Jesus and the Necessity of Gratitude
Author: Stan Guthrie
November 29, 2024
One of the easiest sins in which to fall—especially for Christians—is ingratitude, because we have so much for which to be thankful.
“By nature, human beings tend to be ungrateful,” my friend and former colleague Jerry Newcombe points out. “My mom used to always say: ‘As a rule, a man’s a fool; When it’s hot, he wants it cool. When it’s cool, he wants it hot—always wanting what is not.’”
Or, as Jerry quoted the philosopher Immanuel Kant as saying, “Give a man everything he wants, and at that moment, everything will not be everything.”
One day Jesus encountered such ingratitude while on the way to Jerusalem, traversing what Puritan commentator Matthew Henry called “the frontier-country, the marches that lay between Samaria and Galilee.”
On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us” (Luke 17:11-13).
Jesus is called aside by the plaintive shouts of men afflicted with a serious skin condition. Bible scholars generally don’t believe their disease was modern-day leprosy, but clearly it fell under the unhappy strictures of the Old Testament law.
These ten men knew the law. They had to; it was a matter of life and death. But they also knew something of the kindness and power of Jesus. Surely, they must have thought, if Jesus can cure the blind, heal the lame, and raise the dead, he has the power to help us, too? They were already outcasts and had nothing to lose.
When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests” (Luke 17:14a).
Any cure, according to the Book of Leviticus, would need the equivalent of a Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, so that the formerly suffering could be ritually restored to the community. It didn’t matter whether a well-known healer such as Jesus had performed a miracle. The ten men would still have to do the paperwork.
I am reminded of the Old Testament story of Naaman, the Syrian general. When the prophet told Naaman to bathe in the Jordan, the strange task seemed beneath the dignity of a great military commander. But a wise servant encouraged Naaman to swallow his pride and do it in faith. He did, and healing quickly followed.
Here the ten face a similar test. Will they go to the priests? How can they, since Jesus has done nothing outwardly to assure them of a cure? “This,” Henry notes, “was a trial of their obedience.” How would they respond?
And as they went they were cleansed (Luke 17:14b).
Note the progression: “as they went they were cleansed.” The obedience precedes the healing. The obedience was part and parcel of receiving God’s unmerited grace. The same is true today for all who encounter Jesus on the way.
While we can never earn God’s grace, in everyday life we can short-circuit it with our self-destructive disobedience. The late Robertson McQuilkin emphasized two critical factors—trust and obedience—as integral to the walk of faith. Trust is one step, obedience the other. Emphasizing one over the other will leave you, in McQuilkin’s words, “hopping mad.” Here the ten do both—trust and obey—and receive the blessing.
Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan (Luke 17:15-16).
We don’t know how far they had gone. I’m guessing that the return trip was more than a few steps; otherwise, there is no compelling reason why the other nine would not have come, too. Going back to Jesus definitely involves a detour, a change in plans.
Until this point, the ten lepers have acted in concert: They had lived together, cried out together, gone off together, and been cleansed together. Now, however, one peels off like a jet leaving formation and heads for Jesus. Something is different: Perhaps his skin is clear, or the constant itching and pain are gone. Whatever has happened, the man knows he has been blessed, and the blessing requires a response. First he sees, then he turns, then he praises.
According to Robert Emmons of the University of California-Davis, the word thanks and its cognates appear in the Bible more than 150 times, and gratitude has been a cherished virtue down through church history. Jonathan Edwards, in his classic work A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections, notes approvingly the “gracious stirrings of grateful affection toward God.” These the Samaritan displays with joy.
And then, with the Samaritan still humbly at Jesus’ feet, come three pointed, rapid-fire questions that cast a shadow over the celebration.
Then Jesus answered, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” (Luke 17:17-18).
Truth be told, I’m more troubled by Jesus’ response to the nine than by their apparent lack of gratitude. Weren’t they only doing what he had asked, going to the priests? Jesus surely would understand their lack of thankfulness. They were only following orders.
Only Jesus didn’t understand. Though already having rewarded their obedience, he wanted something more. He sought their gratitude. And was this really so much to expect? “Gratefulness,” Emmons notes, “is a knowing awareness that we are the recipients of goodness.” Didn’t these men know?
The nine who did not give thanks were not only rude. They were also ignorant, misaligned with the truth of the universe: We are the recipients, not the creators, of goodness. In acknowledging this simple truth we ennoble ourselves. “God,” John Piper says, “is the one Being in all the universe for whom seeking his own praise is the ultimately loving act.”
Given that fact, praise is not a mere option. It is a joyful inevitability in a world designed and upheld by God. The only question is whether we will, like the children crying out before the Lord in Jerusalem, add our voices to the choir.
And when we turn our focus from ourselves to Him, paradoxically, we are the ones who benefit. “The self,” in the words of Emmons, “is a very poor place to find happiness or meaning in life.” Studies show that gratitude is associated with “pro-social behaviors” and with improved emotional well-being.
Organizational consultant Sean Doyle suggests that “by reframing the events of our lives in positive ways and including a glimmer of gratitude, we … increase our sense of coherence with the world.” Such glimmers can lighten our misery and energize us for more effective service—in the workplace and in life.
And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well” (Luke 17:19).
I wonder how the nine felt when the man, rising from his worship, finally caught up with them, telling of his grateful exchange with Jesus. They had missed the opportunity to deepen their elation by giving thanks. Henry says that the grateful man received more than the other nine because “he had his cure confirmed particularly with an encomium: Thy faith hath made thee whole” (emphases in original). The nine had their cure; the one had his cure, plus a relationship with Jesus.
As with the ten, just as there are no barriers to experiencing God’s grace, neither are there excuses. If we want more of his blessings, we must praise him for those we already have. A thankful heart always leads to more blessings, even if we seemingly don’t have a lot for which to be thankful. The blessings may come quietly, unexpectedly, or in disguise, but we must choose gratitude to receive them, for our own good.
“For everyone who has,” Jesus said, “will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him.” God’s blessings are available to us, if we will but take them, with thanksgiving.
Stan Guthrie is Minister of Communications for New Covenant Church in Naperville. This article is adapted from his book, All That Jesus Asks: How His Questions Can Teach and Transform Us (Baker Books, 2010, available from the author).
Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash.
BACK