A Thanksgiving Meditation
It is easy to capture the mood of Thanksgiving, or Harvest Festival. The autumn sun is shining warmly in a blue November sky. The Michigan maples and birches and oaks are ablaze with color. The farms have yielded another excellent harvest. The “frost is on the punkin’ and the corn is in the shock.”
Compared with other ages, or other lands, the countryside around me and the city in the distance are signs of an economy of abundance: a surplus of food, a wealth of all that factories can make, an ample provision of services, a fascinating variety of opportunities. A country church spire reminds me of even greater blessings—the gift of God’s Son, the fellowship of his people, the Bible in my own language, the daily care of a loving Father. Then, the disturbing thought: Why should I be so blessed and others be left in want and ignorance? If favors material and spiritual could be scaled somehow, and the earth’s peoples rated against the scale, I should surely be in the top five per cent.
Privilege Obligates
The mood of wonder and reverie gave way to one of burden and obligation. If privilege obligates, and this the Gospel stoutly maintains, what a heavy obligation belongs to one with so many privileges! If “from those to whom much has been given shall much be required,” then how solemn must the Day of Accounting be! How difficult to manage all these divine investments and make them all produce a fair return!
Anyone who calls himself a Christian must share the task involved in knowing the Redeemer, the task of making him known. And anyone who lives in North America or in Western Europe must regard himself as high on the scale of materially-blessed peoples. A half hour’s reflection on the million refugees in Hong Kong, or the displaced persons still in Europe’s camps, or the Arab homeless rotting away in the tent villages of the Middle East, should “drive a point” through the caked soil of self-centeredness and tap the deep wells of humble gratitude for one’s own lot. Few among us have known the desperation and humiliation of haunting garbage cans for food. Our concerns are for the next increment of an already high living standard.
Is it not strange that Christian devotional literature should have more to say on how Christians should suffer poverty than on how they should use abundance? The New Testament seems to reverse this emphasis.
In times of unemployment, depression, and the poverty that so often accompanies life’s closing years, Christians are encouraged to be patient, stouthearted, trustful, prayerful, more concerned over the “glory which shall be revealed in us” than over “the sufferings of this present time.” But what are the particular Christian virtues to be practiced in times of abundance?
Paul has a word in his letter to the Philippians that speaks to this point: “I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound” (4:12). “I know how to abound.” Blessed Paul, would that we Christians who are bowed beneath the weight of divine favor might discover thy secret this Thanksgiving season!
A Proper Response
Knowing how to abound, like most other kinds of knowledge, takes some learning. Few come by the knack of it naturally. Abundance puts a greater strain on character and consecration than poverty does. The pitfalls of even modest wealth are many and subtle.
“I know how to abound,” claims Paul. “Very well, noble Paul, share with us this knowledge.” Part of his reply may be found in a word he includes in his Colossian letter. He describes there the walk of those who have “received Christ Jesus the Lord” as a progressive establishment in the faith, “abounding therein with thanksgiving” (2:7).
In other words, the proper Christian response to God for the gift of “abounding grace” is thanksgiving. And should not the same response arise for the “all things” God gives his children richly to enjoy?
What a consistent example Paul gives us of this counsel! His letters breathe a spirit of thanksgiving. In nearly every one he has a thanksgiving section in the opening paragraph. Out of his own experience he can write, “In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
But what is thanksgiving? It is more than a mood, more than a sentiment. It is deeper than reminiscence. Thanksgiving is essentially a relationship between persons. Christian thanksgiving is a vertical relationship between the believer and God. It belongs to the noble family called Prayer, and it is the twin brother of Praise. It recognizes that a blessing is a gift, and then it raises its attention from the gift to the Giver. Thanksgiving is therefore always response, for the Giver of every good and perfect gift always takes the initiative.
Sensible of who the Giver is, the thankful heart regards his gifts as mercy bestowed, not as payment owed. It allows that God might have withheld his gifts, and that even now he could withdraw them for reasons he considers wise. So the thankful heart sees a witness to be borne both in the receiving of God’s gifts and in the not receiving of them. It compares what heaven sends, not with the greater abundance of the wealthy, but with the need of the poor and with the just deserts of the receiver. In this way the thankful heart learns at the same time, and under the tutelage of either wealth or poverty, both lessons—how to be abased, and how to abound. This the Apostle Paul learned throughout his life as Christ’s disciple, from the Damascus road to the prison cell in Rome.
A Prime Relationship
Thanksgiving, however, is only part of the relationship between the believer and God. And it is likely to be just as strong—no more, no less—as the other parts of this relationship. Confession and forgiveness, worship and comfort, praise and blessing—these are other parts of the same relationship. The man who is seldom at church, who is a veritable stranger to his Bible, who is out of practice in prayer, will find it hard to execute a swift change in roles and to be truly thankful, Christianly thankful, once a year!
Sadly must we admit that our national holiday called Thanksgiving is often far removed from what Paul has in mind. The press and the radio admonish us to “be thankful.” But to whom? It is all so vague.
For many of our citizens this “being thankful” will amount to little more than thinking “Are we not lucky? Yes, come to think of it, we are indeed quite lucky.” There is nothing wrong with feasting, but the child of God feels he must first go to the house of God to pay his vows of thanksgiving and sing with might and main, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!” He feels impelled to recognize the Great Giver. Not to do so would be as rude as to attend a birthday celebration and neglect to congratulate the person in whose honor the celebration is held.
The Christian also knows that the ungrateful heart keeps bad company—smugness, discontent, a grasping spirit, a lack of compassion, selfishness, an absence of tenderness, an unawareness of the shortness of life and the length of eternity. But these loiterers are too familiar to need much of an introduction. From them the thankful heart turns away.
A Privileged Return
But we cannot leave the matter here. Truly, the man who “knows how to abound” as Paul did, abounds with thanksgiving. Yet is this all? If it is, the thanksgiving is counterfeit! The genuine variety accepts the obligation to share with others that which abundance brings. The vertical relationship asks to be expressed horizontally. The Christian does not just thank God he is not poor; he identifies himself with those who are poor and shares. After all, one cannot give God a sandwich, or a winter coat, except as we give them to our neighbor. Nor does God give a sandwich, or a winter coat, to our neighbor, except as he gives them through us. And who is our neighbor? Jesus answered that question once for all in the story of the Good Samaritan. To be a link in the divine process of providence and liberality—what an unspeakable privilege! Let this thought be the afterglow of Thanksgiving Day.
When you come to think of it, who is doing most of the caring for the poor in our world? Is it not the world-wide community of Christians? True, the Christians probably have more to give than some others, but not all who can give do give. It is highly suggestive that it is Christian compassion, expressed through churches, independent agencies, and even governments, which reaches out to care for Arab refugees when many of their own oil-rich fellow religionists withhold aid. Nor do we read much about Russian rubles being offered to these pitiable people.
The arm of Christian mercy is long and effective. Church World Service, CROP, Lutheran World Relief—the list could be greatly extended. The heart of Christ’s true Church is sound because it is generous. In view of Calvary, how could it be otherwise? Still, there is room for even closer imitation of Christ. For where is there giving like unto his giving?
If knowing “how to abound” includes “abounding in thanksgiving,” then it also includes “always abounding in the work of the Lord” (1 Cor. 15:58). And as we look round about our world on this Thanksgiving Day, 1958, we must agree that there is plenty of the Lord’s work to be done!
END
Harold N. Englund is Minister of Midland Reformed Church in Midland, Michigan. He is a native of California. He holds the B.A. degree from University of California, and is also a candidate for the Ph.D. degree from New College, Edinburgh.
