Sometimes I get overwhelmed.
My disease has been on a steady decline and it has taken most of my energy with it. And it is easy in these moments of hard to get overwhelmed. To wonder where the energy for the next moment will come from. It’s easy to let the pain of today and the unknown of tomorrow take what energy is there and waste it away.
We all have those moments, don’t we?
I wonder sometimes if, in some small way, that is how Jesus felt in that garden when he was sweating blood over what was to come. If in the moment of hard it was easy for Him to be overwhelmed, too, despite knowing and believing in and loving His Father.
And then I remember that even though He did get overwhelmed, even though He did ask for the cup to pass Him by as I so often want to do, He did something else in the middle of it all that night…
He took action.
He gave thanks.
Eucharisteo is how Jesus, at the Last Supper, showed us to transfigure all things – taking the pain that is given, giving thanks for it, and transforming it into a joy that fulfills all emptiness.
It’s in those moments that I remember what He did first. With a dread that must have been filling the heart of Man, He took what He had left of His life and gave thanks. And then He shared it with all that were there with Him.
Jesus took the pain that was to come for Him and, in the midst of what must have been overwhelming, acknowledged the Father. He acknowledged that what was going to be brutal for Him would be transformed into grace, because that is what the Father does. He didn’t let what would overwhelm Him in the garden overshadow the beauty He trusted would come. A beauty that only God can bring from the hard.
The same way God wants to transforms our hard.
We all know how God turned the pain of Jesus’ journey into joy for each of us. And it all started with an action… not just of Jesus saying yes, but of Jesus giving thanks.
And so, as I lay in the quiet with my own pain, feeling the natural inclination to be overwhelmed, I take action as He did. I give thanks for the gifts that come from pain. I give thanks for the people and the moments and the experiences. I give thanks to a Savior who was willing to go through the pain so that the hard I live through could also be redeemed.
I give thanks even when I don’t easily see the gifts, because I trust that He is making beauty in places my eyes can’t see. And I am taking my thankfulness, I am breaking it into pieces and I am sharing it with all of you.
Can we do that with each other today? In the midst of the craziness and the pain and things that overwhelm us, can we sit at the table and share in that for which we are thankful?
Because that is where, together, I know we will find our joy.
By Sara Frankl, Gitzen Girl