In the Hands of a Fiercely Tender God - 4 Days of Hope and Encouragement for the Suffererনমুনা

Thank

I owned only one coat until a year ago—and it had spent almost its entire existence in the back corner of my closet. Southern California winters require little more than a sweater, so we wore coats and scarves just for fun.

When our family transplanted to a colder climate, we were suddenly shopping for base layers, mid-layers, thick socks, and real coats (because ten-degree weather laughs at SoCal attire). I’m absolutely in love with this cold and snowy winter, but my wardrobe could not look more different than it did a year ago.

It makes me think of how my life’s climate has often changed in an instant. Crises have blown in like an Arctic wind, and I’ve needed a different wardrobe to weather the elements. The way I dress today is vastly different than the way I dressed thirty years ago. By far, one of the best articles of clothing I own for seasons of suffering is gratitude.

However, gratitude is not always easy to put on. Suffering affords me endless opportunities to gripe, to despair, to harden my heart. Some days are so dark and the pain so acute that I wonder, How could there possibly be something good to be thankful for today?

I’ve spent the last five years in oncology offices, hospital beds, and waiting rooms, surrounded by cancer patients thirty and forty years my senior. I’ve watched my already thin body drop weight till my bones peeked through my skin. I’ve been poked, prodded, pumped, scanned, and cut till I almost didn’t recognize myself. I’ve lost my headful of hair—twice. At times, it’s been physically excruciating to dress, turn over in bed, and walk across a room. Medical bills have exceeded our budget. The list could go on. Cancer has stripped me (and my husband and son) of everything that is normal, stable, and “good.”

Another reality is at work here, far more real than what my five senses can apprehend. One of the surest ways to experience that unseen reality is to thank God, to nurture a heart of gratitude toward Him. This isn’t “positive thinking.” This isn’t being optimistic or a glass-half-full kind of girl. This is an act of faith.

When we’re overwhelmed by affliction, the simplest gratitude may be all we can muster—and it is enough. A small but beautiful moment of belief gently turns our hearts and heads toward our Savior. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come to a desperately dark moment, completely at the end of myself, and I’ve sensed the Spirit’s gentle nudge, “Thank Me.” In response, I’ve forced myself to thank Him for something seemingly insignificant—“Thank You for this cup of coffee.” Then I added something like, “Thank You for the sunshine streaming through my window.” Then, with a little more resolve, “thank You for being with me.” Maybe that’s all the capacity I have for gratitude at that moment, but more often than not, that simple act of thanksgiving inspires me to thank Him for even more of His gifts and His goodness.

Although my circumstances haven’t changed, my perspective has. God knew what He was doing when He commanded us again and again in Scripture to thank Him. thanksgiving is the way we enter into and experience His presence (see Ps. 100:4). To say, “thank You, God” is to perceive Him with us in our suffering.

I long to put on gratitude and sing like a bird in the dead of winter, don’t you? Your winter may be strikingly different than mine. Perhaps you’ve discovered your spouse is having an affair, your child has a drug addiction, or your commitment to honor God as a single person in a couple’s world is harder than anyone can imagine. But like me, you’ve tasted enough of the goodness of God to want more—even though it requires much surfing. To help us sing through our winters, no matter how small or meager, our thanksgiving will enlarge our hearts to trust Him more and perceive the reality of God’s fiercely tender presence again.

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