Giving Thanks With An Aching Heart
Simeon was due in the middle of November, the day after his big sister’s birthday. It seemed so special to me that the two of them would be born so close together. I imagined with excitement how much fun it would be, albeit a bit overwhelming, to have back to back birthday celebrations right at the start of the holiday season. There would be so much to plan. So much to celebrate.
But Simeon wasn’t born in November as we had expected him to be. Instead, he was ushered into the arms of Jesus at just 14 weeks gestation.
Rather than preparing for our daughter’s birthday while cradling our sweet babe in my womb, or making final arrangements for Thanksgiving with a newborn in my arms, I stumbled into November burdened by grief, aching for our baby gone too soon. Each new day was filled with searingly painful reminders of what wasn’t to be, and it seemed as though the words “give thanks” were pasted on everything around me.
How could I give thanks when death had robbed me of my precious son? How could I give thanks when my arms ached from the emptiness they held?
One day, in the middle of that first November without my baby, I remembered the words of song I used to sing with my family when I was a little girl.
Jesus, we just want to thank you
Jesus, we just want to thank you
Jesus, we just want to thank you
Thank you for being so good.
Gaither Vocal Band, 1974
As this song flooded back into my memory, I wrestled with the Lord. “This doesn’t feel like your goodness. It feels cruel and unbearable. But I’m trying to thank you. I’m trying to find something, anything, to be thankful for in the midst of all of this heartache.“
The lyrics flowed through my mind again and again. Each time, I tried to think of something specific in my life that I could thank the Lord for—my home, my husband, my living children. It was painful and difficult to utter these declarations of thanksgiving before God, but I kept at it.
The more I opened up my heart before God in thanksgiving, the more I was able to recognize the works of His mighty hands in my life. And as I continued in my resolve to magnify His name and thank Him for all that He had done for me, His joy began to flood into my heart, piercing the deepest recesses of my soul.
While I was breathing out thanks to God He was breathing hope and joy into me.
Sweet momma, perhaps you also have experienced moments in your grief when thanking God did not come easily. Perhaps it still doesn’t or never has. How can you praise God when your heart is aching? How can you be filled with thanksgiving when your arms are empty? Perhaps right now your heart feels far from Him. But would you permit me to leave you with this charge today?
“Through Him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge His name.” -Hebrews 13:15
Through Christ, we can have hearts full of gratitude, even when it feels like the world is crashing down all around us. Because Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice—at the cost of His own life—we can choose to thank Him even in the midst of our sorrow. His death on the cross is the very reason we can sing. For through His death and resurrection, we have been offered new life in Him—and our response to such a sacrifice made on our behalf ought to be that of praise and thanksgiving.
Will you allow His praise to flow from your lips, no matter how difficult it may seem at first. Maybe your list of reasons to be thankful will start off simple like mind did—food on the table, the rising of the sun, a place to lay my weary head each night. But as His Spirit continues His work in you, I believe that the natural inclination of your heart will begin to be bent more towards thanksgiving, and a heart rooted in thanksgiving is a heart filled with my joy.
“I will praise the name of God with a song; I will magnify Him with thanksgiving.”
Psalm 69:30
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