My heart is glad and my tongue rejoices, my body will also rest secure. Psalm 16:9
My friend Jeanne is irrepressibly effervescent. She has a built-in “cheer level.” Sometimes her life looks like the cartoon where the Roadrunner gets crushed, flattened and blown up by Wile E. Coyote, but always bounces back. This girl is emotionally spring-loaded. Sometimes I —secretly—long to poison her petunias.
Some of us aren’t genetically wired for this. We carry our jarful of dreams, then—splat—we hit some bad patches, the glass breaks, our dreams spill out. We get duped into the Humpty Dumpty mindset: this is my cracked cup and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put it back together again.
So we sing, it’s my party, and I’ll whine if I want to. Some of us mentally stick out our tongue to show the world—and God—we’ll do it our way, so there.
Whining is simply “protesting in a childish manner.” When Jesus says we should come to him as little children, it doesn’t mean grumbling and bellyaching. At the core of whining is a demanding spirit, a sense of entitlement. When do I get my rewards for my good deeds, my long suffering, my faithfulness?
Entitlement and joy can’t co-exist. It’s mission impossible. Trust me on this one.
My grandma always chirped: you are what you think. It’s so simple, so basic. Our life is what our thoughts make it. If we want to take this life and love it, let’s not waste time pondering why we don’t, but how we can.
Take this thought: The great blessings in life are present in your thoughts today.