Gratitude for Grace
If you’ve been reading 7 Prodigals a while, you’ve been introduced to Jake. He’s my 80-pound chocolate Labrador Retriever. To the best of my recollection, I’ve owned 13 dogs in my life. I’ve owned dogs that were better trackers, better pointers, better retrievers, better protectors, better at catching frisbees, better at riding in the truck, better blood lines, bigger, and smarter than Jake. But I’ve never owned a more grateful dog than Jake. I’m not sure gratitude is something typically sought by those choosing puppies. Yet, my experience with Jake is that gratitude changes everything.
To understand my perspective, allow me to tell you a little about Jake’s history as it’s been shared with me. My understanding is that a single mom purchased two chocolate male lab puppies to raise indoors with her children. If you know anything about lab puppies, you’re probably smirking about now. You see, young labs are notorious for chewing absolutely any and everything. Apparently, this young, beleaguered, mom was nearing the end of her rope from these two insatiable four-legged chewing machines destroying her possessions before she arrived home from work one afternoon and found her living room sofa deconstructed in a manner that every Labrador Retriever owner can envision. As you might imagine, that was the last straw. She called a friend who worked at a hunting preserve and asked him to take both dogs. With one call, Jake and his brother went from living in an air-conditioned house and playing with children to individual outdoor kennels surrounded by about a hundred other individually kenneled howling, barking, hunting dogs. While the hunting dogs raised in that setting thrived, loving the thrill of the hunts, Jake wilted. He was a posh living-room-eating indoor dog. He didn’t adjust. He wouldn’t hunt. He barely ate. He grew depressed and listless as he shrunk into his new reality of incarceration.
On Mother’s Day 2020, my son, who worked at the same hunting preserve, introduced my wife and me to Jake, who had another name at the time, and told us that he was trying to figure out what to do with this dog who was simply not a good fit. We had just lost our beloved Molly, our 13-year-old lab, and had agreed we didn’t want another dog. Jake looked miserable. And my wife fell in love. I put him in a dog box in the back of my truck, and just like that, Jake had a new name and a new home. On our way home, my wife began making plans to sell her bright red mustang with the white racing stripes and unblemished black leather interior to buy “an old Jeep” to transport her new dog, instantly making Jake the most expensive dog we’ve ever been given.
That was 3.5 years ago, and from the moment we opened the door to his kennel, Jake has expressed gratitude. It’s hard to explain, but a spirit of gratitude shines through nearly everything the dog does. He’s not chewed a single item! He communicates gratitude through his eyes, his obedience, the way he greets us when we get home, the way he wants to be as close as possible at all times, the way he interacts with others… It’s just different, obviously different. This dog came face-to-face with the consequences of his behaviors, was freed from them, and his gratitude for that freedom changed who he is.
When I was in high school, I had a friend a little older than me. We worked together on my family’s farm. He worked hard, but he partied just as hard. He routinely mixed alcohol and drugs to the point he blacked out with no memory of what had taken place. Like many young men, he was proud of his behaviors as he spiraled toward inevitable ruin. Eventually, in a drunken rage, he killed his brother-in-law. He was convicted and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. He lost his wife and two daughters in the process. Fifteen years later, we reconnected when I was serving through a weekend prison ministry called Kairos, and my friend accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior. Eight years later, he was released from prison. I don’t know that I’ve ever met a man more grateful for the smallest things in life. He thanks God and others for the kinds of things most of us never notice. He came face-to-face with the consequences of his behaviors, was freed from them, and his gratitude for that freedom changed who he is.
If I’ve learned anything from watching the two of them and comparing them to others, it’s that when we’re truly grateful for freedom, that gratitude spills over into every area of our lives. But when our primary gratitude is on smaller things, it doesn’t necessarily spread to other areas.
I pastor a church called Grace Pointe. The name was chosen before I arrived, so I can’t take any credit. But I love the name Grace Pointe. Why? Because grace is the point. We can thank God for our loved ones, our possessions, our health, or our jobs. Though our gratitude for those things may not affect how we engage the rest of the world at all; and even if it does, what if they are taken away? But gratitude for grace changes everything.
Christians have many different motivations for serving. Some serve out of obligation. Some are committed to tradition. Some are focused on emotions or social status. Some simply serve out of habit. But there is something so different, so fresh, so inviting, and so empowered when Christians are motivated by their gratitude for grace. That spirit of gratitude shines through. It’s just different, obviously different.
Grace is the freedom from the consequences of our sin that Jesus gave us when he traded his life for our sin on the cross. When we have seen our brokenness, when we have walked through the darkness, when we have been alone in our shame and guilt, there is nothing so beautiful as the Light of the World shining upon us and offering us freedom from the chains we deserve. Unlike anything the world has to offer, grace cannot be taken away. When our focus is on our freedom from the consequences of our sin, our gratitude for grace changes everything. It changes who we are. It changes what we notice. It changes how we interact with others. It changes how we respond to challenge, offense, and loss. It changes our walk, and it changes our talk. Gratitude for grace changes everything.