Ever notice how some people radiate joy, even in the hardest circumstances?
I mean, really radiate.
Not the fake kind. Not the “everything’s fine” mask.
But something deeper.
Something that hums beneath the surface.
A kind of lightness that isn’t about circumstances at all.
Paul, sitting in a prison cell, writes to his friends about joy.
Joy.
From a prison cell.
Not exactly the place you expect to find it.
But there it is.
Philippians, a letter pulsing with joy, written by a man in chains.
How is that possible?
Maybe Paul knew something.
Something powerful.
Something about the Spirit’s power to choose gratitude, even when everything else is falling apart.
The Choice
Let’s talk about choice.
Because that’s what it is.
A choice.
Gratitude isn’t a feeling that floats down from the sky on a sunny day.
It’s a decision.
A posture.
A way of seeing.
“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”
(1 Thessalonians 5:16–18)
All circumstances.
Not just the good ones.
Not just when the bills are paid and the sun is shining and your coffee is perfect.
All.
Circumstances.
Even the hospital room.
Even the job loss.
Even the heartbreak.
Anchored in Something Unchanging
So, how do you do it?
How do you choose gratitude when everything in you wants to scream, or hide, or just give up?
You anchor your happiness in something unchanging.
Or better—Someone.
God’s goodness.
God’s faithfulness.
God’s presence.
Because everything else is shifting sand.
But God’s love? God’s goodness? That’s bedrock.
Paul knew this.
He wasn’t rejoicing because prison was fun.
He was rejoicing because he was anchored in something deeper, something eternal.
The Hum Beneath the Surface
There’s a hum beneath the surface of life.
A resonance.
A whisper that says, “There’s more. There’s always more.”
A good meal with friends.
A sunrise.
A newborn’s cry.
Even the ache of longing.
All of it points to something.
To Someone.
And when we tune in to that hum, gratitude becomes possible—even in the hard places.
Gratitude in the Hard Places
Let’s be honest.
Choosing gratitude in the hard places is not easy.
It feels like holding the jagged pieces of your life, and somehow, seeing beauty in the broken edges.
But here’s the deal:
Gratitude in the hard places is powerful.
It heals.
It opens us up.
It lets grace in.
It’s not about pretending the pain isn’t real.
It’s about seeing that even here, even now, God is present.
And sometimes, that’s enough.
How Do We Do This?
You start small.
A breath.
A prayer.
A whispered “thank you” for the tiniest gift.
You name the good, even if it’s just one thing.
You remember the times God showed up before.
You trust that God is still at work, even when you can’t see it.
You feed gratitude, and it grows.
The Spirit’s Power
This isn’t about willpower.
It’s about the Spirit’s power.
The Holy Spirit gives us the strength to choose gratitude when we can’t do it on our own.
To see beyond the pain.
To trust that God is doing something, even here, even now.
Paul says, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances” (Philippians 4:11).
Learned.
It’s a process.
A journey.
What Happens When We Choose Gratitude?
Something shifts.
Something opens up.
Gratitude energizes us when we’re demoralized.
Heals us when we’re broken.
Brings hope when we’re in a hopeless state.
It’s not magic.
It’s not instant.
But it’s real.
A Practice
So maybe today, you sit for a moment.
You breathe.
You look around.
You name one thing you’re grateful for.
Just one.
And then maybe another.
You let that gratitude be your prayer.
You let it anchor you in God’s goodness.
You say, “I choose to be grateful.”
And you mean it.
Or at least, you want to mean it.
And that’s enough.
The Invitation
Because this is an invitation.
Not a command.
An invitation to live with open hands.
To see the gifts, even in the hard places.
To trust that God is with you, always.
So, rejoice always.
Pray without ceasing.
Give thanks in all circumstances.
Not because life is always good.
But because God always is.
And that changes everything.
Even in a prison cell.
Even in your hardest place.
You can say, “I choose to be grateful.”
And maybe, just maybe, that’s where joy begins.
Go in Peace, Chuck
