SERMON FOR THANKSGIVING DAY, 2006
First Fruits
Deut. 8:1-3, 6-10 James 1:17-18-21-27 Matthew 6:25-33
Thanksgiving — I imagine for most of us the word itself conjures up memories and associations. “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go . . .” Cornucopias overflowing with colorful gourds, plump grapes, and ears of corn. The tantalizing aroma of roast turkey and savory dressing. The comforting taste of warm pumpkin pie.
The traditional Thanksgiving feast serves as a symbol that the harvest is complete. That the time has come to gather as families and friends to count our many blessings and to give thanks to God.
In agrarian societies, people know firsthand that the harvest is bought at great personal cost and provides vital insurance against starvation. For them, the harvest is a result of backbreaking toil and nature's cooperation. They understand, as the psalmist tells us today, that it is God who crowns the year with goodness, covers the meadows with flocks, and cloaks the valleys with grain. [Ps. 65]
For those of us living in an urbanized culture, the disconnect between grower and consumer is vast. The only harvest some know comes in a can or a package of frozen food.
As a child, I was a city girl through and through. My first experience with the true meaning of harvest came only when I dated and ultimately married a young man who grew up on a farm. Until then, I was ignorant of the fact that farming is so very daily.
Eggs to gather, cattle to feed, fields to sow, weeds and pests to eradicate, hay to bale, cows to milk, gardens to water, snow to plow, horses to shoe, grain to store — and that's only a partial list. In time, I came to appreciate that all of those activities were carried out not only on mild spring days but in broiling summer sun and winter's icy sleet.
In my ignorance of all things agricultural, I had certainly never considered the enormous risks of farming: falling grain and livestock prices, disease, drought, flood, the devastation wrought to crops by violent winds and damaging hail. Not to mention mismanagement and the effect of government controls.
It is little wonder that up until my introduction to farming, I had taken the concept of harvest for granted. Thanksgiving simply meant no school and hopefully a pleasant family meal of the Norman Rockwell variety. But it did not include a genuine understanding of the monumental achievement of man working in partnership with God and nature to assure our very survival.
Despite the many obstacles and setbacks, a farmer takes well-deserved satisfaction from his harvest. In the same way, Thanksgiving offers us an opportunity to reflect with gratitude on the spiritual growth that has taken place in us, even in the midst of life's challenges.
Consider today's reading from James: “[God] . . . gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of His creatures.” [James 1:18]
A pretty amazing thought. We — each and every one of us — are first fruits — in essence, we are God's harvest. As James goes on to say, God has implanted in us the power to save our souls. [James 1:21] Similar to the chores on s farm, our growth in Christ is daily, nourished in Scripture and prayer and watered by grace.
But spiritual growth, like farming, can also be a risky business. In our own lives, we, too, experience winds and storms as we are challenged by a society seemingly out of control, as we drown in our own misery or dry up in the desert places of the soul, and as we bend, or even break, under the onslaught of troubles and burdens. Yet, through it all, we are tended by a loving God who sees in us the first fruits of His creatures.
As Matthew tells us, that same God nurtures us and bids us not to worry, but to trust Him. “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you — you of little faith?” [Matt. 6:28b-30]
Although this message from Matthew’s Gospel reading is comforting, it is not a rationale for doing nothing. In complacency lies danger. A farmer cannot sit idly by and casually wait for his crops to flourish; neither can we grow spiritually without an exercise of effort and will. James reminds of that quite directly: “Be doers of the word and not merely hearers.” [James 1:22]
As a farmer must cultivate his weed-infested, rocky fields, so we, too, according to James, are to rid ourselves “ . . . of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save [our] souls.” [James 1:21]
Matthew underscores our responsibility. We are to “strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness.” Only as we turn to God and live out his message in the world, will we reap the reward. As He promises, “. . . all these things [food, drink, clothing, whatever] will be given to you as well.” [Matt. 6:33]
On this holiday, we offer prayers of thanksgiving for, among other things, our family, friends, health, meaningful work to do, the beauty of God's creation, our country, the abundance of our material gifts–and the list goes on.
Yet if we are, indeed, “the first fruits of His creatures,” we might look at our own lives in that context and give thanks for the rich soil in which God has planted us and the good growth that has resulted from our varied life experiences and from God's grace.
By no means are we finished creations, but the same God who feeds the birds and adorns the lilies of the field lives in and cares for each one of us. We are His creation. We are His harvest.
Earlier we sang a fitting prayer from Hymn 290: “Grant, O harvest Lord, that we wholesome grain and pure may be.”
AMEN
Laura Shoffner
November 23, 2006
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