Giver of Thanksgiving
"What shall I return to the LORD for all his goodness to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD. I will fulfill my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people. Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants. Truly I am your servant, LORD; I serve you just as my mother did; you have freed me from my chains. I will sacrifice a thank offering to you and call on the name of the LORD. I will fulfill my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people, in the courts of the house of the LORD— in your midst, Jerusalem. Praise the LORD." (Psalm 116:12-19 NIV)
The psalmist spends the first half of Psalm 116 recounting God's goodness to him: "he heard my voice" (v. 1); "he heard my cry" (v.1); "he turned his ear to me" (v. 2); "he saved me" (v. 6); he "delivered me from death" (v. 8).
Then he opens the second half of the psalm with a question: "what shall I return to the LORD for all his goodness to me?" (Psalm 116:12).
Basically: what will I give back to God for all He's given me?
This is a question we might ask ourselves. (And by "we," I mean first and foremost "me.")
The psalmist answers his own question several ways: "I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord" (v. 12); "I will fulfill my vows" (v. 14); and in verse 17, "I will sacrifice a thank offering to you."
I've often told my daughters that a sacrifice is something hard to give that costs us something. (I've usually said this on the way to church on grumpy Sunday mornings, in the context of shouting, "Sacrifice of praise! Give a sacrifice of praise!")
If indeed this is true—that a sacrifice requires something from us that is not easy to give and causes us some discomfort—how does that apply to our own "thank offerings"? When is thanks hard to give? When does thanks feel like a sacrifice we have to rip out of our hands, heads, or hearts to offer to God?
Look for a minute at the verse tucked in between the opening question of this stanza of Psalm 116—"what shall I return to the LORD for all his goodness to me?" (Psalm 116:12)—and the answer we're considering: "I will sacrifice a thank offering to you" (v. 17). Amidst this question-and-answering is what could appear to be a non sequitur ("it doesn't follow) statement: "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants" (v. 15).
Sometimes, thanks rolls off our tongues. Sometimes, it gushes forth out of hearts overflowing with joy. But sometimes, we have to drag it out of the depths of our souls and offer it in voices hoarse with grief or distorted with tears.
Just in the last few weeks, our family has experienced the death of two of God's "faithful servants" in communities we're part of: one in our church community, and one in our college daughter's university community. Both deaths were utterly unexpected and shocking. One was a man in his 70s; the other was a young woman in her 20s. Both were faithful servants of the Lord..."saints" whose deaths were doubtlessly precious to Him.
For the families of these "saints," giving thanks may be a sacrifice for some time to come. And yet they have already been doing it, all along. They have sacrificed thank offerings to God for their loved ones' lives and for God's faithfulness and for joy in sorrow and for hope for eternity.
Perhaps some of you are this very day mourning the death of your own faithful servant. All of us, I believe, have some thanks to offer God that will be a sacrifice to give.
Let's lift up these thank offerings, sweet friends. These sacrifices are an aroma pleasing to God. And then, may we all shout the refrain together: "Praise the LORD."
The psalmist answers his own question several ways: "I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord" (v. 12); "I will fulfill my vows" (v. 14); and in verse 17, "I will sacrifice a thank offering to you."
I've often told my daughters that a sacrifice is something hard to give that costs us something. (I've usually said this on the way to church on grumpy Sunday mornings, in the context of shouting, "Sacrifice of praise! Give a sacrifice of praise!")
If indeed this is true—that a sacrifice requires something from us that is not easy to give and causes us some discomfort—how does that apply to our own "thank offerings"? When is thanks hard to give? When does thanks feel like a sacrifice we have to rip out of our hands, heads, or hearts to offer to God?
Look for a minute at the verse tucked in between the opening question of this stanza of Psalm 116—"what shall I return to the LORD for all his goodness to me?" (Psalm 116:12)—and the answer we're considering: "I will sacrifice a thank offering to you" (v. 17). Amidst this question-and-answering is what could appear to be a non sequitur ("it doesn't follow) statement: "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants" (v. 15).
Sometimes, thanks rolls off our tongues. Sometimes, it gushes forth out of hearts overflowing with joy. But sometimes, we have to drag it out of the depths of our souls and offer it in voices hoarse with grief or distorted with tears.
Just in the last few weeks, our family has experienced the death of two of God's "faithful servants" in communities we're part of: one in our church community, and one in our college daughter's university community. Both deaths were utterly unexpected and shocking. One was a man in his 70s; the other was a young woman in her 20s. Both were faithful servants of the Lord..."saints" whose deaths were doubtlessly precious to Him.
For the families of these "saints," giving thanks may be a sacrifice for some time to come. And yet they have already been doing it, all along. They have sacrificed thank offerings to God for their loved ones' lives and for God's faithfulness and for joy in sorrow and for hope for eternity.
Perhaps some of you are this very day mourning the death of your own faithful servant. All of us, I believe, have some thanks to offer God that will be a sacrifice to give.
Let's lift up these thank offerings, sweet friends. These sacrifices are an aroma pleasing to God. And then, may we all shout the refrain together: "Praise the LORD."
No comments:
Post a Comment
I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to tell me what you really think. Years ago, I explained to my then-two-year-old that my appointment with a counselor was "sort of like going to a doctor who will help me be a better mommy." Without blinking, she replied, "You'd better go every day." All of which is just to say I've spent some time in the school of brutal honesty!