The Blessings that Remain<\/b><\/p>\n
There are loved ones who are missing From the fireside and the feast; There are faces that have vanished, There are voices that have ceased; But we know they passed forever From our mortal grief and pain, And we thank Thee, O our Father, For the blessings that remain.<\/p>\n
Thanksgiving, oh, thanksgiving That their love once blessed us here, That so long they walked beside us Sharing every smile and tear; For the joy the past has brought us But can never take away. For the sweet and gracious memories Growing dearer every day,<\/p>\n
For the faith that keeps us patient Looking at the things unseen, Knowing Spring shall follow Winter And the earth again be green, For the hope of that glad meeting Far from mortal grief and pain\u2014 We thank Thee, O our Father\u2014 For the blessings that remain.<\/p>\n
For the love that still is left us, For the friends who hold us dear, For the lives that yet may need us For their guidance and their cheer, For the work that waits our doing, For the help we can bestow, For the care that watches o\u2019er us Wheresoe\u2019er our steps may go,<\/p>\n
For the simple joys of living, For the sunshine and the breeze, For the beauty of the flowers And the laden orchard trees, For the night and for the starlight, For the rainbow and the rain\u2014 Thanksgiving, O our Father, For the blessings that remain.<\/p>\n
Annie Johnson Flint V. Raymond Edman, But God!, (Zondervan Publ. House, Grand Rapids; 1962), pp. 20-21<\/p>\n
The Story of Squanto<\/b><\/p>\n
Most of us know the story of the first Thanksgiving\u2014at least, we know the Pilgrim version. But how many of us know the Indian viewpoint?<\/p>\n
No, I\u2019m not talking about some revisionist, p.c. version of history. I\u2019m talking about the amazing story of the way God used an Indian named Squanto as a special instrument of His providence.<\/p>\n
Historical accounts of Squanto\u2019s life vary, but historians believe that around 1608\u2014more than a decade before the Pilgrims landed in the New World\u2014a group of English traders, led by a Captain Hunt, sailed to what is today Plymouth, Massachusetts. When the trusting Wampanoag Indians came out to trade, Hunt took them prisoner, transported them to Spain, and sold them into slavery.<\/p>\n
But God had an amazing plan for one of the captured Indians\u2014a boy named Squanto.<\/p>\n
Squanto was bought by a well-meaning Spanish monk, who treated him well and taught him the Christian faith. Squanto eventually made his way to England and worked in the stable of a man named John Slaney. Slaney sympathized with Squanto\u2019s desire to return home, and he promised to put the Indian on the first vessel bound for America.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t until 1619\u2014ten years after Squanto was first kidnapped\u2014that a ship was found. Finally, after a decade of exile and heartbreak, Squanto was on his way home.<\/p>\n
But when he arrived in Massachusetts, more heartbreak awaited him. An epidemic had wiped out Squanto\u2019s entire village.<\/p>\n
We can only imagine what must have gone through Squanto\u2019s mind. Why had God allowed him to return home, against all odds, only to find his loved ones dead?<\/p>\n
A year later, the answer came. A shipload of English families arrived and settled on the very land once occupied by Squanto\u2019s people. Squanto went to meet them, greeting the startled Pilgrims in English.<\/p>\n
According to the diary of Pilgrim Governor William Bradford, Squanto \u201cbecame a special instrument sent of God for [our] good . . . He showed [us] how to plant [our] corn, where to take fish and to procure other commodities . . . and was also [our] pilot to bring [us] to unknown places for [our] profit, and never left [us] till he died.\u201d<\/p>\n
When Squanto lay dying of a fever, Bradford wrote that their Indian friend \u201cdesir[ed] the Governor to pray for him, that he might go to the Englishmen\u2019s God in heaven.\u201d Squanto bequeathed his possessions to his English friends \u201cas remembrances of his love.\u201d<\/p>\n
Who but God could so miraculously weave together the lives of a lonely Indian and a struggling band of Englishmen? It\u2019s hard not to make comparisons with the biblical story of Joseph, who was also sold into slavery\u2014and whom God likewise used as a special instrument for good.<\/p>\n
Squanto\u2019s life story is remarkable, and we ought to make sure our children and grandchildren learn about it. While you\u2019re enjoying turkey and pumpkin pie tomorrow, share with your kids the Indian side of the Thanksgiving story.<\/p>\n
Tell them about Squanto, the \u201cspecial instrument sent of God\u201d\u2014who changed the course of American history.<\/p>\n
Charles Colson, BreakPoint Commentary, November 25, 1998, (c) 1998 Prison Fellowship Ministries<\/p>\n
Dispair on the Mayflower<\/b><\/p>\n
Just as the sun can be blotted out by an eclipse, so moods of pessimism and doubt can plunge us into spiritual darkness. At times our situation may seem so desperate that we think even God Almighty can\u2019t carry us through.<\/p>\n
That was the gloomy attitude of Robert Cushman, who recorded his despair on the Mayflower in 1620. He wrote, \u201cIf we ever make a plantation in New England, God works a miracle! Especially considering how scant we shall be of victuals [vittles], and (worst of all) ununited amongst ourselves. If I should write you of all the things that foretell our ruin, I should overcharge my weak head and grieve your tender heart. Only this I pray you. Prepare for evil tidings of us every day. I see not in reason how we can escape. Pray for us instantly.\u201d In spite of Cushman\u2019s fears, God brought the pilgrims to their destination and enabled them to establish a home in the wilderness.<\/p>\n
Our Daily Bread, Sept. 3, 1998<\/p>\n
Danger of Taking Your Blessings for Granted<\/b><\/p>\n
I have felt for a long time that one of the particular temptations of the maturing Christian is the danger of getting accustomed to his blessings. Like the world traveler who has been everywhere and seen everything, the maturing Christian is in danger of taking his blessings for granted and getting so accustomed to them that they fail to excite him as they once did.<\/p>\n
Emerson said that if the stars came out only once a year, everybody would stay up all night to behold them. We have seen the stars so often that we don\u2019t bother to look at them anymore. We have grown accustomed to our blessings.<\/p>\n
The Israelites in the wilderness got accustomed to their blessings, and God had to chasten the people (see Num. 11). God had fed the nation with heavenly manna each morning, and yet the people were getting tired of it. \u201cBut now our whole being is dried up,\u201d they said, \u201cthere is nothing at all except this manna before our eyes!\u201d (v. 6).<\/p>\n
Nothing but manna! They were experiencing a miracle of God\u2019s provision every morning; yet they were no longer excited about it. Nothing but manna!<\/p>\n
One of the evidences that we have grown accustomed to our blessings is this spirit of criticism and complaining. Instead of thanking God for what we have, we complain about it and tell him we wish we had something else. You can be sure that if God did give us what we asked for, we would eventually complain about that. The person who has gotten accustomed to his blessing can never be satisfied.<\/p>\n
Another evidence of this malady is the idea that others have a better situation than we do. The Israelites remembered their diet in Egypt and longed to return to the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic. They were saying, \u201cThe people in Egypt are so much better off than we are!\u201d Obviously, they had forgotten the slavery they had endured in Egypt and the terrible bondage from which God had delivered them. Slavery is a high price to pay for a change in diet.<\/p>\n
Warren Wiersbe, God Isn\u2019t In a Hurry, (Baker Books; Grand Rapids, MI, 1994), pp. 77-78<\/p>\n
Rich as a King<\/b><\/p>\n
William I, who conquered England some 930 years ago, had wealth, power, and a ruthless army. Yet although William was stupefyingly rich by the standard of his time, he had nothing remotely resembling a flush toilet. No paper towels, no riding lawn mower. How did he get by?<\/p>\n
History books are filled with wealthy people who were practically destitute compared to me. I have triple-tracked storm windows; Croesus did not. Entire nations trembled before Alexander the Great, but he couldn\u2019t buy cat food in bulk. Czar Nicholas II lacked a compound-miter saw.<\/p>\n
Given how much better off I am than so many famous dead people, you\u2019d think I\u2019d be content. The trouble is that, like most people, I compare my prosperity with that of living persons: neighbors, high-school classmates, TV personalities. The covetousness I feel toward my friend Howard\u2019s new kitchen is not mitigated by the fact that no French monarch ever had a refrigerator with glass doors.<\/p>\n
There is really no rising or falling standard of living. Over the centuries people simply find different stuff to feel grumpy about. You\u2019d think that merely not having bubonic plague would put us in a good mood. But no, we want a hot tub too.<\/p>\n
Of course, one way to achieve happiness would be to realize that even by contemporary standards the things I own are pretty nice. My house is smaller than the houses of many investment bankers, but even so it has a lot more rooms than my wife and I can keep clean.<\/p>\n
Besides, to people looking back at our era from a century or two in the future, those bankers\u2019 fancy counter tops and my own worn Formica will seem equally shabby. I can\u2019t keep up with my neighbor right now. But just wait.<\/p>\n
Condensed from Home, David Owen, in Reader\u2019s Digest, July, 1996, p. 193<\/p>\n
War Story<\/b><\/p>\n
Dana Keeton told this story in The Democratic Union of Lawrenceburg, Tennessee:<\/p>\n
The sun had just risen on a hot August day in 1944 in the small village of Plelo, in German-occupied France. The 15-year-old boy did not know why he and the other citizens of Plelo had been lined up before a firing squad in the middle of the town square. Perhaps they were being punished for harboring a unit of Marquisards, the French underground freedom fighters. Perhaps they were merely to satisfy the blood lust of the German commanding officer who, the evening before, had routed the small group of Marquisard scouts. All the boy knew was that he was about to die.<\/p>\n
As he stood before the firing squad, he remembered the carefree days of his early childhood, before the war, spent roaming the green of the French countryside. He thought about all he would miss by never growing up. Most of all he was terrified of dying. How will the bullets feel ripping through my body? he wondered. He hoped no one could hear the whimperings coming from deep in his throat every time he exhaled.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, the boy heard the sound of exploding mortar shells beyond the limits of his little village. Quickly rolling tanks could also be heard. The Germans were forced to abandon the firing squad and face a small unit of U.S. tanks with twenty GI\u2019s led by Bob Hamsley, a corporal in Patton\u2019s Third Army. A Marquisard captain had asked Hamsley for help. After three hours, fifty Nazis were dead, and the other fifty were taken prisoner.<\/p>\n
In 1990 the town of Plelo honored Bob Hamsley on the very spot where dozens of the town\u2019s citizens would have died if not for him. The man who initiated the search for Hamsley and the ceremony honoring him was the former mayor of Plelo, that same 15-year-old boy. He had determined to find the man who saved his life and honor him.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s hard to forget your savior.<\/p>\n
Tim Stafford, Florence, Alabama, quoted in Leadership, Winter Quarter, p. 49<\/p>\n
Quotes<\/b><\/p>\n
\u2022 What do you get when you cross a turkey with an octopus? Enough drumsticks for everybody. – The Bell, the Clapper, and the Cord: Wit and Witticism, (Baltimore: National Federation of the Blind, 1994), p. 62<\/p>\n
\u2022 Being thus arrived in a good harbor and brought safe to land, they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of heaven who had brought them over the vast and furious ocean. – William Bradford, Pilgrim<\/p>\n
\u2022 To set apart this day of Solemn Thanksgiving…that the Lord may behold us as a people offering praise and thereby glorifying Him. – First Thanksgiving Proclamation<\/p>\n
\u2022 Let us do good with our goods while we live…to part with what we cannot keep, that we may get what we cannot lose. – Thomas Adams, Colonial Puritan<\/p>\n
Handprint on the Wall<\/b><\/p>\n
One day as I was picking the toys up off the floor, I noticed a small hand print on the wall beside the door.<\/p>\n
I knew that it was something that I\u2019d seen most every day, but this time when I saw it there, I wanted it to stay.<\/p>\n
Then tears welled up inside my eyes, I knew it wouldn\u2019t last, for every mother knows her children grow up way too fast.<\/p>\n
Just then I put my chores aside and held my children tight. I sang to them sweet lullabies and rocked into the night.<\/p>\n
Sometimes we take for granted, all those things that seem so small. Like one of God\u2019s great treasures…. A small hand print on the wall.<\/p>\n
Source unknown<\/p>\n
Thank God for What We Cannot Lose<\/b><\/p>\n
When we express our gratitude to God, it\u2019s easy to emphasize material prosperity and the qualities of life that are wonderful to have but easy to lose. Good health is a great blessing, but it could be gone tomorrow. Into the most loving families and friendships, death intrudes when we least expect it. Our tables may be loaded with food today, but we could be out of work tomorrow and wondering about our next meal.<\/p>\n
How about taking a new approach to giving thanks today? Instead of focusing on the traditional areas of food, family, and friends, let\u2019s thank God for what we cannot lose.<\/p>\n
Romans 8:35\u201339 is a great place to begin. After considering the difficulties and calamities that can strip away the externals from our lives, Paul concluded that none of them \u201cshall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord\u201d (v. 39). God\u2019s love is unfailing, unceasing, unchanging, and unconquerable.<\/p>\n
Heavenly Father, if we have to be away from home and family today, if we are frail in body or spirit, if there is an empty place in our heart, if we have nothing to eat, we still give thanks for Your love in Christ, because no person or problem can take Your love away. – DCM<\/p>\n
What believers can not lose:<\/p>\n
\u2022 Eternal life (Jn. 10:28)<\/p>\n
\u2022 Forgiveness (1 Jn. 1:9)<\/p>\n
\u2022 God\u2019s presence (Heb. 13:5)<\/p>\n
\u2022 Access to the Lord through prayer (Heb. 4:15\u201316).<\/p>\n
Our Daily Bread, Sept.-Nov. 1997, page for November 27<\/p>\n
Grace and Providence<\/b><\/p>\n
Almighty King! whose wondrous hand Supports the weight of sea and land; Whose grace is such a boundless store, No heart shall break that sighs for more;<\/p>\n
Thy providence supplies my food, And \u2018tis Thy blessing makes it good; My soul is by Thy Word, Let soul and body praise the Lord!<\/p>\n
My streams of outward comfort came From Him who built this earthly frame; Whate\u2019er I want His bounty gives, By whom my soul for ever lives.<\/p>\n
Either His hand preserves from pain, Or, if I feel it, heals again; From Satan\u2019s malice shields my breast, Or overrules it for the best.<\/p>\n
Forgive the song that falls so low Beneath the gratitude I owe! It means Thy praise, however poor, An angel\u2019s song can do no more.<\/p>\n
Olney Hymns, William Cowper, from Cowper\u2019s Poems, Sheldon & Company, New York<\/p>\n
Thankfulness\u2014A Lost Art Today<\/b><\/p>\n
Thankfulness seems to be a lost art today. Warren Wiersbe illustrated this problem in his commentary on Colossians. He told about a ministerial student in Evanston, Illinois, who was part of a life-saving squad. In 1860, a ship went aground on the shore of Lake Michigan near Evanston, and Edward Spencer waded again and again into the frigid waters to rescue 17 passengers. In the process, his health was permanently damaged. Some years later at his funeral, it was noted that not one of the people he rescued ever thanked him.<\/p>\n
Our Daily Bread February 20, 1994<\/p>\n
I Have Everything<\/b><\/p>\n
An estimated 1.5 million people are living today after bouts with breast cancer. Every time I forget to feel grateful to be among them, I hear the voice of an eight-year-old named Christina, who had cancer of the nervous system. When asked what she wanted for her birthday, she thought long and hard and finally said, \u201cI don\u2019t know. I have two sticker books and a Cabbage Patch doll. I have everything!\u201d The kid is right.<\/p>\n
Erma Bombeck, Redbook, October, 1992<\/p>\n
Why Didn\u2019t the Nine Lepers Return?<\/b><\/p>\n
Why did only one cleansed leper return to thank Jesus? The following are nine suggested reasons why the nine did not return:<\/p>\n
\u2022 One waited to see if the cure was real.<\/p>\n
\u2022 One waited to see if it would last.<\/p>\n
\u2022 One said he would see Jesus later.<\/p>\n
\u2022 One decided that he had never had leprosy.<\/p>\n
\u2022 One said he would have gotten well anyway.<\/p>\n
\u2022 One gave the glory to the priests.<\/p>\n
\u2022 One said, \u201cO, well, Jesus didn\u2019t really do anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2022 One said, \u201cAny rabbi could have done it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2022 One said, \u201cI was already much improved.\u201d<\/p>\n
Charles L. Brown, Content The Newsletter Newsletter, June, 1990, p. 3<\/p>\n
Forgive Me When I Whine<\/b><\/p>\n
Forgive Me When I Whine<\/p>\n
Today upon a bus, I saw a lovely maid with golden hair; I envied her\u2014she seemed so gay, and how, I wished I were so fair; When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle; She had one foot and wore a crutch, but as she passed, a smile. Oh God, forgive me when I whine, I have two feet\u2014the world is mine.<\/p>\n
And when I stopped to buy some sweets, the lad who served me had such charm; He seemed to radiate good cheer, his manner was so kind and warm; I said, \u201cIt\u2019s nice to deal with you, such courtesy I seldom find\u201d; He turned and said, \u201cOh, thank you sir.\u201d And then I saw that he was blind. Oh, God, forgive me when I whine, I have two eyes, the world is mine.<\/p>\n
Then, when walking down the street, I saw a child with eyes of blue; He stood and watched the others play, it seemed he knew not what to do; I stopped a moment, then I said, \u201cWhy don\u2019t you join the others, dear?\u201d He looked ahead without a word, and then I knew he could not hear. Oh God, forgive me when I whine, I have two ears, the world is mine.<\/p>\n
With feet to take me where I\u2019d go; with eyes to see the sunsets glow, With ears to hear what I would know. I am blessed indeed. The world is mine; oh, God, forgive me when I whine.<\/p>\n
Source unknown<\/p>\n
Make No Little Plans<\/b><\/p>\n
In his autobiography, Breaking Barriers, syndicated columnist Carl Rowan tells about a teacher who greatly influenced his life. Rowan relates: Miss Thompson reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper containing a quote attributed to Chicago architect Daniel Burnham. I listened intently as she read: \u201cMake no little plans; they have no magic to stir men\u2019s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans, aim high in hope and work. Remember that our sons and grandsons are going to do things that would stagger us.\u201d<\/p>\n
More than 30 years later, I gave a speech in which I said that Frances Thompson had given me a desperately needed belief in myself. A newspaper printed the story, and someone mailed the clipping to my beloved teacher. She wrote me: \u201cYou have no idea what that newspaper story meant to me. For years, I endured my brother\u2019s arguments that I had wasted my life. That I should have married and had a family. When I read that you gave me credit for helping to launch a marvelous career, I put the clipping in front of my brother. After he\u2019d read it, I said, \u2018You see, I didn\u2019t really waste my life, did I?\u2019\u201c<\/p>\n
Published by Little, Brown\u2014January, 1992 – Reader\u2019s Digest<\/p>\n
Ironside\u2019s Rebuke on Not Giving Thanks<\/b><\/p>\n
In his book Folk Psalms Of Faith, Ray Stedman tells of an experience H.A. Ironside had in a crowded restaurant. Just as Ironside was about to begin his meal, a man approached and asked if he could join him. Ironside invited his to have a seat. Then, as was his custom, Ironside bowed his head in prayer. When he opened his eyes, the other man asked, \u201cDo you have a headache?\u201d Ironside replied, \u201cNo, I don\u2019t.\u201d The other man asked, Well, is there something wrong with your food?\u201d Ironside replied, \u201cNo, I was simply thanking God as I always do before I eat.\u201d The man said, \u201cOh, you\u2019re one of those, are you? Well, I want you to know I never give thanks. I earn my money by the sweat of my brow and I don\u2019t have to give thanks to anybody when I eat. I just start right in!\u201d Ironside said, \u201cYes, you\u2019re just like my dog. That\u2019s what he does too!\u201d<\/p>\n
Source unknown<\/p>\n
Eddie Rickenbacker and the Sea Gulls<\/b><\/p>\n
It is gratitude that prompted an old man to visit an old broken pier on the eastern seacoast of Florida. Every Friday night, until his death in 1973, he would return, walking slowly and slightly stooped with a large bucket of shrimp. The sea gulls would flock to this old man, and he would feed them from his bucket. Many years before, in October, 1942, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker was on a mission in a B-17 to deliver an important message to General Douglas MacArthur in New Guinea.<\/p>\n
But there was an unexpected detour which would hurl Captain Eddie into the most harrowing adventure of his life. Somewhere over the South Pacific the Flying Fortress became lost beyond the reach of radio. Fuel ran dangerously low, so the men ditched their plane in the ocean. for nearly a month Captain Eddie and his companions would fight the water, and the weather, and the scorching sun. They spent many sleepless nights recoiling as giant sharks rammed their rafts. The largest raft was nine by five. The biggest shark…ten feet long. But of all their enemies at sea, one proved most formidable: starvation. Eight days out, their rations were long gone or destroyed by the salt water. It would take a miracle to sustain them. And a miracle occurred. In Captain Eddie\u2019s own words, \u201cCherry,\u201d that was the B-17 pilot, Captain William Cherry, \u201cread the service that afternoon, and we finished with a prayer for deliverance and a hymn of praise. There was some talk, but it tapered off in the oppressive heat. With my hat pulled down over my eyes to keep out some of the glare, I dozed off.\u201d<\/p>\n
Now this is still Captain Rickenbacker talking…\u201dSomething landed on my head. I knew that it was a sea gull. I don\u2019t know how I knew, I just knew. Everyone else knew too. No one said a word, but peering out from under my hat brim without moving my head, I could see the expression on their faces. They were staring at that gull. The gull meant food…if I could catch it.\u201d<\/p>\n
And the rest, as they say, is history. Captain Eddie caught the gull. Its flesh was eaten. Its intestines were used for bait to catch fish. The survivors were sustained and their hopes renewed because a lone sea gull, uncharacteristically hundreds of miles from land, offered itself as a sacrifice. You know that Captain Eddie made it.<\/p>\n
And now you also know…that he never forgot. Because every Friday evening, about sunset…on a lonely stretch along the eastern Florida seacoast…you could see an old man walking…white-haired, bushy-eyebrowed, slightly bent. His bucket filled with shrimp was to feed the gulls…to remember that one which, on a day long past, gave itself without a struggle…like manna in the wilderness.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Old Man and the Gulls\u201d from Paul Harvey\u2019s The Rest of the Story by Paul Aurandt, 1977, quoted in Heaven Bound Living, Knofel Stanton, Standard, 1989, pp. 79-80<\/p>\n
Resource<\/b><\/p>\n
\u2022 God Came Near, Max Lucado, Multnomah Press, 1987, p. 155<\/p>\n
First <\/p>\n
The first American Thanksgiving didn\u2019t occur in 1621 when a group of Pilgrims shared a feast with a group of friendly Indians. The first recorded thanksgiving took place in Virginia more than 11 years earlier, and it wasn\u2019t a feast. The winter of 1610 at Jamestown had reduced a group of 409 settlers to 60. The survivors prayed for help, without knowing when or how it might come. When help arrived, in the form of a ship filled with food and supplies from England, a prayer meeting was held to give thanks to God.<\/p>\n
Today in the Word, July, 1990, p. 22<\/p>\n
Boy In a Plastic Bubble<\/b><\/p>\n
A 12 year old boy named David was born without an immune system. He underwent a bone marrow transplant in order to correct the deficiency. Up to that point he had spent his entire life in a plastic bubble in order to prevent exposure to common germs, bacteria, and viruses that could kill him. He lived without ever knowing human contact. When asked what he\u2019d like to do if and when released from his protective bubble, he replied, \u201cI want to walk barefoot on grass, and touch my mother\u2019s hand.\u201d<\/p>\n
Source unknown<\/p>\n
Thanksgiving Day<\/b><\/p>\n
To All Ye Pilgrims: Inasmuch as the great Father has given us this year an abundant harvest of Indian corn, wheat, beans, squashes, and garden vegetables, and has made the forests to abound with game and the sea with fish and clams, and inasmuch as He has protected us from the ravages of the savages, has spared us from pestilence and disease, has granted us freedom to worship God according to the dictates of our own conscience; now, I, your magistrate, do proclaim that all ye Pilgrims, with your wives and little ones, do gather at ye meeting house, on ye hill, between the hours of 9 and 12 in the day time, on Thursday, November ye 29th of the year of our Lord one thousand six hundred and twenty-three, and third year since ye Pilgrims landed on ye Pilgrim Rock, there to listen to ye pastor, and render thanksgiving to ye Almighty God for all His blessings. William Bradford, the governor of Plymouth Colony<\/p>\n
Source Unknown<\/p>\n
Table Grace<\/b><\/p>\n
In a sermon at Immanuel Presbyterian Church in Los Angeles, Gary Wilburn said: \u201cIn 1636, amid the darkness of the Thirty Years\u2019 War, a German pastor, Martin Rinkart, is said to have buried five thousand of his parishioners in one year, and average of fifteen a day. His parish was ravaged by war, death, and economic disaster. In the heart of that darkness, with the cries of fear outside his window, he sat down and wrote this table grace for his children:<\/p>\n
Now thank we all our God With heart and hands and voices; Who wondrous things had done In whom His world rejoices. Who, from our mother\u2019s arms Hath led us on our way With countless gifts of love And still is ours today.\u201d<\/p>\n
Here was a man who knew thanksgiving comes from love of God, not from outward circumstances.<\/p>\n
Don Maddox<\/p>\n
First National Thanksgiving Proclamation<\/b><\/p>\n
Whereas, it is the duty of all nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey His will, to be grateful for His benefits, and humbly to implore His protection and favor; Whereas, both the houses of Congress have, by their joint committee, requested me \u201cto recommend to the people of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer, to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favors of Almighty God, especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness!\u201d Now therefore, I do recommend next, to be devoted by the people of the states to the service of that great and glorious being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be, that we may then all unite in rendering unto Him our sincere and humble thanks for His kind care and protection of the people of this country.<\/p>\n
George Washington, 1779<\/p>\n
Always Had an Uplifting Prayer<\/b><\/p>\n
Scottish minister Alexander Whyte was known for his uplifting prayers in the pulpit. He always found something for which to be grateful. One Sunday morning the weather was so gloomy that one church member thought to himself, \u201cCertainly the preacher won\u2019t think of anything for which to thank the Lord on a wretched day like this.\u201d Much to his surprise, however, Whyte began by praying, \u201cWe thank Thee, O God, that it is not always like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
Our Daily Bread, August 26, 1989<\/p>\n
Take Your Goat into the Room With You<\/b><\/p>\n
In Budapest, a man goes to the rabbi and complains, \u201cLife is unbearable. There are nine of us living in one room. What can I do?\u201d The rabbi answers, \u201cTake your goat into the room with you.\u201d The man in incredulous, but the rabbi insists. \u201cDo as I say and come back in a week.\u201d A week later the man comes back looking more distraught than before. \u201cWe cannot stand it,\u201d he tells the rabbi. \u201cThe goat is filthy.\u201d The rabbi then tells him, \u201cGo home and let the goat out. And come back in a week.\u201d A radiant man returns to the rabbi a week later, exclaiming, \u201cLife is beautiful. We enjoy every minute of it now that there\u2019s no goat\u2014only the nine of us.\u201d<\/p>\n
George Mikes, How to be Decadent, Andre\u2019 Deutsch, London<\/p>\n
Lord Make Us Thankful<\/b><\/p>\n
Two men were walking through a field one day when they spotted an enraged bull. Instantly they darted toward the nearest fence. The storming bull followed in hot pursuit, and it was soon apparent they wouldn\u2019t make it. Terrified, the one shouted to the other, \u201cPut up a prayer, John. We\u2019re in for it!\u201d John answered, \u201cI can\u2019t. I\u2019ve never made a public prayer in my life.\u201d \u201cBut you must!\u201d implored his companion. \u201cThe bull is catching up to us.\u201d \u201cAll right,\u201d panted John, \u201cI\u2019ll say the only prayer I know, the one my father used to repeat at the table: \u2018O Lord, for what we are about to receive, make us truly thankful.\u2019\u201c<\/p>\n
Source Unknown<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Blessings that Remain There are loved ones who are missing From the fireside and the feast; There are faces that have vanished, There are voices that have ceased; But we know they passed forever From our mortal grief and pain, And we thank Thee, O our Father, For the blessings that remain. Thanksgiving, oh, … Continue reading “Thanksgiving”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1152","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sermons"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1152","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1152"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1152\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1152"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1152"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1152"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}