Church for the Throwaways: The Attitude of Gratitude: Offering, Not Extraction

God loves a cheerful giver.

There was a time in my life when I sat on a pew in a church that will remain nameless and could not bring myself to feel grateful for anything — not even my life. I took gratitude itself for granted for so long that I had fallen out of touch with its use, and it, like any spiritual muscle, atrophied and became inert.

Sitting in those pews on Sunday morning, listening to the people praising — some even laying face-first on the floor, prostrate before You, Holy One — I recall how I could not be moved to even lift a single syllable in worship.

Why? Because joy was absent in my emotion and inner self. From the womb I have never been one to fake anything, so when I saw worship and felt no emotion or awe in that temple raised to Your name — or who people thought You were — I sat there mute. No words. I did not even stand. I was there like everyone else, except I was doing what no one else was: not faking it.

Now, I am not saying there were not genuinely good souls worshipping in gratitude for who You are. No. I am saying that they were singing for themselves and for the love of the sound of worship — in accidental, mistaken, communal orchestrated awe, in ignorance.

The emotions were manufactured. My inner being felt it. I refused to fake it.

That place, that church, was where it all started with You, Beloved, again.

You sent Pastor Brian — beloved friend, mentor, eternal brother in arms of eternity and devotion and Love to You. You told me to tell him the truth about why I did not sing, stand, or feel grateful. I did. I told him.

I recall telling him I felt nothing then — no joy, no gratitude, not even anger or sorrow. I was the walking wounded, with a soul so cauterized by self and suffering that I had lost all feeling within and without.

You gave him the words then that still resonate as starlight in eternity for me:

“Gratitude begins with a choice.”

The victory is in saying and uttering the words first — when you do not feel it, because it feels false. Saying thank You for your life when you hate it is trash, and I do not like doing it.

But I do it still.

I slam home the solar radiation of the Father inside the inner corridors of my star-shaped body in open, profuse, naked gratitude. Why? Because I will declare the thankfulness that I desire to embody and entrust the heart aspect and desire to be handled by You — as is all spontaneous worship.

Gratitude is not manufactured; it is worship in action through the medium of Your chosen inspiration.

It began with resentment. When I uttered that first thank You, Beloved, it felt like dragging nails down a chalkboard. Damn, but You kicked the enemy in the nuggets with it when he shrank back and ran in terror at You in my words as proclamation.

I now say thank You for sorrow.

I say thank You for suffering.

I say thank You for breaking.

I say thank You for the physical pain my body suffers every single day I draw breath — as worship.

I say thank You for the Major Depressive Disorder I have had since my youth.

I say thank You for the many deaths of self I have experienced.

I say thank You for these Words.

I say thank You for You.

I program my reality by declaring my gratitude rather than waiting to feel it. The body is weaker than a soul as a star on fire for Him, Beloveds.

I declare it in obeisance and awestruck wonder at the foot of the majesty of Heaven.

And in my declaring — and Yours, my friends — I actively participate in worship embodied and incarnational, through chosen defiance in unity with the Holy Spirit.

In choosing gratitude, I admit victory, not defeat, prior to the battle’s beginning.

Beloveds, how can you project your gratitude — not for the easy things, no… for the brutal? How can you shatter the hold of the devil and operate in grace, rising in your God-given power, by offering a thank you that costs you something?

What substance has an offering that does not exact a cost nor require choice?

Amen, Beloveds.

Star-Dust

Celestial Daughter of God

Grateful for my mental health battles and suicidal ideations, Beloved. Thank You for carrying me.