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Romans 1:21 “For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened.”

Think

Most people don’t wake up one day and decide to reject God outright. It’s usually slower than that. Subtler. Like drifting in a boat that was never anchored. One small current at a time. Until you look up, and you don’t recognize the shoreline anymore.

Paul tells us where that drift begins: not with hatred toward God, but with forgetfulness. “Although they knew God…” That’s the haunting part. They had awareness. They saw the signs. They may have even been stirred by awe. But they didn’t glorify him. And they didn’t give thanks. Glory and gratitude. Two things that seem small—until they go missing. Then everything else starts to unravel.

To glorify God means to give him weight, value, and honor. It means acknowledging that he’s the center, not you. That he’s the giver, not you. That your life isn’t yours to own, but his to shape. And to give thanks? That’s simply responding to who he is with humility and joy. It’s saying, “I didn’t earn this breath. I didn’t secure this job. I didn’t orchestrate the sunrise. But you did. And I’m grateful.” When either of those two things go—glory or gratitude—your spiritual sight begins to blur.

It’s like having the right prescription but choosing not to wear your glasses. You can still function, but everything’s distorted. You start mistaking shadows for truth. You run in the wrong direction, not because you want to rebel, but because you can’t see clearly anymore.

Paul says that when people stopped giving glory and thanks, their thinking became futile. That word means “empty, hollow, chasing what never satisfies.” It’s the spiritual equivalent of eating cotton candy for dinner—it’s sweet for a second, but leaves you sick and starving. Without glory and gratitude, your thoughts lose direction. Your heart loses light.

Here’s how it often plays out: You stop giving God credit for the good in your life. The job? You worked hard. The relationship? You finally found the right person. The breakthrough? Right place, right time. Slowly, you begin to believe the lie that you’re self-made. That you’re in control. That you’ve outgrown your need for a Provider because you’ve become one.

But something starts to shift. Your peace grows thinner. Your heart feels heavier. Your joy becomes more dependent on circumstances. The more you focus on yourself, the more your soul gets confused.

Gratitude is what keeps your soul open. Glory is what keeps your heart aligned. Without them, darkness creeps in—not always in obvious ways, but in quiet ones. Cynicism. Entitlement. Numbness. You may still go through the motions of faith, but the connection is gone. The light has dimmed.

It’s like a phone screen gradually lowering brightness until it’s hard to see anything at all. That’s what a darkened heart feels like. You don’t always notice it in the moment. But over time, what used to stir you barely moves you. What used to bring clarity now feels cloudy. And it all starts when we stop giving thanks.

Gratitude doesn’t seem powerful, but it is. It rewires how you see. It reminds your soul that you are held, not just capable. That you are dependent, not self-sustaining. That you are chosen, not entitled. And when you live in that posture, your heart stays soft. Open. Aligned.

Glorifying God is how you fight the lie that your story belongs to you. Thanking him is how you stay anchored when life gets loud. The enemy doesn’t have to get you to renounce your faith. He just has to get you to ignore your Source. Because once the glory fades and the gratitude dries up, your soul becomes fertile ground for confusion.

But the good news? You can always reset. You don’t have to feel grateful to start giving thanks. You don’t have to feel inspired to glorify God. Sometimes you just speak it—and your heart catches up.

Try this: instead of asking God for something today, spend five minutes listing what he’s already done. Instead of focusing on the pain, thank him for his presence in it. Instead of measuring how far you have to go, worship him for how far he’s already brought you. Gratitude brings light. Glory brings focus. And when those are present, darkness loses its grip.

Apply

Write down five things today that you didn’t earn but have received. Big or small. Don’t just think them—speak them. Say, “God, I see your hand in this.” Then pause and give him glory: “This is from you, and for you.” Gratitude will shift your thinking. Glory will steady your heart.

Pray

God, I don’t want to live like I’m self-made. You’ve given me breath, hope, provision, and grace I didn’t deserve. Forgive me for the moments I’ve ignored you, taken credit, or gone silent in my thanks. Teach me to glorify you—not just when life is easy, but in every moment. Fill my heart with light again. In Jesus’ name. Amen.