You can listen to this week’s Devotional here
Author: Kaudie McLean
Years ago, during my graduate work in theology, friends moved into a new rental house and invited members of our program to a house blessing. Our hearty gathering went room by room, offering poetry, song, room-specific prayers, and incense; and, in a nod to old traditions, we banged pots in the corners to chase out evil spirits.
In our last ritual act of the evening, we blessed the food, a sumptuous assembly of desserts worthy of the occasion. After saying grace, a small number of us stood in front of the table; but oddly, nobody began serving up the goodies. I wondered what we were all waiting for. Did we bless the food? Yep. Were all the desserts on the table? Check. Did we have utensils, plates, napkins? Uh-huh. I couldn’t figure out why nobody was making a move. So after what seemed a perplexing time of inaction, I approached the table and said, “I think I’ll start while I’m waiting.”
Unbeknownst to me, my friends seized upon my comment. I learned sometime later that it had been circulated as wisdom, traveling from New Haven as far as Seattle, where it apparently showed up in a sermon (I still wonder what the preacher made of it). Upon hearing about this, it occurred to me that I, too, should probably reflect on what others might have found so meaningful in my offhand remark!
I wonder: How often do we find ourselves standing before a feast, yet waiting, for some reason, to dive in? If you’re like me, you have a host of reasons for waiting, reasons based on external circumstances as well as our own reactions to them. Sometimes waiting is not only the sensible thing—it’s the right thing.
And yet. The feast is ready now. It’s a rare occasion when life spares us the circumstances that can make finding joy and appreciating our abundance a challenge. We’ve all gone through times when difficult circumstances seem to follow one on the heels of another, not just adding to our stress and pain but increasing them exponentially and leaving us wondering how to move forward at all, much less with gratitude and joy. Sometimes all we can do is trust that gratitude and joy will return, even if we don’t feel them today.
One of the things I’ve recognized about myself, even in my darkest hours, is that there’s a part of me that tenaciously refuses to give up on joy—because I believe that’s what God truly wants for us. And I also believe there’s a spiritual joy ever available to us, no matter the circumstance. Consider people like Nelson Mandela and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who were able to tap into that joy while imprisoned for their beliefs. Mind you, I’m not saying that it’s easy or that I’ve achieved it.
Still, this, I think, is the journey of faith: to wake up every day with beginner’s mind, trying—without any attachment to succeeding—to find gratitude and joy in this moment.
How do we do that? Too often I get stuck thinking that to experience joy, I should feel grateful. But gratitude is less about feeling and more about giving. My warmest smile and genuine word of appreciation to someone can make the difference between a day with joy and a day without it. And as these things go, I find that when I offer gratitude, I start to feel it as well. There it is suddenly—a spark of joy. That may be all one gets in any given day. But that little mustard seed is enough.
So if you’re waiting for things to get better, waiting for circumstances to change, waiting for this or that so that you can live with gratitude and feel joy again, find even the smallest thing for which to give thanks, and then enjoy whatever abundance already lies before you. You don’t have to stop waiting for the things your heart yearns for. But go ahead. Start while you’re waiting.
