Complaint & Perspective
When Blessings Become Background Noise
I complain about dishes because I ate.
I complain about my job because I have one.
I complain about making the bed because I have a safe place to sleep.
… Wow ~ I complain about noise because I have people in my life.
I complain about wrinkles and gray hair because I’ve lived long enough to earn them.
Funny how easily evidence of blessing can become a source of irritation.
The circumstances didn’t change.
My perspective did.
And that means something to me today.
So many things are taken for granted simply because they have become normal. Provision becomes expected. Work becomes aggravation. Shelter becomes ordinary. The people around us become interruptions. Another day of life becomes something we assume we were owed.
Yet Scripture tells us, “Give thanks in all circumstances.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:18
Not for every circumstance. Not pretending everything is good. But learning to recognize God even while standing in the middle of what frustrates me.
Because complaint has a way of narrowing my vision until all I can see is what is wrong.
Gratitude does something different.
It gets me out of myself.
It reminds me that “every good and perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17), including some of the things I have become so accustomed to having that I barely recognize them as gifts anymore.
Food.
Work.
Shelter.
People.
Another day of life.
When I consciously replace complaint with gratitude, I begin training my mind to look for what is good, what is possible, and what can be done instead of constantly searching for what is wrong.
Paul tells us to fix our thoughts on whatever is true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and worthy of praise. (Philippians 4:8)
That isn't passive thinking.
That's discipline.
And following Jesus should continually challenge the way I see what is right in front of me.
“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” — Romans 12:2
Maybe part of that renewal happens in moments this ordinary.
Before I complain.
Before irritation takes over.
Before I make everything about me.
I can stop long enough to recognize what is actually in front of me.
Not pretending everything is good.
Not ignoring what needs to change.
But refusing to become so consumed with what inconveniences me that I become blind to what God has already placed in my hands.
Today, I want to complain a little less.
Notice a little more.
Thank God a little faster.
And remember that some of the things I call ordinary today are things I once prayed for — or things someone else is praying for right now.
