Thanksgiving...

Ok, so this is a day late. Thanksgiving.

I don’t know what to say on thanksgiving. It’s not like I don’t have things to be thankful for - I have more to be thankful for than I could ever express.
If I had the power of memory to recall every day that I have walked this earth, if I could look back at every moment, at every tiny detail, I know I would see how in every day of my life there have been a thousand mercies, small and great, a gold thread of grace weaved through the often broken and marred story of my life.

I am in awe.

Every time I have fallen, I have fallen into His grace. Every time I have stood and fought, I have stood and fought on His strength. Every victory has been a demonstration of His power through me, every defeat a recounting of the story of grace to the undeserving.

My story.

All that my Jesus is to me is more than I could ever say, were I eloquent enough to write a thousand volumes of verse, were I skilled enough to pen a thousand hymns of unsurpassed melody, intricate harmony, and flowing words, I would still be at a loss to describe the majesty, the glory, the wonder of He who has rescued me.

So today, I recognize again the fact that nothing I could say, nothing I could do, nothing I am or have or ever will be would be enough to offer Him. Nothing. Ever.

“The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen shall ever tell…”

“O, the deep, deep love of Jesus
Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free….”

I have been awakened by the sound of the birds singing on a May morning, walked outside to smell the earth awaking too - the barrenness of winter retreating before a verdant spring. Who am I to deserve this?

I have looked into the heavens, and seen the hidden mysteries the universe, the colossal wonders of an infinite God, the beauty of infinity, the awe-inspiring greatness of galaxies and nebulae, indescribable wonders flung out over an area so large that it is truly incomprehensible.
And what’s more, I have looked into the eyes of humanity. Rebellious, flawed, humanity. And have been given the gift to see beyond the surface. Beyond what my eyes could see, my heart has observed that even in the darkest heart, the maker’s stamp remains. The stamp of eternal love, the guarantee of hope and life and new dawn to any and every broken child of a twisted race.

It blows my mind.

So maybe the people in Subway are wondering why I’m crying, while the world keeps on spinning, while their hearts keep beating, and while an infinite God keeps pouring out His love to an undeserving wretch like me.
Love.

My thanksgiving, if it must focus on one thing, would ever make this my song and banner and only hope. Love. A Cross. Outstretched arms. The way is now open. Love. Flowing from bleeding wounds and nail pierced feet. Oh, if I had the words to describe His Love.

But I don’t. My words stumble like little children learning to walk. But like little children, may they laugh and continue joyfully to the arms of their Daddy.

I am thankful….


Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen. (I Timothy 1:17, CSB)