On Giving Thanks (and Wedding Charges)
His habitat was under a roof at home with walls lined with books — a totally indoors guy — but here he was in squishy slop in a cold rain somewhere near Anniston, Alabama, eating a muddy turnip. It was here with his mouth full of cold turnip and mud — that very moment — that Frederick Buechner’s life slowed down, stopped, and began to move in another direction. It all has to do with that word thanks. Of all the stories that have most stuck with me (and there are many) from the pen of this author, speaker, and pastor, it’s this one. Maybe it’s because I in person heard him speak these words before he wrote them — his captivating voice not only ringing with truth but putting you there with him when the thing happened. Buechner says the lurch of his heart at that moment is real to me still — just as his telling it is to me still. In his words (just after describing his gnawing hunger even having just eaten supper from a mess kit):
The infantry training battalion that I had been assigned to was on bivouac. There was a cold drizzle of rain and everything was mud. The sun had gone down. I was still hungry… and noticed that a man nearby had something left over that he was not going to eat. It was a turnip, and when I asked him if I could have it, he tossed it over to me. I missed the catch, the turnip fell to the ground, but I wanted it so badly that I picked it up and starting eating it anyway, mud and all. That’s when Buechner had a life-changing epiphany. He says suddenly time deepened and not only was the turnip good, but the mud was, and the cold drizzle — even the Army that he had been so much dreading was good. Buechner for a moment became consumed with a desire to thank someone or something for it all. The need became so great that for the lack of someone to thank he said he might even have to go out and speak to the birds in the air. That missing someone was the God of all creation — the one who would eventually become the center of his life — the one who up until that turnip hit the mud did not exist for Buechner at all.
For such a common and worn word thanks has an uncommon meaning. True, it presupposes that one has received from another something one values but has not until then possessed. But there’s another meaning if the word is used sincerely — subtle but game-changing. It’s humility — a virtue often in short supply in our world today. In a thanks from the heart, the one thanking — even if just for a second —inwardly bows in humble acknowledgment that the other person is superior in the exchange and so is revered as such: From simple — I just thanked a man holding a door for me — to profound; Buechner in Alabama.
My experience in North Carolina was, in part, similar to Buechner’s in Alabama, in that it brought me to that one word thanks. And it also took place in the great outdoors — the forest acres of a camp near Asheville. God was there and I, like Buechner, had just gained a new perspective that makes the moment still real to me. But there was no rain or mud, and the sun wasn’t setting. In fact, it was a beautiful Sunday morning. Norm Robbins, a youth leader, had just asked us young people (maybe 150 of us) to break-out, find a solitary spot in the woods, reflect on the weekend’s messages, then make a prayer of one word — Thanks.
Robbins’ talks had clarified what I had probably heard in church but never understood — that no matter how hard we try we can’t get any closer to pleasing God than an apple tree can produce pears. We need an overhaul, big time. Jesus came to empower us and to set our record straight with God. But not until we admit our weakness, bow before him in humble contrition and receive Christ into our heart simply by saying thanks. I was thoughtful when I vacated my spot in the woods, yet not praying that word that had suddenly become weighty — thanks. Later at home by the side of my bed I did, and my life has never been the same since. The official word for the Lord’s Supper — that rite by which we remember the cross of Christ and the cost of his gift to us — is the word Eucharist. It’s means Thanks! — exclamation mark included. Each time I eat the bread and drink the cup my Thanks! echoes from that very first thanks by the side of my bed.
Whenever there’s an ordination or pronouncement within the church there’s generally a charge given along with it. The charge I always use after pronouncing a couple husband and wife is Colossians 3:17: Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. It’s because of that word thanks that I do it. I want the couple to remember there is someone to thank for this awesome gift that has just been given them, and one who will enter their marriage if they will in humble contrition receive him and daily acknowledge him in their hearts with an attitude of gratitude.