He doth provide
Commentary
Henry Alford's familiar hymn, "Come, Ye Thankful People, Come," so often sung at this
season of year, includes this testimony: "God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be
supplied."
Such affirmation and recognition of the provident care of God are at the heart of Thanksgiving. For Thanksgiving does not begin with our gratitude, or even with our bounty. The first principle is the generous providence of God. He is the source of our bounty. And he is the proper recipient of our worshipful gratitude.
In the three scripture readings for this day, we are rightly reminded of the many and various ways that our God doth provide.
In both the Joel and Matthew passage, we are assured of his willingness and ability to provide for us materially. His care extends to our most basic needs, and he demonstrates his loving inclination to provide in abundance.
The material needs that tend to be primary in our minds, however, are not the extent of his repertoire. The prophecy from Joel speaks of God providing for his people's vindication and compensation. He provides what they need for their dignity. And his comprehensive care covers past, present, and future.
Finally, the most significant gift of God is our salvation. We are reminded of the prophetic words and images that emerge from Abraham's near sacrifice of Isaac. In a poignant moment on the way up the dreaded mountain, Abraham makes his great statement of faith: "God himself will provide a lamb" (Genesis 22:8). And after he has been stopped from offering his own son, and has offered instead the ram provided by God, "Abraham called that place 'The Lord will provide'; as it is said to this day, 'On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided' " (v. 14).
The Ephesians passage bears witness to this most important providence of God. And when we see all things clearly, that is the gift that dwarfs all of the others, and it is the high point of our thanksgiving.
We want to let all of today's scripture readings speak to us about thanksgiving. And as they do, we will discover that the focus of our attention -- and of our gratitude -- is on the God who "doth provide."
Joel 2:21-27
Joel is perhaps the trickiest Old Testament prophet for Old Testament scholars. While many other prophets offer very helpful contemporary landmarks -- referencing specific historical events or people -- Joel defies such easy dating. As such, he is open to much speculation about the exact threats that his judgment messages anticipate.
Judgment is not Joel's only message, however. As is the case in so many of the canonical prophets, judgment is not God's final word. He has a plan for goodness and blessing on the other side of the predicted calamities. The judgment is a means to an end, not an end in itself. And this excerpt from Joel reflects some of that hopeful message -- the good news of what God will do when the judgment is passed.
In order that they might appreciate fully the imagery of this passage, we ought to give our congregations a taste of some of those earlier judgment passages from Joel. For the prophet describes in compelling language a complete and unstoppable destruction (2:4- 11). Absolute devastation will be left in judgment's wake (1:9-20; 2:3). The countryside will be a wasteland, with every tree stripped and every green thing consumed.
It is in dramatic contrast and response to those images, then, that this message is presented. God paints a picture of the entire land as a kind of glorious cornucopia. The fields and trees burst with their produce, and the wine and oil overflow with abundance.
One of the hallmarks of God's provident care in scripture is the uncontainable quality of his generosity. Jesus does not merely satisfy the appetites of the 5,000 hungry men; he so over provides that there is more food leftover than there was food to begin with. The manna and the quails in the wilderness were supplied in a measure that exceeded the need even of that vast multitude of Israelites. His reward is not merely adequate, but "pressed down, shaken together, running over" (Luke 6:38), and his work within us is "far more than all we can ask or imagine" (Ephesians 3:20).
So, too, here in the promises made through Joel. The picture is not merely of people who have enough to eat again. No, but rather a people who are immersed in the flood of God's generosity.
And then the good news gets still better. The goodness of God is not limited to the promise of a bumper crop. It goes deeper than that. Just as the former devastation and scarcity had a spiritual cause and meaning, so also the abundance is about more than just bushels and vats.
Part of the promise and picture, for example, is a return to healthy normality of nature's seasons. The Lord guarantees "the early and the later rain, as before." Symbolic of the deeper meaning, however, is that the early rain is specifically identified as "for your vindication." Not just for their fields, but for their vindication.
Moreover, God promises to cover their losses. "I will repay you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent against you." It's a remarkable grace that compensates us for the punishment that we deserved. And it is a beautiful testimony to his strong and versatile goodness that his generosity reaches back, as well as forward. The promises are not just for tomorrow; remarkably, they are for yesterday, too!
Finally, the promise that began with simple things like rain and grain concludes with three profound goals: 1) "You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel"; 2) "You shall know ... that I, the Lord, am your God and there is no other"; and 3) "My people shall never again be put to shame."
1 Timothy 2:1-7
By the time the New Testament opens, the Roman Empire had been occupying Palestine for more than a generation. Roman soldiers were ubiquitous. Roman officials -- and/or locally appointed puppets -- were the civil authorities. And taxes were collected by Rome to subsidize the whole occupation.
Meanwhile, by the time the New Testament era closes, the presence and impact of Rome is even more sinister. Rome is no longer just the unwelcome and oppressive foreign occupier for the Jews in Palestine. Now Rome has set itself up as the persecutor of the church throughout the empire, and as such Rome is seen by Christians as the enemy of Christ. The question of an individual's ultimate allegiance was embodied by these two competing claims: Caesar is lord; Jesus is Lord.
It is in the face of that, then, that the apostle urges that "supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions." It is a remarkable instruction, given the fatal antagonism of some of those kings toward the believers of Timothy's day. One might expect a more subversive or bitter exhortation. Or if one were to invoke one's gods at all in regard to those "kings and all who are in high positions," it would be in the manner that Balak sought from Balaam: a divine curse on one's enemy.
It is noteworthy that the apostle so specifically mentions those civil authorities. He generically refers to "everyone," but he does not leave the instruction so general. Instead, he goes out of his way to specify a particular -- and probably resented -- category of people.
Our natural human tendency, it seems, is to include in our prayers -- that is, in our supplications, in our thanksgivings, and in our intercessions -- the people we love. No one has to go out of his way to teach me that I should pray for my wife, children, and other family members. But I do need someone to instruct me to pray for those who are antagonistic -- perhaps even threatening -- to me, for I would not do it naturally.
Interestingly, Paul's stated rationale for his extraordinary instruction has nothing ultimately to do with those civil authorities. Rather, his goal is "that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity." The paradigm is reminiscent of Jesus' "audience of One" instructions in the Sermon on the Mount (see, for example, Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). Those kings and others in high positions will not likely know one way or the other whether we are praying for them or cursing them under our breath. No matter, for it's not really about them. Rather, the issue is living faithfully before our God.
Meanwhile, Paul's statement about Jesus -- "there is also one mediator between God and humankind, Christ Jesus, himself human" -- brings to mind the plight of Job. Feeling distanced from God, and unable to reach him, Job laments, "He is not a mortal, as I am, that I might answer him, that we should come to trial together" (Job 9:32). And so Job expresses the need for a mediator: "There is no umpire between us, who might lay his hand on us both" (v. 33).
It may well be that someone in your pews or mine will be feeling that God is far away and unreachable. They might resonate with Job's wish that there was someone who could serve as a go-between: some rare individual who was able to lay a hand on God himself, and yet not also be distant and untouchable. They would welcome the good news Paul brings that there is just such a mediator: Jesus Christ -- both God and man -- able to touch both and bring the two together.
Finally, an observation about Paul's literary style in this passage.
Like Noah's animals boarding the Ark two-by-two, here in this passage it seems that Paul makes his points "two-by-two," for virtually everything he says comes in sets of two. Consider the following phrases: "kings and all who are in high positions," "quiet and peaceable," "godliness and dignity," "right and acceptable," "to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth," "a herald and an apostle," and "faith and truth." If I were going to preach an expository sermon on this passage, I would organize my message around these theological couplets.
Matthew 6:25-33
Jesus was Jewish. His disciples were all Jewish. The multitudes that flocked to hear him in Galilee must have been predominantly, if not exclusively, Jewish. And Matthew's particular gospel has often been nicknamed, "The Gospel for the Jews," because of the apparent audience for which Matthew was writing.
In light of all of that, what does it mean when Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, makes reference to the Gentiles?
See the startling thing that Jesus said to his audience. It is a kind of verbal slap in the face, for he implies that they are being like "the Gentiles." Referring to a concern for food, drink, and clothing, Jesus observes, "It is the Gentiles who strive for all these things."
For our purposes, of course, the term is a problematic one. Most of us -- and most of the people in our pews -- are Gentiles. And so we will need to find some way of translating the message anew to make it meaningful. What shall we say instead of "the Gentiles"? How can we capture for our congregations the strong, even offensive thing that Jesus is saying? Is it "the unbelievers" who strive for all these things? Is it those people who have no knowledge of God? Those who have no faith in him? Those who have no relationship with him? Are they the ones who strive for all these things?
Of course, they are not. Not exclusively, at least. These are standard fare human concerns. This is not the stuff of either immorality or heresy. It is a quite ordinary and natural human instinct to be concerned about how the basic needs of life are going to be met. And yet Jesus chides his audience for their preoccupation with these matters, for that is not how the people of God should operate.
The passage cuts across our grain right from the start. "Do not worry about your life," Jesus says. Don't worry about my life? What kind of impossible and unnatural instruction is that? How can a person not worry about his life? Candidly, Jesus seems a bit out of touch with reality.
In truth, however, Jesus is entirely in touch with -- a different reality. And his teaching is designed to put us in touch with that reality, as well.
If I am an adult man making a drive from Wisconsin to Tennessee, then I must be concerned about directions, fuel level, toll roads, speed limits, and such. That's the reality if I am an adult.
On the other hand, if I am a child and my dad is the driver, then I do not need to be concerned about such things. The directions, fuel, and the rest are still just as important as before, mind you; but they are not my concern.
That is the kind of reality Jesus presents to us. It's a reality about our heavenly Father. It's a paradigm that does not focus on the need but on the source.
In day-to-day life, when someone tells us not to worry about a thing, it can seem like a minimization of something important to us. If my five-year-old daughter is all upset about one of her toys being missing, her older sister may say dismissively, "Oh, don't worry about it!" And so, when Jesus first says to us, "Do not worry about your life," it may seem to us that he is minimizing something that is important to us.
In reality, though, Jesus' words are most life-affirming. His teaching values our lives more highly than our worrying does, for he insists that life is "more than food, and the body more than clothing." Then, at the end of the passage, he reveals the real value of life.
If the chief concern of my life is food and clothes, then they become my purpose, my raison d'être. And such a purpose devalues my existence, confining me to that which is temporal and passing. But Jesus points beyond the myopia of my physical needs to a much farther horizon: "Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness."
You and I may set aside our concerns for fuel levels and toll roads, leaving them to our Father. And, instead, we may elevate our concerns -- and thus our reason for being -- to things high and eternal: the things of God.
Application
God our Maker doth provide. That is the testimony of the hymn, and each of today's lections bears witness to that same truth. They invite us to ponder together the implications of how he provides.
The fact that he provides becomes the source of our peace. We do not need to worry, Jesus assures us, because our Father already knows our needs and can be trusted to provide for them.
The fact that he provides becomes our liberty. We are not sentenced to live in constant and meaningless pursuit of things temporal. Rather, we are called to strive for higher things. The highest! Far from God minimizing our basic needs, he enables us to minimize them: that is, to keep them from becoming all-important in our lives because we leave them to him.
And, finally, the fact that he provides becomes the cause and the context of our worship and thanksgiving. God promised the people of Joel's day, "You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you." If there is a phrase that could serve as the caption for our Thanksgiving holiday, it is the first part of that verse. Let the whole verse be true in our lives and our homes this Thanksgiving holiday.
Alternative Application
Matthew 6:25-33. "Enter Your Destination." When I was a child, my parents would plan a family trip by getting out maps and atlases, spreading them out on the kitchen table, evaluating possible routes, and adding in their heads the tiny little red and black numbers along the highways to determine the total mileage.
It's all a far cry from how I plan trips for my family today.
I use my computer and go to one of several websites; I enter my starting address; I enter my destination; and, in a matter of seconds, I have a complete itinerary, with total mileage, estimated travel time, and detailed directions. With just a little more effort and only a few more minutes, I can add in specific stops on the way, make motel reservations, identify favorite restaurant chains, and locate points of interest along my route.
Many of the folks in your congregation will also be accustomed to this more high-tech method of planning a trip. They will understand, therefore, what it means to "enter your destination."
Arriving at your destination, of course, comes at the end of the trip. But entering your destination comes at the beginning. Indeed, before the beginning. For when you first start to plan your journey, you have to identify where you intend to go.
Jesus challenges us to enter our destination, and to be wise about it. On a family car trip, your destination is about where you drive. In life, your destination is about where you strive.
On the one hand, there is a very ordinary sort of human destination. We may, like "the Gentiles," strive for routine things like food, drink, and clothing. In the process, however, we choose for ourselves such a small and temporal destination.
On the other hand, there is that peculiar goal and focus of Jesus' followers: the kingdom of God. Strive for that and you choose for yourself a magnificent and eternal destination. And, by the way, you'll have all the rest of those routine needs provided, too.
So let's invite our people to enter their destinations today: to make a conscious decision about where and for what they want to strive, to steer clear of the common detours, and to take the steps required to get there.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 126
Thanksgiving is a favorite holiday. There is nothing quite like this time when friends and families gather for a feast and a time of thankfulness. It truly is a great holiday on the calendar. However, it's important for us to realize that in the mix of our lives, Thanksgiving is not a Christian holiday. Thanksgiving was formally declared a holiday by President Lincoln during the struggles of our Civil War. In the ensuing years, it has woven itself into our culture to such a degree that we mark it on our liturgical calendars as though it were part of our Christian calendar.
Only the severest of cynics would attack Thanksgiving as a holiday. After all, what could possibly be wrong with giving thanks? Nothing. Nothing is wrong with this holiday. Indeed, this writer spends a good portion of the months prior to Thanksgiving scouring cookbooks for new ways to stuff a turkey. No. Whatever you do, leave Thanksgiving alone.
The only point that needs to be made for us, as people of God, is that for us Thanksgiving is not a holiday. Let's continue to take that fourth Thursday in November as a time to give thanks and gather in warmth and love, but let's move forward and take it a step further as a people of faith. Let us embrace Thanksgiving, not as one day on the calendar, but as a way of being.
The Lord has indeed "done great things for us," and as we awaken to the many blessings God has given us, thankfulness is a natural response. The challenge to us, though, is to claim thankfulness as a way of life. The call to us is to awaken each morning with a thankful heart for the gifts of breath and life. The pathway open to us is the intentional shaping of our moments and days so that each breath, each step, each word spoken is an utterance of profound thanksgiving.
And it's this intentionality that is most difficult. We have a way of forgetting, of slipping away from what some church folk call "an attitude of gratitude." Yet the call to live our lives on purpose in the Lord continues to come to us, steadily, patiently, persistently.
On this Thanksgiving Day, then, perhaps the church can hear the call to be a people who live lives of thankfulness. Maybe your congregation could step into a renewal space, taking each moment as an opportunity for thankfulness. Imagine, on this day of thanks, what would happen if every person entered each new experience, even the challenging ones, as a new chance to give thanks to God for the innumerable blessings that have been bestowed upon us.
Such affirmation and recognition of the provident care of God are at the heart of Thanksgiving. For Thanksgiving does not begin with our gratitude, or even with our bounty. The first principle is the generous providence of God. He is the source of our bounty. And he is the proper recipient of our worshipful gratitude.
In the three scripture readings for this day, we are rightly reminded of the many and various ways that our God doth provide.
In both the Joel and Matthew passage, we are assured of his willingness and ability to provide for us materially. His care extends to our most basic needs, and he demonstrates his loving inclination to provide in abundance.
The material needs that tend to be primary in our minds, however, are not the extent of his repertoire. The prophecy from Joel speaks of God providing for his people's vindication and compensation. He provides what they need for their dignity. And his comprehensive care covers past, present, and future.
Finally, the most significant gift of God is our salvation. We are reminded of the prophetic words and images that emerge from Abraham's near sacrifice of Isaac. In a poignant moment on the way up the dreaded mountain, Abraham makes his great statement of faith: "God himself will provide a lamb" (Genesis 22:8). And after he has been stopped from offering his own son, and has offered instead the ram provided by God, "Abraham called that place 'The Lord will provide'; as it is said to this day, 'On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided' " (v. 14).
The Ephesians passage bears witness to this most important providence of God. And when we see all things clearly, that is the gift that dwarfs all of the others, and it is the high point of our thanksgiving.
We want to let all of today's scripture readings speak to us about thanksgiving. And as they do, we will discover that the focus of our attention -- and of our gratitude -- is on the God who "doth provide."
Joel 2:21-27
Joel is perhaps the trickiest Old Testament prophet for Old Testament scholars. While many other prophets offer very helpful contemporary landmarks -- referencing specific historical events or people -- Joel defies such easy dating. As such, he is open to much speculation about the exact threats that his judgment messages anticipate.
Judgment is not Joel's only message, however. As is the case in so many of the canonical prophets, judgment is not God's final word. He has a plan for goodness and blessing on the other side of the predicted calamities. The judgment is a means to an end, not an end in itself. And this excerpt from Joel reflects some of that hopeful message -- the good news of what God will do when the judgment is passed.
In order that they might appreciate fully the imagery of this passage, we ought to give our congregations a taste of some of those earlier judgment passages from Joel. For the prophet describes in compelling language a complete and unstoppable destruction (2:4- 11). Absolute devastation will be left in judgment's wake (1:9-20; 2:3). The countryside will be a wasteland, with every tree stripped and every green thing consumed.
It is in dramatic contrast and response to those images, then, that this message is presented. God paints a picture of the entire land as a kind of glorious cornucopia. The fields and trees burst with their produce, and the wine and oil overflow with abundance.
One of the hallmarks of God's provident care in scripture is the uncontainable quality of his generosity. Jesus does not merely satisfy the appetites of the 5,000 hungry men; he so over provides that there is more food leftover than there was food to begin with. The manna and the quails in the wilderness were supplied in a measure that exceeded the need even of that vast multitude of Israelites. His reward is not merely adequate, but "pressed down, shaken together, running over" (Luke 6:38), and his work within us is "far more than all we can ask or imagine" (Ephesians 3:20).
So, too, here in the promises made through Joel. The picture is not merely of people who have enough to eat again. No, but rather a people who are immersed in the flood of God's generosity.
And then the good news gets still better. The goodness of God is not limited to the promise of a bumper crop. It goes deeper than that. Just as the former devastation and scarcity had a spiritual cause and meaning, so also the abundance is about more than just bushels and vats.
Part of the promise and picture, for example, is a return to healthy normality of nature's seasons. The Lord guarantees "the early and the later rain, as before." Symbolic of the deeper meaning, however, is that the early rain is specifically identified as "for your vindication." Not just for their fields, but for their vindication.
Moreover, God promises to cover their losses. "I will repay you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent against you." It's a remarkable grace that compensates us for the punishment that we deserved. And it is a beautiful testimony to his strong and versatile goodness that his generosity reaches back, as well as forward. The promises are not just for tomorrow; remarkably, they are for yesterday, too!
Finally, the promise that began with simple things like rain and grain concludes with three profound goals: 1) "You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel"; 2) "You shall know ... that I, the Lord, am your God and there is no other"; and 3) "My people shall never again be put to shame."
1 Timothy 2:1-7
By the time the New Testament opens, the Roman Empire had been occupying Palestine for more than a generation. Roman soldiers were ubiquitous. Roman officials -- and/or locally appointed puppets -- were the civil authorities. And taxes were collected by Rome to subsidize the whole occupation.
Meanwhile, by the time the New Testament era closes, the presence and impact of Rome is even more sinister. Rome is no longer just the unwelcome and oppressive foreign occupier for the Jews in Palestine. Now Rome has set itself up as the persecutor of the church throughout the empire, and as such Rome is seen by Christians as the enemy of Christ. The question of an individual's ultimate allegiance was embodied by these two competing claims: Caesar is lord; Jesus is Lord.
It is in the face of that, then, that the apostle urges that "supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions." It is a remarkable instruction, given the fatal antagonism of some of those kings toward the believers of Timothy's day. One might expect a more subversive or bitter exhortation. Or if one were to invoke one's gods at all in regard to those "kings and all who are in high positions," it would be in the manner that Balak sought from Balaam: a divine curse on one's enemy.
It is noteworthy that the apostle so specifically mentions those civil authorities. He generically refers to "everyone," but he does not leave the instruction so general. Instead, he goes out of his way to specify a particular -- and probably resented -- category of people.
Our natural human tendency, it seems, is to include in our prayers -- that is, in our supplications, in our thanksgivings, and in our intercessions -- the people we love. No one has to go out of his way to teach me that I should pray for my wife, children, and other family members. But I do need someone to instruct me to pray for those who are antagonistic -- perhaps even threatening -- to me, for I would not do it naturally.
Interestingly, Paul's stated rationale for his extraordinary instruction has nothing ultimately to do with those civil authorities. Rather, his goal is "that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity." The paradigm is reminiscent of Jesus' "audience of One" instructions in the Sermon on the Mount (see, for example, Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). Those kings and others in high positions will not likely know one way or the other whether we are praying for them or cursing them under our breath. No matter, for it's not really about them. Rather, the issue is living faithfully before our God.
Meanwhile, Paul's statement about Jesus -- "there is also one mediator between God and humankind, Christ Jesus, himself human" -- brings to mind the plight of Job. Feeling distanced from God, and unable to reach him, Job laments, "He is not a mortal, as I am, that I might answer him, that we should come to trial together" (Job 9:32). And so Job expresses the need for a mediator: "There is no umpire between us, who might lay his hand on us both" (v. 33).
It may well be that someone in your pews or mine will be feeling that God is far away and unreachable. They might resonate with Job's wish that there was someone who could serve as a go-between: some rare individual who was able to lay a hand on God himself, and yet not also be distant and untouchable. They would welcome the good news Paul brings that there is just such a mediator: Jesus Christ -- both God and man -- able to touch both and bring the two together.
Finally, an observation about Paul's literary style in this passage.
Like Noah's animals boarding the Ark two-by-two, here in this passage it seems that Paul makes his points "two-by-two," for virtually everything he says comes in sets of two. Consider the following phrases: "kings and all who are in high positions," "quiet and peaceable," "godliness and dignity," "right and acceptable," "to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth," "a herald and an apostle," and "faith and truth." If I were going to preach an expository sermon on this passage, I would organize my message around these theological couplets.
Matthew 6:25-33
Jesus was Jewish. His disciples were all Jewish. The multitudes that flocked to hear him in Galilee must have been predominantly, if not exclusively, Jewish. And Matthew's particular gospel has often been nicknamed, "The Gospel for the Jews," because of the apparent audience for which Matthew was writing.
In light of all of that, what does it mean when Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, makes reference to the Gentiles?
See the startling thing that Jesus said to his audience. It is a kind of verbal slap in the face, for he implies that they are being like "the Gentiles." Referring to a concern for food, drink, and clothing, Jesus observes, "It is the Gentiles who strive for all these things."
For our purposes, of course, the term is a problematic one. Most of us -- and most of the people in our pews -- are Gentiles. And so we will need to find some way of translating the message anew to make it meaningful. What shall we say instead of "the Gentiles"? How can we capture for our congregations the strong, even offensive thing that Jesus is saying? Is it "the unbelievers" who strive for all these things? Is it those people who have no knowledge of God? Those who have no faith in him? Those who have no relationship with him? Are they the ones who strive for all these things?
Of course, they are not. Not exclusively, at least. These are standard fare human concerns. This is not the stuff of either immorality or heresy. It is a quite ordinary and natural human instinct to be concerned about how the basic needs of life are going to be met. And yet Jesus chides his audience for their preoccupation with these matters, for that is not how the people of God should operate.
The passage cuts across our grain right from the start. "Do not worry about your life," Jesus says. Don't worry about my life? What kind of impossible and unnatural instruction is that? How can a person not worry about his life? Candidly, Jesus seems a bit out of touch with reality.
In truth, however, Jesus is entirely in touch with -- a different reality. And his teaching is designed to put us in touch with that reality, as well.
If I am an adult man making a drive from Wisconsin to Tennessee, then I must be concerned about directions, fuel level, toll roads, speed limits, and such. That's the reality if I am an adult.
On the other hand, if I am a child and my dad is the driver, then I do not need to be concerned about such things. The directions, fuel, and the rest are still just as important as before, mind you; but they are not my concern.
That is the kind of reality Jesus presents to us. It's a reality about our heavenly Father. It's a paradigm that does not focus on the need but on the source.
In day-to-day life, when someone tells us not to worry about a thing, it can seem like a minimization of something important to us. If my five-year-old daughter is all upset about one of her toys being missing, her older sister may say dismissively, "Oh, don't worry about it!" And so, when Jesus first says to us, "Do not worry about your life," it may seem to us that he is minimizing something that is important to us.
In reality, though, Jesus' words are most life-affirming. His teaching values our lives more highly than our worrying does, for he insists that life is "more than food, and the body more than clothing." Then, at the end of the passage, he reveals the real value of life.
If the chief concern of my life is food and clothes, then they become my purpose, my raison d'être. And such a purpose devalues my existence, confining me to that which is temporal and passing. But Jesus points beyond the myopia of my physical needs to a much farther horizon: "Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness."
You and I may set aside our concerns for fuel levels and toll roads, leaving them to our Father. And, instead, we may elevate our concerns -- and thus our reason for being -- to things high and eternal: the things of God.
Application
God our Maker doth provide. That is the testimony of the hymn, and each of today's lections bears witness to that same truth. They invite us to ponder together the implications of how he provides.
The fact that he provides becomes the source of our peace. We do not need to worry, Jesus assures us, because our Father already knows our needs and can be trusted to provide for them.
The fact that he provides becomes our liberty. We are not sentenced to live in constant and meaningless pursuit of things temporal. Rather, we are called to strive for higher things. The highest! Far from God minimizing our basic needs, he enables us to minimize them: that is, to keep them from becoming all-important in our lives because we leave them to him.
And, finally, the fact that he provides becomes the cause and the context of our worship and thanksgiving. God promised the people of Joel's day, "You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you." If there is a phrase that could serve as the caption for our Thanksgiving holiday, it is the first part of that verse. Let the whole verse be true in our lives and our homes this Thanksgiving holiday.
Alternative Application
Matthew 6:25-33. "Enter Your Destination." When I was a child, my parents would plan a family trip by getting out maps and atlases, spreading them out on the kitchen table, evaluating possible routes, and adding in their heads the tiny little red and black numbers along the highways to determine the total mileage.
It's all a far cry from how I plan trips for my family today.
I use my computer and go to one of several websites; I enter my starting address; I enter my destination; and, in a matter of seconds, I have a complete itinerary, with total mileage, estimated travel time, and detailed directions. With just a little more effort and only a few more minutes, I can add in specific stops on the way, make motel reservations, identify favorite restaurant chains, and locate points of interest along my route.
Many of the folks in your congregation will also be accustomed to this more high-tech method of planning a trip. They will understand, therefore, what it means to "enter your destination."
Arriving at your destination, of course, comes at the end of the trip. But entering your destination comes at the beginning. Indeed, before the beginning. For when you first start to plan your journey, you have to identify where you intend to go.
Jesus challenges us to enter our destination, and to be wise about it. On a family car trip, your destination is about where you drive. In life, your destination is about where you strive.
On the one hand, there is a very ordinary sort of human destination. We may, like "the Gentiles," strive for routine things like food, drink, and clothing. In the process, however, we choose for ourselves such a small and temporal destination.
On the other hand, there is that peculiar goal and focus of Jesus' followers: the kingdom of God. Strive for that and you choose for yourself a magnificent and eternal destination. And, by the way, you'll have all the rest of those routine needs provided, too.
So let's invite our people to enter their destinations today: to make a conscious decision about where and for what they want to strive, to steer clear of the common detours, and to take the steps required to get there.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 126
Thanksgiving is a favorite holiday. There is nothing quite like this time when friends and families gather for a feast and a time of thankfulness. It truly is a great holiday on the calendar. However, it's important for us to realize that in the mix of our lives, Thanksgiving is not a Christian holiday. Thanksgiving was formally declared a holiday by President Lincoln during the struggles of our Civil War. In the ensuing years, it has woven itself into our culture to such a degree that we mark it on our liturgical calendars as though it were part of our Christian calendar.
Only the severest of cynics would attack Thanksgiving as a holiday. After all, what could possibly be wrong with giving thanks? Nothing. Nothing is wrong with this holiday. Indeed, this writer spends a good portion of the months prior to Thanksgiving scouring cookbooks for new ways to stuff a turkey. No. Whatever you do, leave Thanksgiving alone.
The only point that needs to be made for us, as people of God, is that for us Thanksgiving is not a holiday. Let's continue to take that fourth Thursday in November as a time to give thanks and gather in warmth and love, but let's move forward and take it a step further as a people of faith. Let us embrace Thanksgiving, not as one day on the calendar, but as a way of being.
The Lord has indeed "done great things for us," and as we awaken to the many blessings God has given us, thankfulness is a natural response. The challenge to us, though, is to claim thankfulness as a way of life. The call to us is to awaken each morning with a thankful heart for the gifts of breath and life. The pathway open to us is the intentional shaping of our moments and days so that each breath, each step, each word spoken is an utterance of profound thanksgiving.
And it's this intentionality that is most difficult. We have a way of forgetting, of slipping away from what some church folk call "an attitude of gratitude." Yet the call to live our lives on purpose in the Lord continues to come to us, steadily, patiently, persistently.
On this Thanksgiving Day, then, perhaps the church can hear the call to be a people who live lives of thankfulness. Maybe your congregation could step into a renewal space, taking each moment as an opportunity for thankfulness. Imagine, on this day of thanks, what would happen if every person entered each new experience, even the challenging ones, as a new chance to give thanks to God for the innumerable blessings that have been bestowed upon us.
