Thankful for the Source, Not the Stuff

Here's my question about Thanksgiving. We feast, we watch football, we nap. And then what do you do after the nap? You go right back for a turkey sandwich, or the pie, or another round of mashed potatoes.

Here's the short answer: Thanksgiving doesn't last if it's based on food, because food and fullness fade. If it's based on a full table with family, at some point there's likely to be an empty chair. If thankfulness to us is food and feasting and family, it will only last as long as the leftovers.

God didn't leave thankfulness up to our moods. He wrote a song for it.

Know that the LORD, He is God; It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves; We are His people and the sheep of His pasture. (Psalm 100:3)

Notice that Psalm 100 says the Lord is. Not the Lord was. This isn't an old has-been God, and it isn't only about a God who will be. He's the I AM, the God who does not change. He is our maker, our shepherd, and our joy.

He made you

Psalm 100 comes with a title: "A Psalm of Thanksgiving." The Hebrew word is todah. It's what you feel when you step into the presence of the source of all things.

Some people call themselves self-made. Did you create the air you just breathed? Did you arrange to be born in this time and this place, with access to education and food? At some point, Thanksgiving isn't about us. It's about our maker.

When Jesus met the woman at the well, He asked her for a drink. Then He turned it around:

Jesus answered and said to her, "If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, 'Give Me a drink,' you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water." (John 4:10)

You should be thankful for a cold glass of water on a hot day. But you'll drink it, and you'll be thirsty again. Get a bucket and you just have several glasses. Own the whole well, and wells still run dry. Some of us are there right now, thinking, "I've got nothing to be thankful for." Jesus is pointing past the cup, the bucket, and the well to the spring that fills them all. He wants us to ask for the source.

He's your shepherd

I am the good shepherd; and I know My sheep, and am known by My own. (John 10:14)

The sheep don't own the pasture. They don't plant the grass or make the sun shine. They're completely dependent on the shepherd. (Somebody pointed out to me that the only thing sheep contribute to a pasture is fertilizer.)

When something good happens to someone who doesn't know God, they call it luck. But when you're a sheep of His pasture, you don't credit luck. You credit love. You have a good shepherd who makes you lie down in green pastures, leads you beside still waters, and restores your soul.

So you could be having the worst week of your life and still be thankful, because it doesn't depend on the stuffing. It doesn't depend on whether the kids can get Thursday off, or whether the family lives too far apart. Half of the Pilgrims died that first year. If thankfulness depended on a full table, they'd have had none.

That's why you shout

Make a joyful shout to the LORD, all you lands! (Psalm 100:1)

It's the kind of noise you make at the TV on Thanksgiving afternoon, either because your team scored or because the referee said it wasn't a catch when he clearly had two feet in. You can't spell it. It's just "Woo!" or "Argh!"

Why can we shout at games and not shout for God? We get so worked up over stuff and forget the stuff came from the source. It's His grass. It's His still water. And "all you lands" means this song isn't just for one nation or one era. Wherever you are, whenever you are, He's calling you to come in shouting thanks. Not for the stuff you have, or the circumstances you're in, but for the God you have.

This week, when you catch yourself being thankful for something, don't stop at the cup. Follow it back to the source and thank Him by name. Then try memorizing Psalm 100. It's short enough to learn this week and deep enough to keep you chewing on it all month.