Mike Huber brought this message to the meeting on 24 November 1996. Please email us your comments and questions!

Scripture Reading:
1 Thessalonians 5:12-17

Kingdom of Bellicosia

Message Files / Archive / WHF

Unfortunately, the people of Bellicosia were not happy. They grumbled about the weather. They grumbled about the price of horseradish. They grumbled about their neighbor’s hedge being not quite perfectly trimmed. They grumbled about the streets being not quite spotless.

For one reason or another, the people of Bellicosia lived their lives in a perpetual state of disappointment. They walked the earth like Goldilocks in the dwelling place of Bears — everything was too hot or too cold. Everything was too soft or too hard. Only, to the Bellicosians, Baby Bear was nowhere to be found. For them, nothing was just right. Nothing.

At the end of dinner, it was a Bellicosian custom to push the dishes aside and say, “The roast was a little tough tonight.” Even if no roast had been served, it was still customary to complain about it.

The appropriate response was to sigh and say, “You just can’t get good meat these days.” Again, it didn’t matter if the people having this conversation were vegetarians. It’s the sentiment that counts. And in Bellicosia, the sentiment was always one of resigned disappointment.

People would recommend restaurants to their friends by saying, “The atmosphere is a bit frumpy, but at least the food won’t kill you.” People would recommend a movie by saying, “It wasn’t as bad as I expected.” They endorsed politicians by saying, “She isn’t as bad as the other guy.”

In fact, the people of Bellicosia got married when both the bride and the groom agreed, “I could do worse than you.” At the wedding, a minister would say, “Of course, all the good ones are taken. But could you do worse?” After agreeing that they could, indeed, do worse, the couple would be pronounced husband and wife.

* * *

These days, the people of Bellicosia were especially likely to complain about GATT and the G7 and other acronyms of world trade. They were even likely to complain about the end of the Cold War. Back in the old days, they had enjoyed a booming economy.

You see, for years, the Bellicosians had founded their economy on manufacturing. Although they were extremely morose, no one could deny that they were also terribly precise. And so they were called upon to manufacture aircraft parts and scientific equipment and other various and sundry products along those lines. Especially during the height of the Cold War, they could count on juicy contracts from McDonnell-Douglass, Lockheed and Boeing.

But, these days, whatever business was left was likely to go to Korea or China or Mexico. And so the Bellicosians were faced with a financial crisis.

* * *

Ironically, Bellicosia itself was a beautiful, little country. It was located high up in the mountains. It would have been a perfect spot for winter recreation. The Bellicosians had even built a very picturesque ski resort above their capitol city.

Although few of the natives truly took to the slopes, many of the Bellicosians liked to sit around the fireplace and say things like, “The snow is too wet today;” or “Personally, there are too many snowboarders on the slopes to suit me.”

In the summer, the mountains were resplendent with alpine meadows and breathtaking water falls. In short, the Kingdom of Bellicosia should have been a popular destination for those who loved the outdoors. It should have enjoyed significant revenues from the tourist industry. But hardly anyone actually came to the Kingdom. Although the scenery was beautiful, the people were simply too dismal to be tolerated.

* * *

And that is why His Majesty, Orville the Disheartened, King of Bellicosia, decided to hire a group of consultants. He hired social scientists and philosophers, wise spiritual leaders and perky activity directors. He gathered them all together in his throne room.

“I don’t know why I’m trying this,” he said. “Nothing ever works out for me — no matter how hard I try. But I need you people to figure out a way to cheer us all up. I want the people of Bellicosia to gain an international reputation for hospitality and good cheer. I want our pathetic, intolerable little kingdom to become the fun capitol of the world”

By Bellicosian standards, the Daily Press gave the King’s effort a ringing endorsement. In a prominent editorial, they wrote, “This unparalleled act of desperation is not necessarily doomed to failure.”

* * *

The King’s Commission worked feverishly. One study group suggested a giant, kingdom wide barbeque. Another group suggested everyone be required to watch Barney, that loveable purple dinosaur. Still another group suggested roasting Barney at the kingdom-wide barbeque.

Some suggested that all the citizens should be required to wear ticklish clothing or consume mind altering drugs. Others suggested that everyone should smoke tobacco and sing psalms. Although there were a million ideas, nothing seemed right.

* * *

And then, one day, a consultant came to King Orville the Disheartened and asked him a very simple question. She asked, “For what are you thankful, Your Majesty?”

“Thankful?” echoed the King. “Thankful? What on earth should I be thankful for? The economy is in the toilet. I’ve just spent half the treasury on a fruitless effort to save my people. I can’t find a decent cup of coffee in this entire town and they just raised the price of admission down at the movie theater.”

The consultant continued, “But surely you feel grateful about something. Your country is at peace. People still have enough to eat. There are beautiful mountains all around us. Isn’t there something that makes you feel thankful just to be alive?”

To the King, this was a deeply profound question. The very existence of such a question threatened to undermine his entire view of reality. Could someone really be thankful, just for life? After a long pause, the King spoke. “There are times,” he said in a whisper — almost as if he were speaking of conspiracy, “there are times when I watch my children. The sight of them playing and the sound of their little voices fills me with the strangest feeling. I feel like laughing and crying all at the same time. I feel proud and humble, both together.

“I can’t help but think to myself, ‘You know, life isn’t so terrible.’”

The consultant nodded and said, “At least its a start. Go home and look for that feeling wherever you can. Look for it in your favorite books, out your favorite windows and in the eyes of your favorite people.”

The King agreed to give it a try. And when he did, it was like opening his eyes for the first time. As he looked at the architecture of the palace, he found himself thinking, “This room is really quite lovely. And that staircase there is beautiful! What a marvelous place to live. Why, I’m thankful to live here.”

For the King, it was like opening up a floodgate. “I’m thankful for music. I’m thankful for the smell of bread. I’m thankful for the way our snow-covered mountains catch the color of the sinking sun — pink and orange and fuschia. ” Gratitude poured out of him like water down one of his kingdom’s many waterfalls. “I’m thankful for the taste of honey. I’m thankful for the warmth of the fire.”

And as the King saw people, he thought, “I’m thankful for you. I’m thankful for you, too. And I’m thankful for you. Why, I’m even thankful for you, you grumpy, old fussbudget!”

The more thankful he felt, the happier he felt. He actually started to laugh out loud! He started racing around the palace. He ran up to his bedroom and dove onto the bed, shouting, “I love this bed!” He touched a spot of carpet, out in the hallway, and shouted, “I love that color!” He ran into the kitchen and snatched a piece of fruit from the pantry, “Oh my!” he exclaimed, “Is that a tangerine? I love tangerines!”

“Wahoo!” yelled the King, and he ran off to be thankful somewhere else.

“This is bad,” said one of the cooks. “The poor fool has lost his mind. Of course, for him there wasn’t much to lose in the first place. But still, this can’t be good news.”

* * *

To the King, this transformation was wonderful news. Now all that was needed was to duplicate his experience in all of his subjects. And so, the very next day, he sent out a royal edict that all Bellicosians were to spend at least an hour reflecting on what made them thankful.

Unfortunately, most people in the kingdom came up with a list that went something like this: “I’m thankful I didn’t have to do this stupid exercise yesterday. I’m thankful that kings eventually die and they are replaced by other kings. I’m thankful that my breakfast this morning wasn’t really made out of sawdust, even though that’s how it tasted. I’m thankful that I’m not being eaten by a pack of wolves — no wait, I guess I would rather be eaten by a pack of wolves than do this rubbish anymore.”

When practiced out of compulsion, the exercise did nothing. People twisted it into one more excuse to vent their habitual disappointment.

* * *

Desperately, the King went to search among his consultants for the one who had changed his life. When he found her, he asked her what he should do.

She said, “Unfortunately, you can’t make people thankful. Sometimes, it is actually the people who have the least who are most grateful. It certainly is a mystery — and I don’t pretend to understand it fully.”

“So,” said the King, “are you saying there is nothing I can do?”

“No,” answered the consultant. “There is always something to do. In your case, I would suggest spreading gratitude like virus. Be as thankful as you can be — and in the presence of as many people as you muster. Let them see your gratitude and your joy and maybe they will long to be infected by the same Spirit that has come to infect you.

“Maybe, out of divine envy, they will open themselves to true thankfulness, and not just go through the motions.”

* * *

I really do think that thankfulness can be like a virus. I’ve experienced it that way.

I have met certain people who radiate such a joyful sense of celebration, that I find myself caught in the updraft of their faith. I find myself elevated in their presence. And I know that I want to be like them.

I want to see every moment as a miracle. I want to rejoice in everything. I want to give thanks for everything.

In his closing comments to the Thessalonians, Paul writes, “Be joyful always; pray continuously; give thanks in all circumstances.” I think it is no accident that these three go together. I think that a constant sense of gratitude is the foundation for a perpetual sense of joy. Gratitude is the foundation for joy. The more consistently we can be thankful, the more consistently we will be joyful.

And it is the presence of God that opens our eyes to all that we have to be thankful for. It is the presence of God that humbles us, prepares our hearts and reveals to us the wonder of everything that we habitually take for granted. The presence of God is like a spice that brings out all the wonderful flavors of the world around us.

And we, in turn, are called to bring the taste of this spice into the world around us. We are to be like salt. We are to be like leaven. We are to spread the virus.