In the spring of 2004, a typical weekday morning took an
unpleasant, dramatic turn. I was heading
to my teaching job at a local community college and planning on dropping my
fifteen-year-old daughter, Danielle, off at our local high school. Although I don’t recall exactly what I said
or did in the minivan that morning that ticked her off, some sort of argument
ensued. Typical. It seemed as though every time I turned
around, there was some sort of major upset or drama with this child. My daughter was constantly lashing out at
someone: her younger brother Jacob,
little sister Laura, her father, or me.
At times, I wondered if this was typical teenage behavior or
whether we were dealing with some other unexplained issue. It felt like I was living with two different
people. My daughter could be sweet and
enjoyable one minute and angry and moody the next. Whatever the root cause, it was beginning to
take a toll on our entire household. My
younger children would often be upset with their sister or reduced to tears,
and my husband and I had begun experiencing greater tension between us,
too. It seemed my angst-ridden daughter
was keeping our entire household in a constant state of turmoil.
During these tense, difficult months, I would frequently
question my skills as a parent and ask myself and God, “Why is this
happening? What have I done to deserve
this?” It seemed so unfair. I had begun feeling like a victim of
circumstances. Poor, miserable me would
often host a pity party. Mentally, I
would remind myself that I had been a good daughter to my parents (and,
consequently, didn’t deserve this situation based on my past wrongs), and I was
a pretty good mother to my children, too.
Nevertheless, I was constantly crying out to God and asking, “Why? Why?
Why?” Some days I just wanted to
crawl into a hole.
After I had dropped Danielle off at school that unfortunate
morning, I seethed inwardly, “How dare you start my day like that!” I was extremely angry, especially considering
the fact that my day was already going to be stressful, since I was going to be
giving final exams to my college math students that day.
Immediately, the thought crossed my mind, “We wrestle not
against flesh and blood.” Ephesians 6:12 had popped into my head, and it
immediately made me feel defensive.
“It sure feels like I’m wrestling my flesh and blood,” my
mind argued.
Within a split second, a portion of another scripture
crossed my mind. This passage had gotten
me through tough times before, and it came back to me again that day at a time
I really needed it: “Do not be anxious
about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with
thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard
your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7, NIV).
My mind then flashed back to the many times I had called my
parents to complain about some situation, and they would usually reply, “Praise
the Lord. Are you thanking God yet,
Marcia?” I found their frequent urgings
and cheerfulness a bit annoying at times.
I didn’t need a guilt trip, when I just wanted a sympathetic ear. Couldn’t they just let me vent? It’s hard to praise the Lord when the car
breaks down, the kids get sick, or there is an unexpected expense, but at that
moment, something clicked in my mind. If
I was supposed to come before God with “thanksgiving” and make my requests
known to him, then that must mean I would have to THANK him for the
problems. After all, if there is a
request, it generally means that there is a problem involved that needs
solving.
Since I was alone in my car and still in an angry frame of
mind, I began shouting in my car: “Thank
you, Lord, that Danielle has a crummy attitude!
Thank you, Lord, that you’re going to send people across her path
today! Thank you, Lord, that you’re
going to be our testimony!” I probably
shouted out several more bits of thanks to God in those few moments and said
whatever came to mind.
If anyone in a passing car had noticed me yelling and
gesturing, they may have thought that I looked like a crazy woman, but I didn’t
care. I felt like the kid who has
finally had enough of the school bully and begins to take action by swinging
his fists and hoping he hits something.
Please note that although I was angry about the situation, I was not mad
at God; however, I was mad at the devil.
Consequently, each time I yelled my thanks to God, I felt like I was
punching the enemy and giving him a busted lip or a bloody nose.
It was quite therapeutic.
The next thing I knew, I began feeling a little cocky. Inwardly, I pictured myself looking like a
boxer, dancing around and taunting his opponent by saying, “You want a piece of
me? You want a piece of me? Just try to get me, punk! I’m not scared of you!”
A new resolve replaced the victim mentality that I had been
operating under for months. That day I
served Satan notice that if he tried to get at me again through my children, I
was going to start thanking God EVERY TIME, whether I felt like it or not. It was like I had suddenly gotten this clever
idea and was boasting to my enemy by saying, “Yeah, I’m going to start thanking
God. What do you think about that, Devil? I’m not going to take this from you
anymore!” No longer was I going to be
bullied or a victim of circumstances. I
didn’t have to take this lying down, but I could now do something proactive and
give the enemy a black eye in the process.
It was freeing to recognize this truth, and this realization transformed
my thinking about dealing with difficult circumstances.
Surprisingly, after my “scream fest,” I began to experience
a strange sort of peace, the peace that “transcends all understanding.” It didn’t make sense, but I was no longer
feeling angry. In fact, I had a
fantastic day and was pleased to learn that Danielle had also had a good day
that day at school. I thought to myself,
“It works!”
Although it didn’t all happen overnight, this experience was
a revelation of God’s truth that would continue to grow and change my
thinking. In the days ahead, I would
cling to this truth to an even greater extent, and it would transform my life. This was the beginning of the Thankful
Principle.
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