“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart;
 I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.”
—Psalm 9:1

Several weeks back, Stephanie and I were blessed to go and see The Star Wars in Concert (it may score a high nerd factor rating, but the show was nonetheless fantastic). We received these two tickets as an early Christmas present from her dad. In addition, we also ended up with a free dinner at Chick-fil-A before the concert thanks to a former co-worker of Stephanie’s who is now a manager at that location.

So after sliding into a booth and setting our trays in front of us, I was overcome with gratitude to the near point of tears. A date-night with my beautiful bride, a unique concert we most likely would not have ever gotten to attend, and a free dinner—all provided by our Heavenly Father. This evening was a gift from God, provided through the generosity of others (and topped with a gentle spirit nudge to remember the tickets the night before).

And yet I had to wonder, why do I not feel this more often? We have been blessed far more than with a pleasant evening. We have a new home, two working vehicles, good health, full stomachs, and most importantly a wonderful, happy, healthy child. More than that, we have been forgiven of every wrong, risen from spiritual death and reborn into new life. We have been credited the righteousness of another, and now live in freedom from our chosen rebellion.

Why does this alone not bring me to my knees in gratitude every time I consider it? How have I become so callous to miss, not just the nuance blessings of life, but the very essence of existence?

However, maybe that is the point. How can we grasp the depth of any good book without noticing the profundity of its elements? A story comes to life as we better understand its tone, its plot, and its characters. And to appreciate a character, you must study his idiosyncrasies. We may gather the greater concept from the beginning, but to fully comprehend the big picture, we must appreciate the finer details of every stroke of the pen.

I conclude that each small gift is a lesson in gratitude. Our ability to thank the person who bought and wrapped the present under the tree is merely a preliminary step to thanking the God from “whom all blessings flow.” And with each “thank you” we grow into a greater realization to the bigger gifts that God has given us.

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be born a twin. To go through life, not just having a sibling so close in age, but one that looks nearly identical to me. Would I be annoyed by the confusion that such similarity creates, or would I harness this power for humor purposes?

For years we had two identical brothers attending our church, and for the majority of that time I had difficulty telling them apart. There were many Sundays that I would use some generic greeting when encountering either brother for fear of mistaking one for the other.

But like a good photo hunt game, it was valuable to see the two brothers together to compare. When I saw them in the same place, I realized what made each unique, and thus could then tell them apart.

Sometimes we need things in close proximity to identify one from another. Like a mixed-up order received in the drive-thru, we must taste the diet and the regular in immediate succession to discover which is which.

So I was reading in Matthew the other day, where Jesus is giving the Sermon on the Mount. In Chapter 5, verse 43, He tells us, "You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you" Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in Heaven."

This is a familiar verse, one that we all learn in second grade Sunday School.

"He causes His son to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous."

We witness this seemingly unfair treatment, and thus we question it, "Why?" Why would a loving God let bad things happen to good people?

"If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?"

And for the first time, I saw something deeper: God expects us to be different.

How would the world know what makes a Christian different unless they were to see us in the same circumstances as they found themselves in.

Ravi Zacharias often quotes an old Indian proverb, "What you're filled with spills when you are bumped." Our cups often look the same at just a glance, but when we are placed in unfavorable circumstances, we give others the opportunity to find our whether we are diet or regular.

"'I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me' (Phil 4:13), like go hungry, get cancer, be killed and go home." -John Piper

The world expects one to stay married to a faithful spouse, and divorce an adulterous partner. That's what the "pagans" would do. But God wants something different out of us. He wants us to reflect His character, His love, His forgiveness, His Covenant-Keeping Grace. How can we divorce our spouse when we realize that there is nothing that they can do against us that we have not committed against God… and been forgiven of?

How can a Christian get cancer, lose a loved one, become paralyzed, or lose all their possessions in a fire? Perhaps so that the world can see a different response to a "hopeless situation."

And what is that proper response: I think it boils down to gratitude. We must understand that in truth we are all guilty, and none of us are innocent (Romans 3). John Piper suggests the question is not "How come so many are sick?" but "How come so many are well?" I think when we realize we deserve only Hell, and start counting our blessings and thanking God for the little things, we don't have time to complain and ask God, "Why me?"

I think that's the only way a mourning couple can praise God after losing a little baby; by thanking God for the short time that they were able to spend with their child… that really wasn't theirs to begin with.

Look at how David responds to God taking away his child: "He answered, "While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, 'Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.' But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me." -2 Samuel 12:22-23

Similar thoughts are echoed in Michael W. Smith's "Hello, Good-bye" written for a couple who lost their little child after only 2 1/2 days.

And so I hold your tiny hand in mine
For the hardest thing I've ever had to face
Heaven calls for you before it calls for me
When you get there, save me a place

A place where I can share your smile
And I can hold you for more than just a while

I must conclude that the world is watching and needs to see our "different" response. In the worst of times it is our opportunity to demonstrate the Glory of God, and to show the world what we are filled with.

We often underestimate the power of prayer. Our limited perspective causes us to often miss is effectiveness, especially considering our narrow existence in light of eternity. So is it any wonder that it is man's propensity to ask, "Do my prayers really matter?"

I asked God this exact question while driving home late the other night. It was raining, and my faulty wipers were rapidly smearing water across the windshield, distorting the road ahead. I peered intently into the black, attempting to make out the obscured yellow and white lines illuminated by my uneven headlamps. Occasionally the rain would slow its intensity for a moment, allowing me an opportunity to ease both the pace of my wipers and my stress level.

Last year at about this time, North East Georgia was going through a serious drought, giving many of us a renewed appreciation and respect for God's control of the weather. This time was no exception, and I not only gave a quick "Thank You" to God for his gift, but a prayer that his blessing would extend to my little town.

However, as I grew closer to home, I pondered the unpleasant vision of me making my way into the house with all my stuff in the drenching rain. So I sent up another request. "Could you hold up the rain for a few minutes until I get into the house, Lord," I prayed.

But immediately the foolishness of my petition became apparent. How ridiculous to think that God's going to redirect the course of nature in order to accommodate my selfish desire to stay dry, especially in the midst of a previously answered prayer.

I promptly voided my request and settled for a second dose of gratitude for the much needed precipitation. But as I pulled into my subdivision, the rain eased to barely a sprinkle.

Probably just a coincidence.

I pulled up into the driveway and loaded up all my paraphernalia. I walked up to the front door, carefully and quietly unlocking it as not to alarm our miniature dachshund Jalepeño. (Apparently I pose a threat entering my own residence, even after three plus years of him living with us. But I digress.)

I opened the door and sneaked through, giving a quick but poignant "Shhhhh!" to Jalepeño's suspicious growl. I unloaded my stuff on the living room couch, and not thirty seconds passed before I heard the rising roar of a deluge being dropped from the sky.

I smiled.

So did God halt the rain just for me?

It’s a warming thought to our linear minds to think that the creator of the universe reached down and separated the rain clouds simply to prevent my person from being soaked. However, I believe my God is beyond such simplicity. He is much too great, not to make such a kind gesture, but to do only that.

He is the creator of the universe, the vastness of which stretches further than the human mind can comprehend and yet He holds its expanding entirety in the palm of His hand. A massive, moving, raging drama unfolds while we witness a still and quiet tapestry of pinpoint lights in the night sky. And if we could escape the pollution of our own manufactured lights, we could witness the innumerable stars, each known by the God that placed it deliberately and strategically in the sky.

And yet even though He created something so enormous, He has numbered the hairs on my head. He intricately wove my being while in the womb, constructed the cellular mechanics down to my DNA (and quite possibly even smaller). He sees my past, my present, and my future, and He can comprehend the infinite possibilities that stem from every decision.

And not just mine, not just yours, but every human being that has lived or ever will live on this earth. No two molecules can collide and escape his notice, for He can see the ripple effect of every impact--FOREVER!

The LORD is all-powerful, all-present, and all-knowing, and anytime He appears to be doing one thing, He is doing ten MILLION things.

I conclude that my Heavenly Father did stop the rain for me… I have no doubt He answered my prayer. However, He did this while accomplishing numerous other purposes in the same stroke of his finger. I’m just humbled that He cared enough to include me in that stroke.