Praise the Lord for this new day,
filled with the promises of our Lord. He blessed us with an abundant weekend.
Our Saturday Thanksgiving Banquet was a blessing. He blessed us in His House
yesterday. We got some fresh snow this morning. It is beginning look a lot
like Christmas.
At times thankfulness is difficult for
most of us. As we get ready for Thanksgiving
celebrations I am thankful to the Lord for you all. In Jesus we are loved and
are connected for eternity. It is a blessing to live life in the communion of
saints. As it is written, "His divine power has given us every thing for life
and righteousness through the power of Him who saved us by His own glory and
goodness."
As I was growing up in Orissa
India, I recall praising the Lord during this time of the year as the harvest of
rice was drawing near. I recall walking on the banks of the rice fields that
were getting ready for harvest. The ripening rice fields looked golden. The
Sun beaming on the fields made them glisten. My heart was jubilant. The
farmers had planted the fields in the monsoon season, at times in tears, but as
the harvest approached I could see that the Lord had kept His promise. He
brought forth the harvest. The farmers go to the fields singing the songs of
harvest. When I talk to my family and friends in India now, they tell me that
the rice fields are getting ready for harvest. Indeed, the fields are dancing,
the meadows are decked with joy, and the hills are laughing. Praise the Lord
for His faithfulness and love. As I pause and ponder anew on the blessings of
the Lord and His Beauty all around us I am filled with a great sense of
gratitude to our Lord for all the good and perfect gifts that come to
us.
Years ago, A.J Cronin, an English
doctor-turned-writer, told of another doctor who often prescribed a cure for
grumblers. He called it his "Thank-you cure." For patients whose major ailment
was depression and frustration, the good doctor insisted that they say out loud,
"Thank you," whenever there was some moment of beauty or grace or love that
slipped over them. Not only that, but they were supposed to record in a
notebook each separate event. That was to go on for six to eight weeks. The
doctor reported a wonderful rate of cure. In most instances, the entire quality
of life for his patients had changed. One of the first signs of it was that
they began to pray again.
Back in Eilenberg, Germany, in
1637, the trinkets of life were all gone. Europe was at war. Eilenberg was
tossed back and fourth by armies from different powers. Three times during that
year it was attacked and severely damaged. When the armies left, the refugees
poured in by the thousands. Disease ran rampant. Food was scarce. There was
only one pastor in the entire city, a fellow named Martin Rinkard.
Rinkard's journal for 1637
indicates that he conducted over 4,500 funerals that year, sometimes as many as
40 to 50 in a day. Surely no thanksgiving celebrations could be held in life
like that. Death was constant, and each morning stank with disaster, but
Christians still sing the song that Pastor Rinkard wrote that year. They sing it
with gusto, and they sing it with faith. They sing it not because it catalogues
a list of reasons for thanksgiving, but because thankfulness is all that's
left. Even when the bottom drops out, my relationship with God goes beyond the
thankless and becomes the source of my faith.
"Now thank we all our God
With hearts and hands and voices.
Who wondrous things has done
In whom his world rejoices.
Who from our mother's arms
Has blessed us on our way
With countless gives of love
And still is ours today."
In Christ... All that we desire is
in Him,.
Brown
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