The Foundation for Thanksgiving

One of the familiar names for the Lord’s Supper is eucharist; another is communion. All Christians recognize the communion aspect of the ordinance, which has been observed in the congregation of Jesus Christ since its beginning (see Acts 2:42). But we are often less conscious of its eucharistic aspect. The Greek word eucharisteia was in use among Christians earlier than the Latin communio, simply because there were Greek-speaking congregations first. Today it has become a technical expression, so that we hardly remember its original meaning, “giving of thanks.” (A verbal form of the same word, eucharidzō, is in common use in modern Greek to mean “thank you.”)

As Christians we understand that, being sinners, we can have communion with a righteous God only through the atoning work of Christ. Therefore in the observance of communion, as Paul says, we “proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor. 11:26). We also understand that true communion or brotherhood between human beings is ultimately possible only because Christ has won forgiveness for human sin, which alienates us from one another as well as from God. But it seems less self-evident that Christians should call a ceremony representing what Christ has done for them thanksgiving.

In theory, thankfulness to God, unlike communion with him, should come easily to man. Philosophers of many nations have taught that reverence and gratitude toward God should flow naturally from man’s reason. But often it does not work out that way: Paul writes of the people of his own day, “Although they knew God, they did not honor him as God nor give thanks to him” (Rom. 1:21).

Man knows he did not make himself, and he experiences bounty and generosity in the gifts that nature bestows on him. Nowhere is this truer than in North America, where nature’s own rich gifts have been exploited and multiplied by technology to produce an abundance never before known by man. Yet thankfulness to God is not a marked characteristic of our individual or corporate life.

It seems that impersonal benevolence, no matter how generous and how unmerited, does not automatically inspire gratitude in human breasts. Instead, we are quick to complain that others may have received more, or deserved it less. Our suspicious nature is anxious lest what is given today be taken away tomorrow.

With this as a background, we can understand why the proclaiming of the death of Christ is the foundation not only for communion but also for true and unfeigned thanksgiving. For even when one recognizes—as the pagans often did—that one owes a debt of gratitude to God or to “heaven,” how can one know how to pay it? It was an Old Testament prophet who asked, “Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil?” (Micah 6:7), but the same question must also have been in the minds of many a thoughtful pagan as he multiplied his sacrifices, never knowing what or how much the gods required, or whether indeed they could ever be satisfied by his destruction or non-utilization of what was presumably already theirs.

The thanksgiving that is acceptable in God’s sight—and therefore the only thanksgiving that is a meaningful expression of our gratitude to him—consists not in spectacular performances but in turning to him, accepting his gift of salvation, and offering ourselves to him. The Psalmist writes,

What shall I render to the LORD

for all his bounty to me?

I will lift up the cup of salvation

and call upon the name of the LORD,

I will pay my vows to the LORD,

in the presence of all his people [Ps. 116:12–14].

And so it is that Christ’s redemptive work is the foundation not only for communion but also for thanksgiving. Through the sacrifice of Christ, we can approach God with confidence that we will neither be destroyed nor exploited but accepted.

In a richly endowed nation such as ours, in a time of peace and apparently continuing prosperity, there is much for which even secular man ought to render grateful thanks to a higher power. But the human heart remains suspicious or greedy in the face of all generosity until it has itself been renewed by the grace of God. Thankfulness to the divinity is always appropriate, but no matter how profusely expressed, it remains no more than mere religious politeness unless it is exercised in its proper context—that of the atoning work of Christ. It is this accomplished work of redemption that enables us to approach God not ostentatiously, as a kind of religious lobby, but simply, as children to their Father.

Have something to add about this? See something we missed? Share your feedback here.