Gladness or Gratitude?

Distinguishing between the two just might change everything.

Those of us who are enduring heartbreak or disappointment during this sanctioned ‘season of gratitude’ are probably feeling a little off-balance right now.

Yes, we could make lists of things for which we should be grateful, but when our hearts aren’t in it, what’s the point? Many suggest that making the list is what will lead to gratitude, that the discipline of thinking about all our blessings will evaporate the grey cloud above our heads. And this very well might work for some of us, at times. It has worked for me on many occasions too. There are moments, though, when making gratitude lists is not reasonable and may even be cruel. Consider telling a grieving parent whose child has died to count their blessings as a remedy for their heartbreak, or suggesting such a thing to an unemployed person who is losing their home.

Gratitude, like everything else, is contextual.

As I mentioned in my previous article, gratitude isn’t only a virtue, it’s an emotional and a reactive attitude to what is real. When the real in our lives is a mixed bag or even heavily weighted on the disappointing side of the scale, it’s nearly impossible to conjure real gratitude. After all, the disappointments don’t just disappear like water down the drain. They impact and shape us, sometimes in profound ways.

Being overlooked for promotion is more than the loss of opportunity. It may impact our identity and sense of purpose.

Losing a friendship isn’t just a loss of connection. It may skew the way we see our worth.

The new limits of our aging bodies are more than inconveniences. They may thrust us into fear of both life and death.

Coming to terms with who our children are versus who we imagined them to be isn’t just eye opening. This process can, and often does, induce deep regret and sorrow for how we’ve failed them.

Arriving at mid-life and realizing that we’re still battling many of the same demons we were at twenty is more than just annoying. This realization may call into question all we thought we knew about God and ourselves.

Perhaps we can’t experience deep and lasting gratitude because we haven’t allowed ourselves to grieve our losses, big and small. We’ve been busy, distracted, and unsure if ruminating in this discomfort is even useful. America has historically been an overly optimistic culture and we’ve inherited a belief that limits are an illusion if we’re willing to work hard and never quit pushing. Yet, life teaches us the truth. We are limited, fragile creatures in a world fraught with uncertainty and danger.

What is possible when we stop avoiding grief and, instead, welcome disappointment as a teacher? I’m experimenting with the possibilities, and I think one is a truer, deeper gratitude. As I reflect on my failures, regrets, and sorrows I am seeing a wider and more intricate tapestry than I suspected.

I’ll give you a difficult-to-write-about example. Some of my deepest regrets in life are the times when I failed my children. I’ve been exploring those failures and taking a fearless moral inventory of where I went wrong. My soul’s first response to facing up to these things is to look away. I mean, come on. Just the buzzing-in-the-background knowledge that I’ve failed them is enough to make me weep. Reviewing memories and events, lost opportunities to choose love and connection, out-and-out failures to be what they deserved – of course I want to look away!

But I’m refusing to give into that temptation, and because of that, my soul is often flooded with despair. I’ve longed to turn back time and have a re-do. I know I would do better if given the chance, because I’m wiser, more mature, and more loving.

And that’s where this process gets interesting.

When I sit with the story long enough, I begin to see how I’ve been healed through my relationship with my children – precisely through the process of trying, failing, repenting, learning, and growing.

I hate that the following statement is true, but it is:

In many ways, I have healed at their expense.

It’s tempting to sink further in despair as I consider this, but I can’t escape this phrase:

I have healed.

It’s miraculous and true. Each of my children has helped heal me and I am stronger, braver, more loving, and beautiful because of them. And when I think about that, I am deeply disappointed in my failures and also overwhelmed with gratitude – at the same time.

Thank you, God, for not wasting anything, even my failures.

I’m convinced that I could not have experienced this depth of gratitude for what my real and living God has done in me – and despite of me! – if I didn’t first experience the deep heartache and crushing disappointment of the not-rightness. I’m aware that what I’m saying amounts to the adage: you can’t appreciate the light without the contrast of the dark.

Yes, that’s precisely what I’m suggesting. And I’m going a little further as well. I’m saying that perhaps, instead of making our gratitude lists for the month of November, we should spend some time exploring our disappointments and disenchantments. Research reveals that regret over disappointments (in ourselves and our circumstances) is a helpful tool when we allow it to shape us.

It helps us make sense of past experiences, informs healthier future behaviors, facilitates self-awareness, and even fosters peace in our interpersonal relationships.

Another aspect to experiencing transformational gratitude is learning the difference between prepositional versus propositional gratitude. Propositional gratitude is more about appreciation or gladness. It’s shallow and fleeting because it’s so relative. What is ‘good’ today might not be ‘good’ tomorrow, especially when we’re comparing ourselves with others.

And I think gladness and appreciation are what we’re engaging in when we make our gratitude lists, insist on gratitude from others, and say that we’re grateful for a clean bill of health and that our favorite sports team won their last game, all in one breath. We are appreciating the ‘good’ things in life, but we aren’t drilling down to gratitude.

Prepositional gratitude, on the other hand, indicates that I am grateful to someone for something they provided which I did not possess on my own.

The cognitive element involved is recognizing my dependence and neediness. It requires a posture of humility.

And this is why disappointment can either frustrate or enhance the gratitude process, depending upon where we start.

When we experience disappointment and fail to listen to what it’s speaking to us, we have a hard time getting to gratitude because we have often been equating gratitude with appreciation. Disappointment makes appreciation and gladness, or propositional gratitude, difficult to come by. However, when we do allow our disappointments to speak, we may experience authentic humility.

And humility gives us brand new eyes and ears.

A humble heart posture makes it possible to ask questions like:

• What story does the not-rightness want to tell?

• When we failed, how did it change us?

• When someone failed us, what did we learn?

• How have we been formed by these disappointing experiences?

• Are we holding the bad alongside the good and hearing, with open hearts and minds, what the contrast speaks?

• When we consider God’s work within the not-rightness, what stirs up in us?

• What actions are we willing to take based on this information?

• How can our light shine brighter because of the darkness we’ve encountered?

We’re living in a time in which there is simply no grace for imperfection, no margin for mess-ups. We cancel people immediately, formulate harsh judgements based on cursory “research” fed to us by algorithms, hastily end relationships and conversations, and ruthlessly beat ourselves up for shortcomings. It’s no wonder we’re afraid to sit with disappointment and allow it to speak to us. We’ve set standards for ourselves and others that are utterly impossible to achieve or attain.

Perhaps this holiday season, we can give the gift of release. We can release ourselves from fantasies of perfection. We can release our lives from inhuman goals. We can release others from impossible expectations that even God does not have of them.

Then, maybe, this release will lead to repentance, forgiveness, and eventually, repair. What a gift that would be!

Instead of settling for shallow appreciation for all we have as citizens of the most affluent and powerful nation in human history, the invitation may be to cast our internal nets wider and drill down a little deeper.

• What have I received from God that I could not provide for myself?

•  What has someone else done for me that I was unable to do for myself?

• When have I healed because of the sacrifice of others?

• What painful journey turned out to be for my benefit?

• When did my failure allow someone else to help me?

• What have my shortcomings taught me about my need?

As we sit with these kinds of questions, authentic gratitude has room to breathe. Though this kind of list might not make it on our Instagram feed, and sadly might not even be palatable to impatient and shortsighted people, it creates a context for the genuine to take root. We may find ourselves looking at our lives with an entirely new lens, one which values our human fragility because of the truth it has taught us about the reality of love and the shocking nature of true grace.

That kind of gratitude has the potential to transform us, doesn’t it? Imagine families, churches, and homes filled with humble people who fearlessly and lovingly hold the real in tension with hope, who genuinely give thanks for what matters most while refusing to settle for easy appreciation for that which brings comfort without healing. Imagine relationships characterized by deep gratitude for the love we’ve been given rather than by self-protective entitlement. What would the world look like if we had eyes to see the undeserved, unearned gifts all around us?

I offer you this breath prayer for allowing disappointment to speak eye-opening truth to you this holiday season:

Inhale deeply. I welcome the humility that comes from this disappointment.

Exhale slowly. May my eyes and ears be open to shocking grace.

Amen.