Thank You, Jesus

We’ve all had the experience of waking up at night and not being able to go back to sleep. Such was the case for me not long ago. Usually, in this situation, my mind would find a train of thought and then take off. We all know how that story ends: toss and turn for the next three hours; then, at last, your mind tires out and you fall back to sleep—just in time for the alarm to go off and you have to face the day.

Well, this time I caught my mind before it ran away. Often, a guy will try to pray or focus on his breathing in order to prevent nighttime daydreaming. Instead of exercising those tactics, the Lord placed on my heart the words, Thank you, Jesus. Lo and behold, I fell back to sleep.

Recognizing this success, I began to implore this method more often. Even when trying to fall asleep, I’d simply repeat, Thank you, Jesus. The success I’ve found with this has been profound. I have no doubt that thanking Jesus is powerful in and of itself. But is there more going on here? I think so. 

This whole phenomenon has caused me to think deeper on the nature of gratitude. Most of us already know the power of intentional thanksgiving, both in the spiritual life and in our outlook on life. But this nighttime novelty made me wonder where the faculty of gratitude resides. 

Going back to the sleepless situation, when trying to sleep the mind needs to be at rest. If our minds are engaged in thought, sleeping is out of the question. That’s why reading, watching TV, and the like, have little effect against unwanted thinking, outside of wearing the brain out. So why is gratitude different?

My conclusion is that gratitude is an exercise of the heart not the mind. This is why my Thank you, Jesus at night has such great effect. It inherently disengages the mind, forcing my conscious I to dwell in my heart and not my head. Thus, it gives my mind the space it needs to rest. 

I enjoy philosophy, and phenomenology in particular. Phenomenology seeks to philosophically map out the realm of consciousness. In general, this is a fun intellectual exercise. But in reality, it is also practical.

I call this a practical phenomenology. When I am consciously aware of my human faculties, and of which one I am currently in use of, I become a better operator of myself. My ego, or I, pervades the entirety of my humanity—so much so that there is never a time when I am not. The only moment that occurs is at our death, when I and my body depart. 

Without getting too deep into the philosophical woods, practical phenomenology is consciously concerned about where I am at, at all times. If I am aware of what human faculty I’m currently dwelling in, then I am better equipped to be in control of it, rather than it in control of me.

Take thinking for example. The mind is not the end all be all of my conscious self. It is, no doubt, a highly developed faculty of the human person, which many people spend most of their time in. But there are other dimensions of the human person, such as the memory, the imagination, the heart, our body. All these, and more, help compose the nature of the one human person.

With regard to thinking, if I haphazardly dwell within my thinking capacity, I am basically along for the ride. My train of thought goes this way, and I nonchalantly go with it. It takes another set of tracks, and I change lanes as well. But what if I were to step back and recognize what’s going on? What if I were to take it another step and jump off this thought train altogether? 

Now, we can never leave ourselves; but suppose I were to intentionally start to imagine or be aware of my hand and my ability to move my fingers. This is no longer thinking but willing and imagining. In doing so, my mind loses its control over me. This is not in an effort to undermine our mental abilities but to show that I can have an effect on which faculty of my humanity I choose to dwell in. 

We also do not want to compartmentalize ourselves. Our different faculties do not have strict dividing lines. And, most of the time, our conscious I is probably dwelling in more places than one. We also want to respect different trauma that the human person might have experienced, which can make certain faculties more domineering. But what this exercise does demonstrate is that where I am is both important and controllable to varying degrees.

Now, back to the subject matter at hand: gratitude. Following the lines that gratitude is an exercise of my heart and not my head, when I am intentionally thankful, I am also intentionally not thinking. The result of this at night is that my mind is able to rest and I am able to sleep. Could this also explain the benefits of intentional gratitude during the day? Again, I think so. 

It’s no secret that intentionally taking time to be grateful positively affects our outlook on life. If done repeatedly, it also becomes my standard perspective, and I develop a positive attitude. The overall benefits of this speak for themselves. But what is philosophically going on here? It’s no secret that intentionally taking time to be grateful positively affects our outlook on life.Tweet This

Philosophy, and phenomenology in particular, tries its best to put terminology to what we are experiencing in life. Though this is helpful, it is never all encompassing. However, when I put words to my experiences, I become better equipped to work within myself. 

This being said, the experience of my heart is one of integration. In Latin the word for heart is cor. It is the core or center of the human person. Here is where I become integrated with the rest of my being. From the perspective of the heart, I can think well, imagine creatively, coordinate effectively with the workings of my body, among other features in life.

Beyond that, the heart is where my experience of time integrates into the one present moment. Here I am aware of future possibilities and I can properly process past events. In this sense, we can even conclude that in my heart I touch eternity, which is the fullness of time.

Christian philosophy has also referred to the heart as the place where God’s voice resounds. St. Paul says that “God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Galatians 4:6). The heart is not only where we encounter the notion of God in general, but the Trinitarian God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

This is why the heart of the human person is a refuge from the world. When we encounter God in our heart, we encounter authentic security. This is not an escape from reality. Rather, it is an encounter with it. God is not a being. He is being itself. And not only in the heart do we encounter God as being, but God as Father. 

Here is where we find the peace that the human person so ardently desires. God is great, but experiencing the Fatherhood of God is even better. All roads lead to this reality. Jesus Himself says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me” (John 14:6). It is also through the Holy Spirit dwelling in us that we can cry out Abba! Father! In our heart, God reveals Himself to us not just as the Creator and Sustainer of life, but as Dad. 

This is the beauty of living life from the heart. Here, God moves from an idea to a providential Father; one who not only takes care of my needs but also loves me as His son. This is not only a refuge from the world but a taste of Heaven. The heart is home.

If this is true, which Christian philosophy and theology would affirm, then it is worth thanking God for. There is nothing we have done or can do to deserve this relationship. It all stems from God’s grace, which is free. All we can do is receive the gift and thank God for it. 

Gratitude is the gateway to intentionally dwelling in our heart. When I am thankful, my conscious I is forced into my heart, where I personally encounter God. From this standpoint of true stability, we can then face the passing world we live in with love, joy, peace, patience…and all the other fruits of the Holy Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23).

This is philosophically important so that I don’t just bounce around my mind all day and night like a raft on the sea. No, I take charge of myself. I intentionally choose which faculty I am dwelling in and utilize it to the best of my ability. The goodness of gratitude is that it gets me out of my head and into my heart—where I encounter God as my providential Father. 

Thanksgiving not only helps us sleep at night; it also helps us live during the day. Life from the heart is Heaven on earth. Here the Spirit of our Savior echoes in our depths, crying out, Daddy! Our response is simply, Thank you, Jesus.