Thanksgiving

Christians frequently bemoan the way Christmas is celebrated without Christ.  In the USA a similar issue exists with Thanksgiving, the great family, national holiday that occurs today.  

Year on year I go to school assemblies during our harvest period, mostly in October (the same month as originally celebrated in America).  It is a matter of wonder to me that you can have a fully-fledged all-school harvest without mentioning God once.  Or singing anything to him.  The trick is to call it a Festival, not a Thanksgiving.

When the Pilgrims celebrated their first harvest 'safely gathered in' in October 1621 they knew exactly what they were doing - they were giving thanks to Almighty God and his providential care.  Not only so, but it formed part of a pattern in which they had already held days of thanksgiving for other deliverances along the way.

Ah, we may think, those were very devout religious people and times have changed.  Awkwardly, for this view, there were nearly double as many Indians - native Americans - at the first thanksgiving as European settlers.

You do not have to be very devout to recognise that a greater Providence has laid out kindnesses that seem scarcely deserved in this world.  If humanity is all there is there is nobody to thank, no reason to be grateful and the world loses a whole vertical dimension as it dissolves into the shallowness of human experience alone.

Sowing and Reaping (Psalm 126)

Today at out Harvest Thanksgiving we considered one of the great Psalms - 126.

5  Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.

6  He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.

Here's what C H Spurgeon had to say about it 150 years ago:

Heralds of the cross have to do a deal of rough work and toil on. For the Gospel, which ought to be welcomed, is rejected. And as there was no room for Christ in the inn when He became incarnate, so there is no room for the Gospel in the hearts of mankind. Yes, and this makes us weep, since where there should be so much readiness to accept, there is so much obstinacy and rebellion. The Christian worker weeps because, when he does see some signs of success, he is often disappointed. Blossoms come not to be fruit, or fruit half-ripe drops from the tree. He has to weep before God oftentimes, because he is afraid that these failures may be the result of his own lack of tact, or want of grace. I marvel not that the minister weeps, or that any worker for Christ bedews the seed with his tears—the wonder is he does not lament far more than he does. Perhaps we should all weep more if we were more Christ-like, more what we should be.

Christ, the model of the Christian life, assures you of this. He went forth weeping, sowing drops of bloody sweat, sowing with pierced hands and feet that dropped with blood. He went forth sowing living seeds of love, and they are springing up today already in the glory and in the multitudes that are gathered into it. And soon, in the coming and the superior splendour that shall envelop it, the Christ who sowed in tears will reap in joy. Even thus it must be with you. And if this is not enough to comfort you, remember those who have gone before you in this service, who have proved this fact. Think of those you have known, who have not been unsuccessful. When, with hearts broken and bruised, they have spent their life-power in their Lord’s work. Remember Judson and the thousands that this day sing of the Saviour whom he first taught to them. Think of Moffat, in his old age still in the villages of the mission field, not without glorious seals to his ministry. Think of Jamaica, of the wonders and trophies of grace in the South Sea Islands, the multitudes that were turned to Christ during revival seasons in our own land, and in the United States, and you have proof that those that know how to weep and sow, and who go forth from God to the sowing, shall, beyond a doubt, come again rejoicing with their sheaves. 

Perish the thought

We thought about many things at our Harvest Thanksgiving on Sunday.  One thing we thought about was perishability.  How long would anything last that was on display?

 

 

 



Typically, the Star of the Show - homemade bread without preservatives - though much admired was deemed to be the first to go in the perishability stakes.  So we ate it for harvest Lunch, which was very nice.  It seems that so many wonderful things just don't have the legs to last (or in the case of food items get legs and for that reason don't last . . .).

What, though, would last the longest?  "Canned stuff", was the general answer. The question was spontaneous, so I am quite proud (sorry) that I may have even got the answer right as I looked at the display and made my own guess - Bisto.  The combination of being sealed and dried and salty makes it almost everlasting - certainly half a lifetime.  Not much fun compared to homemade bread though.

What I was really looking for, though, (and it wasn't there) was honey.  Honey lasts for a very long time too and is great to eat as well!

 

Then there is the honey for your soul:

 

My son, eat honey, for it is good, and the drippings of the honeycomb are sweet to your taste. Know that wisdom is such to your soul; if you find it, there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off.

Harvest

Of all the special days, even including Christmas an Easter, there are none that have more messages for the soul than harvest thanksgiving. This is what Victorian preacher Charles Haddon Spurgeon once said of it - and he was in the middle of the world's largest city at the time;

'If you have an opportunity to journey into the country during the next three weeks, you will, if your heart is rightly attuned, find a marvellous mass of wisdom couched in a cornfield. Why I could not attempt for a moment to open the mighty mines of gabled treasure which are hidden there.

Think, beloved, of the joy of harvest. How does it tell us of the joy of the redeemed if we, being saved, shall at last be carried like shocks of corn fully ripe into the garner!

Look at the ear of corn when it is fully ripe, and see how it bends toward the earth! It held its head erect before, but in getting ripe how humble does it become! And how does God speak to the sinner and tell him, that if he would be fit for the great harvest he must drop his head and cry, "Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner."

And when we see the weeds spring up amongst wheat, do we not recall our Master's parable over again of the tares among the wheat; and are we not reminded of the great day of division, when he shall say to the reaper, "Gather first the tares and bind them in bundles, to burn them; but gather the wheat into my barn."

O yellow field of corn, you preach well to me, the minister, "Behold, the fields are ripe already to the harvest." Work yourself; and pray you the Lord of the harvest to send forth more labourers into the harvest."

And it preaches well to you, O man of years, for it tells you that the sickle of death is sharp, and that you must soon fall. But it cheers and comforts you, for it tells that the wheat shall be safely housed, and it bids thee hope that you will be carried to your Master's garner to be his joy and his delight for ever. Hark, then, to the rustling eloquence of the yellow harvest.'

Harvest Immortality

"Are you setting them out geographically?" my friend asked, looking at the swathe of harvest boxes in our sanctuary prepared for distribution following our Harvest Thanksgiving on Sunday.

I replied, "Just now we're still working on separating between each side of the River Jordan . . .". 

In case that's lost on anyone Jordan is a metaphor for life's final journey, as in

When I tread the verge of Jordan bid my anxious fears subside,

Death of death and Hell's destruction land me safe on Canaan's [i.e. the Promised Land's] side.

People have gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure they live on beyond their earthly passing and the internet offers new ways of continuing when you've ceased to exist.  However I believe one very good way to attain earthly immortality is by getting your name on a Church Harvest Distribution List.

Scarcely ever have I sat on the Monday after a Harvest without dissecting a list of names between the living and the dead and for all my efforts this year we still managed to attempt a delivery to someone who had passed away in the summer.

Only the Lord can save your immortal soul.  But to save your name on earth?  Hey, just get on a Church Harvest List and your name will live on when you've gone.  In fact, some goodhearted soul will even pack you some food or flowers and come looking for you.  Tesco's may not deliver food to me after I'm dead but if I can just get on that Harvest list . . . .

Harvest-time Prayer