Homily
Thanksgiving Sunday

"Why Me, Lord? Why Me?"

"Just as surely as sparks fly upward from a fire, so human
beings will face troubles," that's what Job's friend tells him (Job 5:7)

Who can dispute that? We know it's true. Some of us know it
better than others, for some people have troubles flying up like
sparks not from some tiny fire but more like a bon fire!

Whether we like it or not, whether we understand it or not,
part of what it means to be human is to face troubles, suffering,
problems. Know anyone who doesn't?

These are the, "Why me, Lord?" times. A trouble comes along
or some disruptive event and we find ourselves asking, "Why me?"

We look at others and think they're not nearly so plagued
with burdens as we are...

"Some people get all the breaks."

Sometimes we may even begin to think we are programmed for
misfortune...

"Well, wouldn't you know this would happen to me?"

"If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all."

"Why me, Lord? Why me?"

My friends, I want us to consider something a little different this
Thanksgiving Sunday.

If we're going to ask, "Why me, Lord?" about our burdens,
then should we not also ask, "Why me, Lord?" about our blessings?

Okay. Some undeserved hardship comes our way and we complain.
Fine. "Why me, Lord?" Should we not also rejoice when some
undeserved blessing comes our way? "Why me, Lord? What have I
done to deserve that?"

But that's not easy to do, is it? It's much easier to complain, to
gripe
about all the things that go wrong instead of giving thanks for all the
things that go right.

We take for granted one-hundred days of perfect health and
then grumble about one day of aches and pains.

We return home safely from dozens of trips without a song of
gratitude, but on the one occasion when we encounter delays
and disappointments, we cry out in despair.

John Witherspoon was President of Princeton University and
signer of the Declaration of Independence. He lived at a place
called "Rocky Hill" some distance from Princeton. Witherspoon'
study door was opened suddenly one day. A neighbor rushed in and
told how he was riding in his buggy from Rocky Hill when the
horse had bolted, the buggy was smashed, but he escaped serious
injury. The man asked Witherspoon to give thanks with him for
this providential escape from death. Witherspoon replied, "I can
tell you a far more remarkable providence than that. I have
driven over that very same road hundreds of times. My horse never
ran away, my buggy never was smashed, I was never hurt."

Why is that we so seldom cry out, "Why me, Lord?" about
our blessings?

Where is our appreciation for the commonplace, everyday
blessings which God has so abundantly poured into our lives?

The Psalmist had to remind himself, "...forget not all God's
benefits..." he said to himself, and then goes on to list them. I
dre any of us to do that, to count our blessings and then not
find ourselves saying, "Why me, Lord? Why do you bless me so?"

Gilbert Chesterton, the great English writer (1874-1936),
once wrote:

"You say grace before meals. All right. And I say grace
before the concert and the opera, and grace before the
play...and grace before I open a book, and grace before
sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing,
walking, swimming, dancing, and grace before I dip the
pen in the ink..."

Chesterton had learned something every one of us needs - to
be thankful for every day blessings, to open our eyes to the
numberless undeserved blessings that surround us all the time.

I have the feeling that if we could cultivate this sense of,
"Why me, Lord? about our blessings, it would enable us to better
face and cope with our troubles.

I visited a woman once in the hospital. She said to me, "You
know, I have never been in the hospital in my life. In fact, I
have never been seriously ill. I have competent doctors and nurses
to care for me. Why should I complain now, knowing how much I've
had for which to be grateful?"

Here's a woman who had learned to say, "Why me, Lord?" about
her blessings and it put her troubles in a whole new light.

I got to thinking about all of this one night this week. I had heard on
the radio sometime that day an old Kris Kristofferson. It was a song
popular a number of years ago. Perhaps you remember the words:

"Why me, Lord? What have I ever done,
to deserve even one, of the blessings I've know?
Tell me, Lord, what did I ever do,
that was worth loving you and the kindness you've shown?"

Humming that tone, I walked outside into a snowy night. The
ground was dazzling white. Michael and Meredith were sledding
down the hill having a ball. We had a roaring fire going in the
fireplace and I was going to get more wood, and to spend some
time with the kids, who soon bombed me with snowballs. We ended
up rolling around in the snow. I got the wood and just stood on
the front porch for awhile,

listening to my children,

watching the snow flakes drift by,

I could see my wife through the front window sitting in a chair
reading,

and all around me was the sheer beauty of this wondrous
place,

and to all of this I thought of you,

and I found myself praying, "Why me, Lord? Why me?"

Is there someone who will stand up this Thanksgiving Sunday
and say, "Why me, Lord?" about some undeserved blessings God's
given you? Tell us about one of God's undeserved blessings to
you. (Give them time to share if you have time)

A little something for Thanksgiving...

I Have...
By Bass Mitchell

I have eaten,
I have slept;
I have loved,
I have wept.

I have walked,
I have run;
in moonlight,
and in sun.

I have sired,
I have sown;
I have reaped,
I have grown.

I have soiled,
I have bathed;
I have whispered,
I have raved.

I have written,
I have read;
I have listened,
I have said.

I have gained,
I have lost;
I have given,
I have cost.

I have seen,
I have heard;
daily fed,
upon the Word.

I have planned,
I have thought;
I have worked,
I have taught.

So...

When I die,
go to rest;
no com-plaint,
I've been blest.

Greater still,
the Risen Son,
our life's journey,
just begun.

By Bass Mitchell