Thankfulness in the Dark: Learning to Praise God When Life Doesn’t Make Sense

Scripture says, “Give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess. 5:18).

That verse sounds beautiful printed on a Hobby Lobby sign, hanging above a spotless mantle full of fake pumpkins in mid-November.
It sounds less beautiful when life feels like it just hit you in the chest with a cinder block.

And yet — it’s still true.
It’s still God’s Word.
It’s still His will for us.

Thankfulness in all circumstances is not about pretending life is painless. It’s about trusting that God is faithful even when life is not.

Over the years, God has dragged me (kicking and screaming at times) into this truth. And every time I think I’ve learned the lesson, He takes me deeper.

This blog is one of those deeper dives.


Thankfulness Is a Discipline, Not a Feeling

In Psalm 103, David begins by commanding his own soul:

“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits.”
—Psalm 103:1–2

David isn’t feeling thankful here.
He’s preaching to himself.

Sometimes you have to tell your soul what’s true when your emotions are too exhausted to trust it.

I’ve had seasons like that — seasons where gratitude was the last thing I naturally felt. If you’ve followed my blogs for a while, you know my story well: the joy of my sons, the blessing of marriage, the privilege of ministry… and the grief of losing my son Isaac.

When Isaac passed away on June 27, 2022, nothing in me “felt thankful.” I felt crushed. Empty. Angry.
And yet… even in that darkness, God kept drawing me back to Psalm 103.
“Forget not His benefits.”
Not because the circumstances were good, but because God Himself was still good.

That’s the starting point of thankfulness — not the absence of pain, but the presence of God.


Thankfulness Is Trust When Life Hurts

Paul says it outright:

“Give thanks in all circumstances…”
—1 Thessalonians 5:18

Notice something:
Paul doesn’t say “give thanks for all circumstances.”

I was not thankful for losing Isaac.
No father should ever bury a son.
The grief never goes away — it only changes shape.

But I can be thankful in the circumstances because God walked through them with me.

This same lesson has echoed in other parts of my life:

  • Watching my son Jordan battle epilepsy and face more seizures than any young man should endure.
  • Watching my father struggle through his declining health after years of hard work and Agent Orange exposure in Vietnam.
  • Navigating a surgery of my own and the anxiety that creeps in during recovery.
  • Leading students, athletes, and my own family through seasons of discouragement and uncertainty.

Paul gives us the formula in Philippians 4:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”
—Philippians 4:6–7

Thanksgiving with prayer becomes the doorway to peace.
It takes fear by the throat and says, “You don’t get to run this house.”


Thankfulness Shapes How We Treat People

Once you’ve learned to be thankful in difficulty, something else happens:

You start becoming thankful toward others.

Colossians 3 ties thankfulness to practical, daily relationships:

  • patience
  • forgiveness
  • humility
  • compassion
  • unity
  • worship

When you’re thankful, you’re more gracious toward the irritating coworker.
More patient with your kids.
More forgiving with your spouse.
More joyful at church.

I’ve seen this play out even in small moments — like the mentorship story I wrote recently. My quietest student showed up one morning and handed me a Chicago cassette tape he found. It wasn’t the cassette that moved me — it was the heart behind it.

Thankfulness blooms in these unexpected places.
A tiny act of kindness.
A middle-school football player giving his all.
A shy student showing he really does listen.

Or even a Jeep named Mercy, reminding me every time I drive it of my son Isaac’s unfulfilled promise — and yet of God’s faithfulness in honoring the memory of a great young man.

Gratitude changes how you see people… and how they see Christ in you.


Thankfulness Is the Mark of Spiritual Maturity

Paul wraps up the whole idea with one all-encompassing line:

“Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks…”
—Colossians 3:17

Whatever you do.
Not the big things only.
Not the church things.
Everything.

Coaching young athletes?
Give thanks.

Working at the school store with a hundred loud kids buying snacks and Bubbl’r at the exact same moment?
Give thanks.

Walking through grief?
Give thanks.

Enduring chronic pain?
Give thanks.

Leading a men’s group?
Give thanks.

Why?
Because a thankful man is a transformed man.
And a transformed man becomes a witness without even trying.


Gratitude in Your Dark Place

Maybe you’re in a season where thankfulness feels impossible.
Where the Bible verses sound hollow and your prayers sound tired.

I’ve been there.
I still go there sometimes.
Grief, heartbreak, loss, confusion — they still hit me sideways now and then.

But here’s what I’ve found:

Thankfulness doesn’t deny your pain.
It declares God’s presence in your pain.

That’s where the power is.

Not in putting on a fake smile.
Not in pretending everything is fine.
But in whispering through your tears:
“God, thank You for being here. Thank You that the story isn’t over.”

Gratitude is not the language of shallow believers.
It’s the battle cry of wounded warriors who know their King wins in the end.


A Final Word

If you’ve been reading my blogs for a while, you’ve probably noticed a theme:
Whether I’m talking about coaching, mentoring, music, travel, or theology — gratitude keeps showing up.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t choose this lesson.
Life chose it for me.
And God used it to draw me closer to Him.

So let me end with a simple encouragement:

Your circumstances may not be good.
But your God is always good.
And that’s enough reason to give thanks — even in the dark.

Keep fighting.
Keep praying.
Keep remembering.
Keep thanking.
And keep trusting the One who walks with you through every valley.

Soli Deo Gloria.

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