Heart-Deep Thanksgiving

Psalm 136:1 reads, “O give thanks to the Lord for he is good, and his steadfast love endures forever.” Sounds simple enough, but is it as simple as it sounds.

You ever seen the movie Shenandoah? Jimmy Stewart plays the lead—the head of a farm family torn by the tensions of the Civil War, a war creeping ever closer to their farm. It’s a fine film. And one of my favorite scenes is Jimmy Stewart’s blessing over a family meal. Gathered round the table the family bows to pray and Jimmy Stewart gives thanks … sort of:

"Lord, we cleared this land, we plowed it, sowed it, and harvested. We cooked the harvest. It wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be eatin' it if we hadn't done it all ourselves. We worked dog-bone hard for every crumb and morsel, but we thank you just the same anyway, Lord, for this food we're about to eat. Amen."

Huh? You’ve got to work pretty hard to find the thanksgiving in that prayer. Sometimes you have to work hard to find the thanksgiving in our prayers too. There’s a part of us that has a hard time saying thank you to God and really mean it. There’s “Thank you, God … but why didn’t I get more?” There’s “Thank you, God … but why didn’t I get something better?” And there’s “Thank you, God, but what took you so long?” See what I mean? Our thanks to God—and even others—is not always heart-deep.

Perhaps we could learn something about giving thanks from the Japanese. In an article entitled “The Parent of All Virtues,” Mollie Hemmingway writes, “The Japanese sometimes accept gifts by saying, ‘I’m sorry.’ The subtext is, ‘I’m fully aware of my debt to you. I can never repay it.’” Wow. That’s gratitude—a deep awareness of debt, a realization that payback is neither necessary nor possible.

Are we not all debtors to God and his grace? How do we pay back salvation? We can’t climb up on the cross ourselves. How do we pay back that grace that is sufficient for every need, that strength made perfect in your weakness, that peace that passes understanding when everything around you says, “Panic!” We can’t pay it back. Such mercies are pure gifts of God given freely out of the vast storehouse of his abiding love for you and me. I know it’s hard to believe. I know it sounds almost too good to be true. But the Bible bears it out. All you can do—all any of us can do—is just say, “Thank you.” Giving thanks without equivocation, without reservation, without qualification, is really the only way to give thanks to God.

So in this season of Thanksgiving, count your blessings, and give God thanks—heart-deep thanks—for the many blessings you can’t earn, don’t deserve, and could never repay. You don’t need to do somersaults and cartwheels. You don’t need to recite God a poem or sing him a song. A “thank you” is really all God’s looking for—a thank you from the heart.

A Friend Named Thanksgiving

In 1 Thessalonians 5:18, Paul writes, “Give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” You got to figure Paul must have been a good mood when he wrote that verse. You got to figure Paul’s circumstances must have been good ones. But if we do that, our figuring is wrong. Paul certainly had his share of good times, but for the most part, life was hard for Paul. Most of his adult life spent on the road, often sleeping in the elements. He was beaten like a rug, pelted with stones and left for dead, shipwrecked in the dead of winter, jailed for long periods of time for nothing more than proclaiming the gospel, and stricken with this mysterious “thorn in the flesh” that God wouldn’t not remove. Paul had his good times, but he spent much of life in the worst of circumstances. Yet he was thankful—thankful when times were good, thankful when times were hard, thankful in all circumstances. And not because he was some extra strong Christian, but because giving thanks in all circumstances is God’s will for His people in Christ Jesus. That’s the same Christ Jesus who endured painful persecution and angry scorn, the same Christ Jesus who was nailed up on a cross—a cross He endured because He knew that death wouldn’t get the last word on Him; life would get the last word. Crucifixion wouldn’t be His swan song; resurrection just a couple of mornings away would be the new song He would sing for eternity. Knowing these things helped Paul and can help us give thanks in all circumstances.

It was like Thanksgiving was a friend to Paul—a friend Paul took along everywhere he went and into every situation he encountered. Years ago, Fred Craddock helped me see that Doxology can be a friend. Well, Thanksgiving can be a friend as well. And I live life on higher plane when I take my friend Thanksgiving along.

And Paul is not the only person who has modeled this for me. Teresa Walters did too. I knew her for many years. And I’ll never forget when I got word that she had died. I was at my son’s basketball game when the call came to meet the Walters family at the hospital. That death was hard to take on many levels. At her death, Teresa was only 25 years old. One of “Jerry’s kids,” she had been stricken with muscular dystrophy from earliest childhood. She had never known what it was like to run through the grass, to catch a ball, to drive a car. All she could drive was her little motorized wheelchair. And she drove it everywhere. It was a nifty little wheelchair: oxygen tank-ready and a bumper sticker on the back that said, "A woman's place is in the mall." And did I tell you it was a two-seater? One for her and one for Thanksgiving.

In spite of her problems, Teresa took Thanksgiving almost everywhere. Now and then God gives us opportunity to know someone whose courage and grace in the midst of adversity just lifts us up. She was one of those persons—an incredible young woman in many ways. But the older she got, the more tightly her terrible disease held her in its grip. And no matter how much she or her parents or the church or the doctors tried to pry its fingers loose, muscular dystrophy would not let go. Teresa got to the point where she had to be on oxygen all the time. She couldn't eat the things you and I could eat. She was literally skin and bones. So weak was Teresa that she had to be belted into her wheelchair or she would slide right out. She was as bad as I had ever seen her. She had bounced back before—this determined little fighter—but this time her disease squeezed her so hard that she died.

Thanksgiving had come along with me to my son's basketball game, and he said he wanted to go with me to the hospital too. "All right," I said (my heart not in it), "you can come along but I want you to sit in the backseat and keep your mouth shut." When we got to the hospital, we both started to get out of the car. "Where do you think you're going?" I said to Thanksgiving.

He replied, "I'm going with you. You may need me in there. Teresa was my friend too."

"Forget it!" I said. "You're the last person anybody wants to see right now. Just wait in the car." Obviously hurt, but equally submissive, Thanksgiving (who will only go where he's invited) climbed back in the car and shut the door.

I went up to the room and found Teresa's parents there. They were surrounded by family and friends in that hospital hallway. The three of us, however, went in alone to the room where Teresa's body lay dead upon the bed. Her flaming red locks spread out across her pillow. We cried and we prayed the 23rd Psalm. It was all very sad. We stood there for the longest time in silence. Then her parents started talking. They told me that late in the afternoon, when Teresa was struggling the most, they prayed and asked God to take her home to heaven. All these 25 years they could never pray that prayer, all the previous times death had knocked at Teresa’s door they couldn’t pray that prayer, but today they found the strength and peace to do it. And now, even though they were sad, they were thanking God for His mercy.

And then they told me about the last picture Teresa had painted. In spite of her problems, Teresa was an accomplished painter. I don't know how she did it, but she did it, and she did it well enough to win awards at art fairs. And, as her parents told the story, the last picture she painted (though hard to see the detail, that's it at the top of this blog) was based on Isaiah 40:31. You remember that verse, don't you? "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." In the painting, Teresa had drawn a skyline of the heavenly city encased in lush trees at the end of a long winding path. Above the city was a soaring eagle. And right there at the end of the path that led to the city, she painted something else—a tiny, empty wheelchair. She titled the painting Freedom Awaits. Teresa knew she was dying. She knew it wouldn't be long. She didn't want to die, but she was ready.

About that time, there was a quiet tap at the door. It was Thanksgiving. He came in and said, "I thought maybe y’all might need me about now." We did. And as strange as it may sound, Thanksgiving comforted us and made that experience a little easier to take.

But that’s what Thanksgiving does for every experience. Thanksgiving helps maximizes the joy of our blessings and helps lessen the heartbreak of our trials. Paul knew that. Teresa knew that. I want to know that too. How about you? So in this Thanksgiving season, let’s ask God to provide the Holy Spirit power we need to live this great thanksgiving verse in this season and all year long: “Give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Thank You Box

The picture that you see on the right is my Thank You Box. As I was putting on my jacket to head to the sanctuary for our second service on Sunday there was a knock at my study door. I opened it to find a group of 5th graders and their teacher standing there with smiles on their faces. That’s when they handed me the box. “This is a Thank You Box,” said Mrs. Stokes. “The kids put it together for you to say thank you for all you do.”

I didn’t have time to open it at that moment; I opened it a little later. And what should I find but little gifts of food, a bottle of water, some anti-bacterial hand cleanser, and several nice notes from the kids: “Thank you for teaching me the truth.” “Thank you for telling me about Jesus every Sunday.” “Thank you for being nice to me.” Good stuff. I’m eating some raisins from that box as I write this blog. They called it a Thank You Box.

What a great idea! And what an encouragement! All of us can use a little encouragement, can’t we? We get enough negative news, critical complaints, and cutting words in the course of a day. A little encouragement can go a long way. Most of us need a lot of it. Suppose in the course of a day you heard ten compliments and one criticism. Which will be on your mind when you lay your head on your pillow that night? It's safe to say we need more than a little encouragement; we need a lot. The word encouragement comes from the French word coeur; it means to put heart into someone. I suspect every single one of us has a few memories of those times someone put heart into us.

I remember Mrs. Dennis, my fifth-grade teacher, pulling me aside during a rough stretch in my life and telling me: “John, your life is going to count for something because you’ve got a good attitude.” That happened 43 years ago and I still remember it: encouragement.

I broke my wrist just before football season in my sophomore year of high school. I put a pad around the cast and played anyway. I still remember my coach saying to the team during halftime of a game in which we were getting whipped, “McCallum comes out here every day and plays with a broken wrist. If he’ll do that, you can pick up your effort too and get it done.” That was in 1971. Why do I still remember it? Because Coach Grant put some heart into me and the team with those words. Encouragement.

And then there was the time when I was very discouraged. I put on a good face and nobody was even aware of it. The secretary buzzed me to say Paul Land was calling. I knew Paul, but not well. He wasn’t a member of our church, just another Christian guy I knew. We hadn’t talked in a couple of years. I answered the phone and he told me, “John, I don’t know what’s going on, but when I was praying this morning the Lord told me to call John McCallum and let him know I was praying for him.” (My eyes well with tears as I type this story.) God knew I needed some encouragement and He put it on Paul’s heart to call me up and put some heart into me. It did. Encouragment.

And not long ago, I heard via email from a kid I had in my youth group back around the time the 70s were becoming the 80s. He told me he’d stumbled across a note I had written him way back then, thanking him for helping in a mission Vacation Bible School our youth group did for an impoverished church in the inner city of Kansas City. He went on to include the contents of that note in his email. He kept that brief, little note for three decades because it encouraged him back then. And you know what? Encouraged by that note, my friend Dwayne encouraged me.

Isn’t that just like God—sending the right word at the right time to put heart into us? I call those kinds of words “life words.” Death words wound, maim, and destroy. They stunt growth, they steal joy, they sap security. Life words encourage, strengthen, embolden, bless, and give hope and life to those to whom they are spoken. Of course, Jesus is the ultimate life word God has spoken to each of us: “I love you. I’ll save you. I’ll give you eternal life so that where I am there you may be also.” Life words from the Life Word himself.

I share these thoughts in the hope that you will take a few moments and reflect on those times God sent encouragement your way, and give thanks. And I share them for another reason too: that maybe today you’ll speak some life words into the life of someone who needs them. Don’t hold them back, speak them. Speak them to a spouse, a child, a parent, a friend. Speak them to a co-worker, a neighbor, a clerk at the bank, a cashier at the store, a waitress at your favorite restaurant. Speak them. Let them do their life-giving work. They won't do a bit of good locked up in your heart. So get them out of your heart and into the heart of someone who needs them. You can do this. You can put heart into someone today. You can encourage a person who needs it. Literally or verbally, pass along your own Thank You Box today.

And the encouragement you give away will come to rest on your head when you need it most. In his book 11, Leonard Sweet includes a parting blessing used by the Tzutujil Indians of Guatamala. I pass it along to you because it reminds me of my Thank You Box and wishes that same box for others: May God give you “long life, honey in the heart, no evil, and 13 thank yous.”

Count Your Many Blessers

One thing you can count on in many churches on the Sunday before Thanksgiving is that they'll be singing Count Your Blessings. You may know the hymn: "Count your blessings / name them one by one. / Count your blessings / see what God has done." It's a great hymn and a great reminder not to take our blessings for granted. Count them. Give thanks for them. Notice how you find God in them. It's a good hymn.

Could I propose another? How about this one: Count Your Blessers. When was the last time you did this? I'm going to do it right now.

• A mother and father—though divorced when I was in the third grade—who did the best they could under the circumstances.
• A grandmother who took my mother, my two brothers and me into her home when my mother left my dad. That woman took care of us. She also worked at the local high school. I still remember walking with her to school each morning and hanging out with her in the high school office until it was time to walk a little farther to the elementary school.
• A pastor and family, the Prices, who took us under their wings as we were traveling the rough road of divorce.
• A fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Dennis, who pulled me aside one day and told me she thought I was going to amount to something in the world because I had a good attitude. She spoke those words in 1966 and I've never forgotten them. Life words!
• A junior high football coach, Mr. Cogdill, who believed in me enough to let me quarterback our team.
• A few ministers who mentored me, fathered me, loved me, and gave me opportunities I could have never achieved on my own: Gary Fenton, Jack Enloe, Gilbert Spencer, Larry Baker, and Bob Meade.
• Great friends—too many to name—who have encouraged me and challenged me and made me a better person than I would have been without them.
• My wife Dayna who loves me unconditionally and who puts up with my cursed independent streak and my lifelong struggle of balancing my attention to the needs of the church with my attention her needs too.
• Churches that have loved me and endured me and shaped me into the pastor I have become and am still becoming today. They deserved better.
• And of course, the smiling face behind my many blessers: the face of God, Blesser in Chief, of my life and yours.

I could go on, but my granddaughter is hounding me to get off the computer so she can use it to do puzzles or something. So in this season of Thanksgiving, don't just count your blessings; count your many blessers too. And give thanks!