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Psalm 136, as rendered by Nan C. Merrill
Romans 8:31, 35, 37-39

        We’ve talked before about gratitude as a spiritual practice. We’ve talked about the daily spiritual discipline of writing down or speaking aloud three to five specific things you are grateful for, either in the morning or at the end of the day.

        This morning, as we approach Thanksgiving, I want to invite us to explore three spiritual practices that I think will bless us even more richly than a simple gratitude practice does, even as they are likely to leave us feeling more grateful than ever.

        Last week, in keeping with the faith expressed in the Letter to the Ephesians, we sang that God is able to accomplish far more than anything we can ask or imagine.

        If that is true, why would we settle for less? Why would we be content with only those things that we can imagine? Why would we not consider the spiritual practices that have sustained God’s people for thousands and thousands of years?

        I’m speaking specifically of the spiritual practices of remembering, grounding, and trusting. This morning, I invite us to consider adopting these practices—not only as befitting the Thanksgiving holiday but also as a foundation for abundant and joyful life.

        First, I recommend the spiritual practice of remembering. If you’re anything like me, and if we’re anything like the first Christians or the ancient Hebrews, when life gets tough or uncertain and we’re not sure what’s going to happen, how we will make it through, or if we will make it through, we tend to develop a kind of amnesia. It’s as if we’ve never been through tough times before, as if we’ve never known God’s deliverance and grace, as if everything is up to us.

        It seems to me that this is why long chapters, psalms, letters, and almost entire books of the Bible are devoted to the practice of remembering. And when I say remembering, I’m talking specifics. I chose the version of Psalm 136 we heard a few moments ago for its universal examples—experiences like repentance and rebirth, liberation, peace and comfort us in times of sorrow and loneliness, forgiveness, care for the poor, and light in the darkness.

        But the template for Nan Merrill’s rendering, and an excellent template for the spiritual practice of remembering, is the more traditional translation of the psalm. Because the original blessings and graces remembered are specific to the ancient Hebrew people and, therefore, perhaps less resonant for us, I chose the beauty of Nan Merrill’s version. But listen to some excerpts from the New Revised Standard Version:

        O give thanks to God, who brought Israel out from Egypt; who divided the Red Sea in two, and made Israel pass through the midst of it; who led God’s people through the wilderness; who rescued us from our foes.

        Beloveds, this is not simply a psalm of praise; it is also an exercise in remembering. We see this throughout the psalms and the prophets; we see it in the roll call of heroes of the faith in the New Testament’s Letter to the Hebrews; and we see it in Jesus’ gentle admonitions of his disciples when they seem to have forgotten the wonders they had seen Jesus perform just hours earlier and are scared to death all over again.

        Remembering can calm our anxious hearts. Remembering what God has already done can center us in the blessing of this moment and give us hope for the future. Remembering can open our hearts to praise and wonder.

        And so for this Thanksgiving, I invite you to try a remembering exercise. Perhaps you already have a Thanksgiving tradition of going around the dinner table and having each person name one thing they are grateful for. That’s wonderful, and . . . I challenge you to go further: to set aside some time to be alone with your thoughts and memories, and to make a written list of some of the things that you have experienced in the past year (or as far back as you want to go), both good and bad.

        First, just make the list—maybe as a column on one side of a piece of paper—remembering all the significant moments that you can.

        Then, after you’ve made the list, go back and reflect on each experience or event. Where was God in that experience? How did you—or did you—sense God’s presence with you? Where was the grace? Where and how did you encounter love, growth, healing, community, or hope? Note the ways in which you came through it and how it changed you.

        Then, after you have remembered, and after you have reflected, if you can do so authentically, give thanks. Write down—maybe in another column or somewhere alongside the memory itself—your expression of praise. It may be one from the psalm—something like “God’s love is everlasting,” or “God’s steadfast love is forever,” or “God’s love sustains me”—or something much more simple, such as “Thank you, God," or "God is good.”

        When you have completed this exercise, notice how you feel.

        And then, the next time you’re feeling anxious about something or afraid of what the future will bring, remember how God has been with you in the past.

        It’s unlikely that the spiritual practice of remembering God’s faithfulness will alter the circumstances of your life, the world, or specific challenges you are facing. But it may well change how you feel about them. It might make you more aware of the thread of God’s grace in your life, and that might give you the hope and strength you need to carry on. And it will probably leave you feeling more thankful, and we all know that gratitude brings physical, as well as spiritual and emotional, benefits.

        Second, I invite you to consider a spiritual practice of grounding. Like the practice of remembering, this practice can have some elements that work for everyone. You may, in fact, discover that the practice of remembering is grounding for you. But it’s likely that there will be some elements of a grounding practice that are unique to you, and a grounding practice may include—but need not be limited to—other spiritual practices.

        You may find, for example, that a regular prayer time is grounding for you. Reading the Bible or other spiritual texts may help you step out of chaos and uncertainty and ground yourself in God’s goodness. Or maybe you find grounding in Sunday worship, regular meditation, Communion, deep breathing, playing or listening to heart-opening music, or being disciplined about taking sabbath time in which you stop working or turn off devices.

        The most important thing about a spiritual practice of grounding is not so much what you do to root yourself in God’s steadfast love and goodness, but that you do it with intention and awareness. It can be helpful to approach your preferred activity or practice with a simple prayer, such as, “May this ground me in your love,” or “may this relieve me of worry and fill me with your peace.”

        Finally, when we have practiced remembering God’s love and faithfulness, and when have grounded ourselves in God’s goodness and grace, I believe our hearts will be opened to the spiritual practice of trusting. Many of us may think of trust as something we either have or we don’t. I get that. But I also think trust is a choice and a discipline, and I’m beginning to think that trust can also be like a muscle—something we need to exercise in order to develop and maintain it—as well as a gift, something to receive with open hearts and minds.

        There is also the question of what or whom we trust. Do we put greater trust in the everlasting love of God, for example, or financial security? Do we trust that a spark of God dwells within all beings, or do our actions and attitudes belie a trust the all-too-real evidence of human hatred and greed? Do we put our trust in the policies of one political leader or party over another, or in the constancy of God’s love and presence? Do we put our trust in military might or in the power of love and community?

        This is not to deny the realities of racism, division, the climate crisis, gun violence, or our own personal difficulties; nor is it to surrender to apathy or despair. When members of the first church in ancient Rome faced persecution, imprisonment, torture, and even death for following the ways of Jesus, the apostle Paul’s word to them was clear:

        If God is for us, who is against us? Who will separate us from the love of Christ? I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor power, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

        Perhaps the spiritual practice of trusting will, by God’s grace, convince us of these things as well. Perhaps the spiritual practices of remembering and grounding will, by God’s grace, give us hearts and eyes to see and know that God’s love is everlasting, that God’s steadfast love sustains us and endures forever.

        May it be so, so that on Thanksgiving Day and every day we are able to say, “Thanks be to God!”