What if we stopped complaining?
It’s a simple question. Maybe a bit naïve. Maybe even overdone as a sermon topic. But I’ll ask it anyway—what would change in our days, our relationships, and even our thoughts if we truly stopped complaining?
This post comes from something we tried during our Sunday school time at the nursing home the first Sunday of Lent. We discussed various Lenten practices, and how many people choose to give up little pleasures such as chocolate or social media for Lent. I suggested that perhaps instead of just giving up something, we could take up something. And based on 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18, I suggested that we give up complaining and take up rejoicing. (1 Thess. 5: 16–18 says, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”)
I then led the group in a practice session. I stated some common complaints that nursing home residents might have, and we practiced turning them into praise and thanksgiving. We began with the universal complaint: “This food is terrible.” They suggested that instead we could say things like, “Thank you, God, for the person who made this food,” or “Thank you, Lord, that I have food to eat,” or “At least I don’t have to cook and wash dishes anymore.”
Then we moved on to some other complaints, such as “The days are so long,” “No one comes to visit me,” and “I’m in so much pain.” And let’s be honest. These are valid feelings for folks who live in a nursing home. They are often true. So I was quick to assure them that we weren’t pretending those things aren’t real. We weren’t dismissing their feelings. God understands sorrow and frustration and pain. He understands loneliness and disappointment. Scripture is full of people who brought their sorrow honestly before God—not hiding it, but trusting Him with it. He wants us to bring those feelings to Him. And then leave them with Him. We start complaining when we hold on to them.
Philippians 2:14 says, “Do everything without grumbling or arguing.” That is not a suggestion. In grammar, we call that sentence an imperative. It’s a command or instruction. It’s also very clear. Not some things — everything. And that passage goes on. “Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation. Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life” (Phil. 2:14-16).
Our world is so warped and so crooked, that when we do everything without complaining or arguing and we grow in obedience and humility, we stand out so much that we shine like stars. And once I focused on being aware of how much I complain, I found that I’m not very star-like.
Then, a few days ago, I read a fascinating bit of science about our brains. “Because of neuroplasticity, the brain constantly rewires itself based on repeated thoughts and behaviors. The neural pathways you activate most often become stronger and easier to access over time.” (from the Facebook page Know Your Brain) So it turns out the more you complain, the more you complain! I mean, we sort of knew that all along, didn’t we? I’m sure you’ve noticed that before. But science confirms it.
And unlike other kinds of problems in our brains, neuroplasticity can be changed because the brain responds to repetition. “Studies on cognitive training and gratitude practices suggest that intentionally shifting attention toward solutions or appreciation can gradually strengthen alternative neural pathways. What you focus on consistently becomes the pattern your brain expects. And over time, that pattern shapes how you experience everyday life.”
If you resolved to spend 40 days of rejoicing instead of complaining, how different would your life be? It’s not that your circumstances would change, it would be you that would change. And that has a ripple effect. Like a fluffy white dandelion that spreads its seeds when blown, we can spread an attitude of complaining, or we can spread an attitude of rejoicing.
I’m going to suggest that you do exactly what we did in the nursing home—practice. I think it’s easier to rehearse when you’re not in the moment of a grumbling and complaining spirit. Take some common complaints and try flipping them around. Then start noticing your own complaints and practice reframing them. And don’t just stick to the “easy” ones like the weather or food or housework you don’t like. Try the hard ones—he difficult coworker, political frustrations, grocery prices, illness.
A few chapters later in Philippians, Paul says, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” (Phil. 4:12) He also tells us, not once but twice, to rejoice. “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Phil. 4:4)
Rejoicing cultivates contentment. The things we complain about are almost always things over which we have little or no control, so when we complain about them, all we are doing is fueling a spirit of discontent and bitterness. Rejoicing and contentment are the fruits of a heart that has been trained toward a posture of not being ruled by life’s circumstances. I think it’s so interesting that Paul chose to use the word secret— “I have learned the secret of being content.” Why is it a secret? Because it’s not obvious at first. It’s not how our hearts typically respond when life is hard. For most of us, when life is good, we are at peace. When life gets hard, we complain, worry, or unravel.
So let’s take up rejoicing. Let’s stop complaining. It takes a consistent and conscious effort, so get your family on board. Make a game out of it—see who can go the longest without complaining, or who can take the complaints that seem the most difficult to flip and turn them into rejoicing.
A small confession: This wasn’t the post I planned to write for Lent. I started out intending to make a case for the season itself—but every time I sat down, I kept coming back to this. It turns out this is what I needed.
And maybe you needed it too.
So even if it’s a little late in the season, maybe it’s not too late to begin.
