Your soul leaps with the joy of the Lord, and that is a precious thing, for gratitude is the very breath of the Christian. Yet let this elation not carry you away from the sober path. The monks in the desert, after their meager supper, sing their thanks to God not with bouncing glee but with a sacred hymn that asks Him to fill their hearts with joy and gladness so that they may abound in every good work. Their thanksgiving flows not into a momentary thrill but into a quiet, steady flame of service.
Let your own gratitude do the same. Take care that your joy does not become a parade before men. The Pharisee gave thanks too, but he did it loudly and with contempt for others, and the devil snatched his treasure away. True thanksgiving confesses one’s own unworthiness; it is done in humility, content with God alone as its witness.
So, yes, rejoice, but let your hallelujah be the beginning of a deeper thing. Bear whatever small afflictions you meet with that same thanksgiving, for this present life is a time of mourning and fasting, and its joys are always mixed with grief. The pure, undeceiving joy awaits us in heaven. In the meantime, let your gratitude serve God with reverence and godly fear, remembering that our God is a consuming fire.
Offer Him your thanks not as a fleeting shout, but as a life laid down.