On Being Thankful - Chris Tibbetts

Give me some of that red stuff, red stuff.  Years ago, I read that to my wife while working through Dr. John Currid’s exemplary commentary on Genesis.  It’s not how the verse comes across in our English translations, but it gives us a picture of Esau’s infamous dismissal of his birthright blessing.  We can feel the moment a bit more clearly, because we’ve all likely said the same thing at some point — or at many points — in our lives.  Just give me some of that red stuff.  In the many years that have passed, “red stuff” has become a euphemism between my wife and I for the myriad behaviors, lifestyles, and attitudes that lust after immediate gratification, with little or no concern for the consequences beyond. Give me some of that red stuff.  

As we enter this week into a focused season of thanksgiving, what does “thanksgiving” mean for the Christian?  Or more practically, how does it function in the life of a Christian?  In our day, where words have been granted a newfound plasticity of meaning that would’ve sent my high school English composition teacher into an exasperated early retirement, have Christians also fallen prey?  Or worse, have Christians heartily joined in the predation?  Much like the ubiquity of “good” people in our world, that seems to contrast greatly with the reality we observe, but fits the narrative we wish to believe, has “being thankful” become a similarly vacuous colloquialism?  What is the standard — what is the canon — by which we define “thanksgiving?”

It’s why Christians tend to stress “giving” thanks, in addition to “being” thankful.  Both are important, but the former emphasizes our posture before the one who has granted blessing — acknowledges the fact that there is one who has granted blessing.  The latter, on its own, can drift into any variety of things that we may fashion.  Thanksgiving is not merely a declared state of feeling.  It is active.  It should color our response to the world.  It should color our approach to our relationship with God.  It should engender a spirit of humility, even when the temptation is there to focus our gaze and our praise, upon the tower of our red stuff.

This Thanksgiving holiday, supermarket commercials and football commentators will encourage us to pause and reflect on the common grace of God, although they’ll say nothing explicit about it.  Some people will indeed pause.  Some people will never pause at all.  And still other people, will consider a mental ledger of things in their life for which to be thankful, but tragically, they’ll have absolutely no idea to whom to render thanks.  The material goods on their ledger is merely stuff.  It’s fleeting.  An impetus for thanks this year, a donation to Goodwill next year.  Their friends, their family, and their health will cause a spirit and perhaps an expression of gratitude — a healthy and welcome practice, to be sure — but what happens if and when friendships, family relationships, or health deteriorate?  Being thankful is hard if we have no idea to whom to render thanks.

To whom then, are we thankful?  And for what exactly are we the most thankful?  In God’s common grace he causes the sun to rise the same upon all the people in the world, both those who know him and those who don’t.  In God’s redeeming grace, though, he has saved his people through faith.  It is a gift of God.  To grant us a blessing beyond our comprehension, though we should pause to do exactly that this week.  Christian, do not reduce God’s grace to a mental ledger of things.  Be thankful for those.  Express thanks to your friends and your family members for the blessings you have enjoyed through their lives.  But consider your mental ledger of thankfulness through the lens of the abundance of his redeeming grace.  

Give me some of that red stuff, red stuff.  Is God the God of the “red stuff,” or is he the God of the Promise?  Of course, the answer is yes.  In life, we will all bounce from red stuff to red stuff.  No matter how great it is, it will always be exhausted at some point.  Sure we’ll look for the next source of temporal satisfaction.  Sometimes we’ll do so aggressively and successfully, and we’ll stand on top of the mountain of red stuff feeling satisfied and thankful for a season.  But that’s not the point, is it?  How do we approach God in our lives?  Is he the God of the “red stuff” or is he the God of the Promise?  What are you thankful for?  And most importantly, to whom are you thankful?