Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks to the Holy One
Give thanks because He’s given
Jesus Christ, His Son. [1]
Don Moen singing the chorus of Henry Smith’s “Give Thanks” fills my ears as I take advantage of a warm October day to be outdoors. Autumn is closing her doors to winter one day at a time in Virginia. The once-colorful leaves gracefully peppering the lawn are now faded, crinkling like the brown paper they resemble, in a crunchy rhythm, as our hens forage for juicy insect bites during their afternoon recess. Oh, how grateful I am for my almost five years on the farm, for our friends’ generous offer to loan us this place, and the grace of God that has worked restoration and healing in us here.
We will never forget this thirty-five-acre farm, with the hard work, nourishment, and beauty we’ve found here. As I write even now, our new red Hereford cow, Kathern, is sonorously mooing for treats while T-Bone, her new male calf, is youthfully prancing about the pasture from one end to the other, like a three-year-old anticipating opened gifts.
To say “thank you” for this opportunity is insufficient. We are marked for life.
Our season here is waning. We know this is our last winter farming, and we choose to savor each morning that Tom, our proprietorial lone rooster, alerts his hens by bellowing his greetings to the new day. We relish each evening as we watch the sun slip behind faded oaks, each meal we eat, and each roaring fire.
I reflect on our multiple cross-country moves since Mark and I married twenty-seven years ago, on every answered prayer, and on countless moments of grace in pain and beauty. My hope is renewed. Whether this is my last year on the farm, my last day, or even my last hour, I know that “the steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord” (Psalm 37.23 NKJV). I am at peace. I recall. I remember. I renew. I cherish. I choose thanks with the grateful heart that Don sings about.
I was raised to say “please” and “thank you” out of common courtesy, but both can be uttered without gratitude. Situations that once deeply moved us toward gratitude fade, and we lose perspective and my gratitude wanes.
We have to be intentional to maintain a grateful heart. I daily cultivate gratitude in my heart as I would tend my garden, with attentive care—fertilizing, watering, and pruning as needed. I nurture by expressing thanksgiving and gratitude for the faintest whispers of grace.
When I live with gratitude, I don’t live with a victim mentality; I am less likely to be offended. Every breath is a gift.
Each opened door, each handshake, each high-five is an opportunity to cherish life. His mercies are new every day. Great is His faithfulness. Gratitude is watered as I build myself up in the Lord by recounting His promises, His goodness, and His grace. My thanksgiving can blossom into gratitude when I allow it to penetrate the core of who I am.
As I was writing this essay, a friend called me from out of town, and we recalled time after time where God had intervened and miraculously orchestrated events in our lives. By the end of our phone call, we had both strengthened each other’s faith. I felt a fresh renewal in areas of discouragement.
I am reminded that if God works all things for my good and His glory, I can be grateful even for the pain, the loss, the disappointments, and the wounds. It’s hard to say “Thank you, Jesus,” for the car accident last year that brought pain and debt, but I can express gratitude by faith, truly believing that God will supernaturally give grace and will work good from the mess to fertilize my faith (Romans 8.28). Looking back, I can see it truly was a miracle. I passed out driving back from my morning fitness routine, wrecked my car, and fractured my wrist, but no one else was involved or injured. My friend praised God for bringing her through abusive marriages without bitterness, but with gratefulness for God’s protection and guidance. King David declared, “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember Your wonders of old. I will ponder all Your work, and meditate on Your mighty deeds” (Psalm 77.11–12 ESV). We were encouraged by remembering.
Near-death experiences, like my car accident, can renew gratitude for life. Like the song says, “Give thanks because He’s given Jesus Christ.” Salvation alone is reason enough to allow gratitude to shape me forever. I was dead in my trespasses. My righteousness was filthy rags. Nothing I could do would ever be good enough to make me worthy of salvation.
When I recognize how dead I was in the flesh before Christ, it truly becomes a near-death experience. I don’t ever want to take it for granted.
Yes, Christ died for the sin of the whole world, but He specifically died for “my” sin. Thank you, Jesus, for giving me your great salvation. Once I was lost, but now I am found.
I exhort myself in the Lord as King David did: “Bless the Lord, O my soul” (Psalm 103.22 NKJV). I remember! How can I not give thanks when I consider salvation, provision, direction, inspiration, healing, and the mesmerizing created order all around us. Gratitude penetrates and shapes.
Again, I sing,
Give thanks with a grateful heart.
Give thanks to the holy one.
Give thanks, because He has given
Jesus Christ His Son.
And now let the weak say, “I am strong”
Let the poor say, “I am rich”
Because of what the Lord has done for us.
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4.13 NKJV). My heart, my courage, and my thankfulness are all built up as I recall. My heart sings with Don!
[1] “Give Thanks” was written by Henry Smith in 1978 and made mainstream when Don Moen sang it in 1986. You can listen to Don’s rendition here.
The featured image, “Still Silhouette and Bell in Snow,” is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and used with her glad permission for Cultivating.
Mary has cherished life-long literary dreams coupled with a passion for ministry, all of which lead her to study English literature and later theology and counseling in seminary. She has been designing artisan jewelry for 15 years. After 14 years of ministry in San Diego she and her husband Mark Miller, along with their teenagers and cat, Lord Peter Wimsey relocated to Charlottesville, VA where they enjoy farm life, raising angus beef, 40+ chickens and a thriving garden. Mary enjoys off-the-wall humor, gardening, cooking, and curling up with anything penned by Dorothy Sayers, C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, or Jane Austen. She and her husband Mark serve in ministry with RiverStone Church.
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