On this — the week of offering deep thanks over steaming bowls and heaping platters and tables dressed in earthen hues — how can I properly thank You? I know that as thankful as I think I am, I’m not even close to giving proper thanks for the gifts, seen and unseen.
Because yes, we have our health, and full cupboards, and two cars, and billfolds with enough, and a warm house, and daughters, and the love between a man and a woman, and a lot of laughter, and a church just up the road, and a place to put down roots here at the end of this dusty country lane. But we have so much more that that.
We have You.
I can’t get over the sacrifice, and am reminded today by the words on page 527 of my grandmother’s hymnal.
And can it be that I should gain
An interest in the Savior’s blood?
Died he for me, who caused his pain?
For me, who him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That thou, my Lord, shouldst die for me?
— Charles Wesley, 1707-1788
How can I thank you, Jesus?
How can it be that I — a sinner — should gain an inheritance?
I caused the pain,
yet get a crown.
My sin pierced you,
yet I receive healing.
You who had no sin,
became sin for us.
How can I thank You enough for the wonderful, scandalous cross? It’s Black Friday, but today I remember Good Friday.
Edited post from last year’s archives.