The essence of sin is misguided gratitude, not ingratitude. As dependent creatures we all, by nature, thank somebody or something (usually ourselves!) for what we experience and achieve. And the ultimate object of our gratitude becomes the object of our worship. In turn, the object of our gratitude becomes the object of our service, since we inevitably serve whatever or whomever we think will meet our needs (see Matthew 6:24). This is why, in Romans 1:25, worship and service are linked together: the object of our worship always becomes the master of our behavior. This is a law of human nature, inasmuch as God made us to worship and live for him. The sin of idolatry, whether in the age-old worship of nature or in the modern worship of ourselves, is consequently the same: worshiping and serving the creature rather than the Creator (see Romans 1:25).

Idolatry, whether ancient or modern, is thus the futile attempt to look for our lives to anyone or anything other than the one true Creator and Provider. Whom do I thank when things go well? To whom do I look when things go badly? What is my source of security? Where do I gain my sense of worth in the world? What am I striving to achieve in life, and why? The answers to questions like these will help determine whether we are honoring God as God or whether we are idolaters—whether that means we are praying to a stone image as in the prophet Isaiah's day, drooling with envy over the car in our neighbor's driveway, or latching onto the latest self-help strategy.

The great missionary explorer, David Livingstone, served in Africa from 1840 until his death in 1873. Pastors Robert Lewis and Wayne Cordeiro tell of an incident from Livingstone's life that illustrates why we need to be thankful in all things.

David Livingstone was eager to travel into the uncharted lands of Central Africa to preach the gospel. On one occasion, the famous nineteenth-century missionary and explorer arrived at the edge of a large territory that was ruled by a tribal chieftain. According to tradition, the chief would come out to meet him there; Livingstone could go forward only after an exchange was made. The chief would choose any item of Livingstone's personal property that caught his fancy and keep it for himself, while giving the missionary something of his own in return.

Livingstone had few possessions with him, but at their encounter he obediently spread them all out on the ground—his clothes, his books, his watch, and even the goat that provided him with milk (since chronic stomach problems kept him from drinking the local water). To his dismay, the chief took this goat. In return, the chief gave him a carved stick, shaped like a walking stick.

Livingstone was most disappointed. He began to gripe to God about what he viewed as a stupid walking cane. What could it do for him compared to the goat that kept him well? Then one of the local men explained, "That's not a walking cane. It's the king's very own scepter, and with it you will find entrance to every village in our country. The king has honored you greatly."

The man was right. God opened Central Africa to Livingstone, and as successive evangelists followed him wave after wave of conversions occurred.

Sometimes, in our disappointment over what we don't have, we fail to appreciate the significance of what God has given us.