato casserole. We’re so thankful.

But that’s not gratitude, is it?

It’s happiness made self-aware. Good things happened to me or around me; I noticed, and I’m glad. In some cases, it’s self-satisfaction—I worked hard and now good things are coming my way and that makes me proud and glad. It’s not an empty practice—studies show noticing how good our lives actually are leads to contentment and staves off anxiety. But gratitude is more than cataloguing delights. Gratitude involves the recognition of an outside source. Our happiness comes from somewhere.

As we say in the Gerhardt house when our girls are freaking out about some gift but have yet to acknowledge the giver, “Excitement is not gratitude.”

Here’s what I’m getting at: Everything you’re “thankful for” comes from somewhere. And acknowledging that somewhere (Someone, actually) is the definition and work of gratitude.

It’s not enough to say you’re thankful for. Who are you thankful to?

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When I was a little kid my parents labeled my Christmas presents “To: Jennifer, From: Santa.” When I had kids of my own and the time came to write names in Sharpie on cheap wrapping paper, I asked my husband, Justin, “Should we write ‘from Santa’?” He scoffed, “We worked hard to buy that present. Why should Santa get the credit?”

A silly example, sure. But let me tell you a story.

For years our family read the Harry Potter books aloud on roadtrips. We only read them on roadtrips, and we only read them together, Justin doing the reading, voices and all. We started when they were five or so and by the time London was ten we had a single book left. Justin and I did the math and realized we’d finish the last book on our way to celebrate Christmas with family in Florida, just a month after London turned 11. If you’re a Harry Potter fan you know two things: You know what happens when you turn 11. And you know what’s in Florida.

Because we’d experienced these books together in such a special way, because the world of Hogwarts felt like a second home to all of us, Justin and I wanted to end this season with an exclamation point. We contacted a travel agent and started planning a very extra trip to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Justin made it clear to me, “This is not the moment for frugality.”

We started saving money a year out.

On Christmas morning, the girls each unwrapped a Hogwarts robe. London found her Hogwarts letter in the mailbox. Eve received special permission to visit with her sister. Both girls lost their minds with the kind of excitement only a tween girl can muster.

We finished the last book on our drive to Florida, weeping as we read the words (literally) as the sun set. In Orlando we bought the girls wands from Olivander’s. Justin bought food packages including daily snacks of frozen butter beer and churros. We stayed on the property at a Universal Resort, rolling out of bed in the morning just steps from Diagon Alley.

It was, truly, magical.

And our daughters have never forgotten it. Seriously. They bring it up all the time. We’ll just be standing in the concession line at a baseball game, and Eve will say, “Do you remember those churros at Universal? I still can’t believe Dad sprung for the snack pass. You guys are awesome.” Or London will be flipping through a photo book, and she’ll stop and say, “I can’t believe you really took us there. That was such a huge sacrifice. You are amazing parents.” That’s a real quote. She’s almost fifteen, and she actually says stuff that.

What in the world?

This is what happens when the gift is tied to a giver. It’s not just being glad something happened. It’s recognizing that someone made it happen.

When we first told London and Eve about going to Hogwarts, London’s first question (after she’d cried the happiest tears) was, “Can we afford it?” In the moment my temptation was to minimize the cost, to take away any thought of money or sacrifice. But instead, I think we said something like, “It’s expensive, but we’ve decided this is a good way to spend our money. We’re happy to give up other things to be able to do this with you.”

And that (praise God) was the exact right thing to say. Because it taught our girls that gifts cost something, that someone has to give for there to be a gift. And from that day forward they’ve remembered that we loved them enough to give up something for their good.

What have been the effects of that realization?

Our kids think we hang the moon.

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In Scripture, thanksgiving and praise are Irish twins, one born on the heels of the other:

• Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise. Give thanks to him and bless his name. For the Lord is good, and his faithful love endures forever; his faithfulness, through all generations. (Psalm 100:4-5)

• They sang with praise and thanksgiving to the Lord: “For he is good; his faithful love to Israel endures forever.” (Ezra 3:11)

• I will praise God’s name with song and exalt him with thanksgiving. (Psalm 69:30)

• Therefore I will give thanks to you among the nations, Lord; I will sing praises about your name. (2 Samuel 22:50)

• Save us, God of our salvation; gather us and rescue us from the nations so that we may give thanks to your holy name and rejoice in your praise. (I Chron. 16:35)

• Now therefore, our God, we give you thanks and praise your glorious name. (I Chron 29:13)

• Therefore I will give thanks to you among the nations, Lord; I will sing praises about your name. (Psalm 18:49)

• It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praise to your name, Most High. (Psalm 92:1)

• I will give you thanks with all my heart; I will sing your praise before the heavenly beings. (Psalm 138:1)

• I offer thanks and praise to you, God of my ancestors. (Daniel 2:23)

I could go on…

What then is the precise interplay between thanksgiving and praise?

Thanksgiving lifts our eyes to the Giver, and once we’ve gazed, praise inevitably follows. It’s my daughter telling me I’m awesome for buying her churros. It’s you telling God He’s great because He’s given you life.

The psalmists, prophets, priests, and kings of Scripture can’t help but say, after a long look at God’s faithful generosity, You, Lord, hang the moon.

Gratitude assigns credit where credit is due. It shows us where the glory goes.

The glory, to be clear, is His. All of it. *

Praise is our attempt to give it.

Do you see now why it’s so important to say “Thank you” as opposed to “I’m thankful”? “Thank you” gives glory. “I’m thankful” leaves it unassigned.

And perhaps that’s what’s wrong with our world, the parts of it that are broken and misaligned: We don’t know where the delights come from. We’ve thrown away the tag, and we don’t know who to thank.

And maybe we’ve held the glory for so long, looking for somewhere to put it, that we’ve accidentally begun to think it belongs to us.

Here is my thanksgiving blessing, from my heart to yours:

May you never forget that none of this is yours. Nothing came from you and nothing belongs to you. All glory be to Christ.

-JL

*I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thanked and praised God for that trip to Universal. :)