Lorenzo Palon

When Thanksgiving Becomes a Way of Walking

We live in an age that trains us to evaluate everything like consumers. We ask: Did this serve me? Did I enjoy it? Did it meet my needs? Was it worth my time? That habit doesn’t stay in malls and apps; it walks straight into the church. Even our spirituality can become a running audit of disappointments: I prayed—why didn’t God answer? I served—why didn’t they notice? I gave—why am I still struggling? I obeyed—why is life still hard? And slowly, without announcing itself, ingratitude becomes a default posture: not loud rebellion, just constant complaint dressed in “realism.”

Paul prays for a different kind of maturity in Colossians 1:9–14. He asks that believers be filled with God’s will “in all spiritual wisdom,” so that they may “walk worthy of the Lord,” bearing fruit, growing in knowledge, and strengthened for endurance and patience—and then he adds something that sounds almost too ordinary to belong in such a grand prayer: “giving thanks to the Father” (Col. 1:12). For Paul, thanksgiving isn’t a polite religious add-on. It is a thread running through the entire “worthy walk.” Gratitude is not what you do after you’ve become mature; it is one of the clearest signs that you are becoming mature.¹

That may surprise us, because we often define maturity as competence: knowing more Bible, having stronger convictions, and being more “serious.” Paul’s list is different. He includes endurance, patience, joy—virtues forged under pressure—and right there among them is thanksgiving. Why? Gratitude is one of the most reliable indicators of who you believe God is, what story you think you’re living in, and where you think your life is headed.

Gratitude Reveals What You Think God Has Done

Paul doesn’t command the Colossians to work themselves into a thankful mood. He locates thanksgiving in God’s action: “The Father… has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light” (Col. 1:12). That word “qualified” is quietly explosive. It means you did not qualify yourself. You weren’t admitted because you reached a spiritual standard, achieved an elite experience, or mastered the right religious techniques. You were made fit by God’s grace.²

In other words, thanksgiving begins where self-congratulation ends.

This matters because many believers secretly try to live as if they’re still on probation. They may say “grace,” but they live with the anxious mindset of earning: If I do enough, God will be pleased. If I fail, I’m out. That mindset produces either pride (when you think you’re doing well) or despair (when you know you’re not). But it rarely produces gratitude, because it keeps the spotlight on your performance.

Paul moves the spotlight: the Father is the one who qualifies, rescues, transfers, and redeems. That’s why thanksgiving belongs at the center. A thankful Christian is not someone who has fewer problems; it’s someone who has learned to interpret life through what God has already done in the Messiah.

Gratitude Is Resistance to the “Domain of Darkness”

Paul keeps going: “He rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son” (Col. 1:13). He’s not describing a minor improvement in one’s spirituality. He’s describing a change of realm—a relocation of belonging and identity.³ And that has everything to do with gratitude.

The “domain of darkness” is not only about personal sin; it is also the larger atmosphere in which human life is shaped by fear, accusation, rivalry, and despair. Darkness constantly whispers: You are what you lack. You are what they did to you. You are what you fear. You are what you can control. It trains people to live clenched—clenched fists, clenched jaws, clenched hearts.

Thanksgiving is one of the most practical ways Christians refuse that training. Gratitude is not denial of suffering. It is a refusal to let suffering become your only story. It is a kind of spiritual defiance: Darkness does not get to define reality, because the Father has already acted. We have been rescued. We have been transferred.

When the world is chaotic—wars, threats, economic strain, family tensions—Thanksgiving does not pretend these things aren’t real. It simply refuses to grant them ultimate authority. It says, “The headlines can inform me, but they will not form me.” In a frightened world, gratitude is a proclamation of allegiance: Jesus is Lord; fear is not.

Gratitude Keeps Knowledge from Becoming Arrogance

Earlier in the prayer Paul asks for “knowledge… wisdom… understanding” (Col. 1:9). Knowledge is good—Paul prays for it! But knowledge is also dangerous when it becomes a badge rather than a path. It can inflate the ego and shrink the heart. It can turn Christians into correct people who are difficult to love.

Thanksgiving is one of God’s chief antidotes to spiritual pride. Why? Because gratitude reminds you that everything you have is received, not achieved. Even your best obedience is not a trophy you earned; it is fruit God grew. Even your discernment is not proof of superiority; it is mercy at work in you.⁴

This is why communities that lose gratitude usually become harsh. When gratitude disappears, the church often becomes a courtroom. People become prosecutors rather than siblings. The conversation turns into an accusation. Differences become threats. But when Thanksgiving returns, the church becomes more like a family again—truthful, yes, but also patient, resilient, and slow to condemn.

Gratitude Makes Endurance Human

Paul prays that believers be strengthened for “endurance and patience with joy” (Col. 1:11). Endurance without gratitude easily becomes grim stoicism. You keep going, but you become hard. You survive, but you stop singing. You remain faithful, but you quietly grow cynical.

Thanksgiving keeps endurance from becoming brittle. It does this by reconnecting hardship to hope. Gratitude says, I can name what is painful and still confess what is true: I am not abandoned. I am not trapped. I am not alone. I belong to the Son’s kingdom.” That is why gratitude can coexist with lament.⁵

This is especially vital in war-torn or conflict-heavy times. Fear narrows the heart; gratitude enlarges it. Fear dehumanizes; gratitude rehumanizes. Fear trains us to blame; gratitude trains us to serve. Gratitude doesn’t make you naïve; it makes you steady.

Gratitude Is the Shape of a Worthy Walk

Paul’s “worthy walk” (Col. 1:10) is not a spiritual performance meant to impress God. It is a life that fits the Lord you belong to. If God has rescued and transferred and forgiven, then the fitting response is not endless anxiety; it is thanksgiving lived out in practice.

And this is where gratitude becomes intensely ethical and communal. A thankful person is more likely to be generous because they don’t live as if scarcity is ultimate. A thankful person is more likely to forgive, because they remember their own forgiveness (Col. 1:14). A thankful person is more likely to persevere in doing good, because they are not fueled only by outcomes but by worship.

Thanksgiving, then, is not merely something Christians say. It is a way of inhabiting the world. It is a discipline of attention: noticing grace, naming mercy, remembering rescue, and living as citizens of light. Gratitude is maturity because it is truthfulness—truthfulness about who God is and what God has done.⁶

So if you want a simple measure of spiritual growth, don’t start by asking how much you know, or how intense your experiences are, or how “strong” you seem. Ask this: Is thanksgiving becoming more natural in me? Not as forced positivity, but as deepened allegiance. Because when the gospel is truly taking root, gratitude doesn’t remain a moment—it becomes a walk.⁷

Spiritual maturity is not measured by how impressive your knowledge sounds, but by how steadily thanksgiving runs through your life—even when the world is shaking.

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Footnotes

1. P. T. O’Brien, “Thanksgiving and the Gospel in Paul,” New Testament Studies 21 (1974): 144–155
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2. Douglas J. Moo, The Letters to the Colossians and to Philemon, 2nd ed., Pillar New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2024).
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3. James D. G. Dunn, The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon, New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996).
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4. John M. G. Barclay, Paul and the Gift (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2015).
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5. Scot McKnight, The Letter to the Colossians, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2018). ↩︎
6. James D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998). ↩︎
7. N. T. Wright, After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters (New York: HarperOne, 2010). ↩︎