154 Sermon Illustrations on Gratitude

Riches can be a handicap. A wealthy woman told her doctor she was frustrated by a restless desire for more and more things. He replied, "These are the usual symptoms of too much ease in the home and too little gratitude in the heart." The Gospel According to the Little Red Hen Remember the story of the Little Red Hen? Here is a church equivalent! Once upon a time there was a church. One day the Lord found a lost and dying world, enslaved in sin and destined for hell. "Who will share the gospel with those who know not the way of life eternal?" said He. "Not I," said the elder. "Not I," said the deacon. "Not I," said the Sunday School worker. "Not I," said the choir member. "Not I," said the member. "Very well, then," said the Lord. "I will find someone else." And He did! After some time the gospel seed sprouted and grew. "Who will teach these young in faith the way of righteousness and truth?" asked the Lord. "Not I," said the elder. "I have other things to do." "Not I," said the deacon. "That is not my job." "Not I," said the choir member. "I do not like the deacon." "Not I," said the member. "Let the Sunday school worker do it." "Very well, then," said the Lord. "I will find someone else to teach my Word." And He did! "Now," said the Lord, "the church has children and teenagers. Who will shepherd and direct them in My ways?" "Not I," said the elder. "That is not my job." "Not I," said the deacon. "I do not like the choir member." "Not I," said the Sunday school worker. "I have other things to do." "Very well, then," said the Lord. "I will find another." And He did! Again the Lord said, "The meeting house needs some work. Who will help clean it, mend its roof, paint its walls so that it may bring honor to my name and joy to those who gather there?" "Not I," said the deacon. "I have other things to do." "Not I," said the Sunday School worker. "That is not my job." "Not I," said the member. "Let the deacon do it." "Very well," said the Lord. "I will find someone else." And He did! Later the Lord said, "Some of my children are in need. Who will share what is theirs so that others may have?" "Not I," said the elder. "Let the deacon do it." "Not I," said the deacon. "Let the Sunday school worker do it." "Not I," said the Sunday school worker. "Let the choir member do it." "Not I," said the choir member. "Let the member do it." "Not I," said the member. "Let the elder do it." "Very well, then," said the Lord. "I will find someone else." And He did! Eventually, after the gospel was preached, the weak taught, the young guided, the meeting house repaired, and those in need helped, the Lord said, "Who will share in the joys of Christian service? Who will come taste the blessings of faithfulness? Who will know the fruit of spiritual growth?" "I will!" said the elder. "I will!" said the deacon. "I will!" said the Sunday school worker. "I will!" said the choir member. "I will!" said the member. "No, you will not," replied the Lord. "My rewards will go to those who do My will, not their own." The Snail in the Lobster Shell A little snail that lived by the ocean noticed with envy the big and beautiful shell in which the lobster lived. "Oh! How this little shell of mine pinches," whined the little snail. "What a grand palace the lobster carries on his back! I wish I lived in his place. Oh! Wouldn't my friends admire me in that shell! Think of a snail living in a mansion like that!" In time a wonderful thing occurred. The watching, envious snail beheld the lobster work right out of his shell to grow up in another, larger one. When the empty, metallic green shell of the lobster lay neglected on the beach, the snail said, "Now I shall have my wish. Hurrah! The little snail is going to live in a lobster shell!" In his pride he cried out to the birds overhead, "Ah, the little snail is going to live in a lobster shell." He cried to the cattle in the field, "Oh, oh! Now you shall see. The little snail is going to live in a palace." So the birds and the cattle in the field were curious and they watched the little snail. The snail pulled himself loose from his own little shell, and cried, "Well, I'm glad to say I'm through with you. Goodbye. You've pinched me and pressed me for the last time. I am going to live in the grand lobster shell." The birds and the animals saw the little snail proudly crawl into the towering lobster shell and he huffed and puffed and blew and gasped in an effort to make himself fit. But with all his efforts he felt very small inside the grand lobster shell. He grew tired, too. That night he died because the great empty shell was so cold. A wise old crow then said, "You see! That's what comes of envy. What you have is enough. Be yourself and save yourself from a lot of trouble. How much better to be a little snail in a comfortable shell than to be a little snail in a big shell and freeze to death!" The First and Hardest Lesson "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," says Robert Fulgham's popular essay and book. In truth, one of life's most important and hardest lessons comes to us long before kindergarten. This lesson is painful and upsetting to learn, and it goes against what we want to think is true. But it is vital that we learn it. Many people never do. The lesson is this: you are not the center of your universe. You might as well face it. Once, a long time ago, Nicolaus Copernicus studied the sky and declared, "If man is to know the truth, he must change his thinking! Despite what we have said for years, our earth is not the center of the cosmos-but just one celestial body among many. The sun does not move around us; we move around the sun." That was a radical adjustment-a revolution in thought. Years later, Jean Piaget studied children and declared, "Each child must experience his or her own 'Copernican revolution.'They must learn that they are not the center of their world." This is a private, radical adjustment for every one. "After all," each infant thinks, "My wants have always been met. Let life continue that way!" "Walls should move out of the way before I run into them. The floor should become soft just as I fall. Everyone should give me their toys if I want them. The rules of games should change so I can always win. And big things like cars should never drive where I might want to run or play." Sooner or later, life does not cooperate and the child is shocked. What about us adults? Have we learned the lesson? Most of us learn it. But Satan urges us to put ourselves back in the center. And we often do, even when we know better. Jesus Christ studied His audience and declared, "If you want to enter the kingdom of heaven, you must change your thinking! Despite what your sinful nature tells you, you are not the center of your world. To find life, you must know the truth. Accommodate yourself to that; it will set you free!" That is the most radical adjustment of all. A hard lesson. The illusion is easier. It justifies selfishness. And we all like being selfish. Too bad that the selfish way is not true. Too bad that it does not bring satisfaction or life. A hard lesson. But an important one. Life goes much better once you have got it.

A gentleman of wealth, but a stranger to a personal knowledge of God, was walking alone through his grounds one evening. Coming to the small hut of a poor man who earned his family's bread by his daily labor, he heard the continuous sound of loud speaking. Curiosity prompted him to stop and listen. The man of the house happened to be at prayer with his family. As soon as the gentleman could distinguish the words, he heard him give thanks to God for the goodness of His providence in giving them food to eat and clothes to put on, and in supplying them with what was necessary and comfortable in the present life. He was immediately struck with astonishment and confusion, and said to himself, "Does this poor man who has nothing but the meanest fare, and that purchased by hard work, give thanks to God for His goodness to himself and family, while I, who enjoy ease and honor, and everything that is pleasant and desirable, have hardly ever bent my knee or made any acknowledgement to my Maker and Preserver?" This incident was the means used by God to bring this rich man to a realization of his lack of what makes a person really blessed. It was not long before he accepted the Lord Jesus Christ, whose blessing is evidence in both poverty and riches.

"As a snail leaveth a frothy slime upon the fairest flowers, so do unthankful persons leave their own slime upon the rich mercies of God vouchsafed to them." Pining for things denied them, they undervalue favours bestowed upon them. Like Israel in the wilderness, if they cannot have flesh to feed their lusts they call even angels' food "light bread." By feasting to the full, and wasting their substance in luxury, many persons do

more mischief with the bounties of providence than slugs and snails can do among the plants in a garden. Yet, when their festivals are over, or even while their wine is yet on the board, they grumble and murmur as if they were more hardly done by than any other men upon the face of the earth: thus a second time they besmear God's goodness by their thankless conduct. They abuse the gift and then abuse the Giver. They climb the wall, and spurn the ladder by which they climbed; they drink, and then defile the spring; they rise upward to the sky, and then, like clouds, obscure the heavens. My God, grant that I may never abuse thy gifts, nor even dare to use them without gratefully praising thee for them. Moses warned the Jews that the lizard, the snail, and the mole are unclean, and I would not be like to any one of them. David said concerning the wicked, "As a snail which melteth, let every one of them pass away." God forbid that I should come under that curse, and so pour out my life in complaining, leaving behind me a trail of repining wherever I may move.

A great failure was caused by a neglect to pay little debts. A careful business-man declared that he ought to fail who should be guilty of such folly, and added, that he did not owe a single debt. A friend said, "You mistake: I know a debt that you owe. I know of One who lent you the fine house you live in, the money you have in the bank, all the riches by which you are surrounded, and call them your own. More than this, He gave you health and friends. How much have you ever paid Him?"—"Ah! that is a different thing. I don't think much about such things; but I always pay every cent I owe my fellow-men."—"You are like the merchant who pays all his little debts, and lets the great ones go, and then boasts, 'I always pay my debts.' My friend, the great debt of gratitude is yet unpaid. Take care lest the Master cast thee into prison; and thou 'shalt not come from thence till thou hast paid the uttermost fathing.'"

GRATITUDE, Analogy of If you consider the universe as one body, you shall find society and conversation to supply the office of the blood and spirits; and it is gratitude that makes them circulate. Look over the whole creation, and you shall see that the band or cement that holds together all the parts of this great and glorious fabric is gratitude, or something like it: you may observe it in all the elements; for does not the air feed the flame? and does not the flame at the same time warm and enlighten the air? Is not the sea always sending forth as well as taking in? And does not the earth quit scores with all the elements, in the noble fruits and productions that issue from it? And in all the light and influence that the heavens bestow upon this lower world, though the lower world cannot equal their benefaction, yet, with a kind of grateful return, it reflects those rays that it cannot recompense; so that there is some return, however, though there can be no requital. Dr. South.

An Irish bishop, having lost his way, once called at the cottage of a poor woman for direction, when he found her just finishing her dinner of cold water and a crust of dry bread, but, in the height of thankfulness, praising God as if in the midst of unbounded mercies, as she said, "What, have all this and Christ besides!" Bowes.

A very poor and aged man, busied in planting and grafting an apple-tree, was rudely interrupted by this interrogation, "Why do you plant trees, who cannot hope to eat the fruit of them?" He raised himself up, and, leaning upon his spade, replied, "Some one planted trees for me before I was born; and I have eaten the fruit. I now plant for others, that the memorial of my gratitude may exist when I am dead and gone."

A rich youth in Rome had suffered from a dangerous illness. On recovering his health, his heart was filled with gratitude; and he exclaimed, "O thou all-sufficient Creator! could man recompense thee, how willingly would I give thee all my possessions! Hermas, the herdman, heard this, and said to the rich youth, 'All good gifts come from above: thither thou canst send nothing. Come, follow me.' He took him to a hut where was nothing but misery and wretchedness. The father lay on a bed of sickness, the mother wept, the children were destitute of clothing, and crying for bread. Hermas said, 'See here an altar for the sacrifice; see here the Lord's brethren and representatives.' The youth assisted them bountifully; and the poor people called him an angel of God. Hermas smiled, and said, 'Thus turn always thy grateful countenance, first to heaven, and then to earth.' Krummacher.

A successful merchant, who grew covetous as he grew rich, dreamed that a stranger came to him, and urged the claims of several benevolent societies, all of which he refused. The stranger then reminded him of the healing of his daughter, one year before; of his own recovery from sickness, five years before; of the removal of his agony for sin, fifteen years before. The stranger said, "Who delivered you then? Has he ever complained of being called on too often? Are you willing to ask no more of him if he will ask no more of you?" The merchant discovered that the stranger was his Saviour, and, repentant, cried, "Take all, take every thing!"

A man aged fifty years lived forty-eight of that time, and never knew what sickness was; but the last two years of his life he was sickly, and impatient under it; yet at last he reasoned the case thus with himself: "The Lord might have given me forty-eight years of sickness, and but two years of health, yet he hath done the contrary: I will therefore rather admire the mercy of God in giving me so long a time of health than repine and murmur at him for giving me so short a time of sickness." Spencer

It is said of Socrates, that he prized the king's countenance more than his coin. This should be realized by every Christian heart.

Not many years since, (says a correspondent of the New-York Evangelist, in 1830.) I had occasion to solicit funds to aid in the prosecution of a work of benevolence. I stepped into the office of a Christian brother, with whom I had a partial acquaintance, and incidentally mentioned the unpleasant business before me, and inquired of him for the residence of a certain benevolent individual, and added that I hoped to get one dollar of him. After receiving directions, I turned to go out: "But stop," said this brother, "suppose you let me have the privilege of contributing a little of the money which the Lord has lent me, to this cause. Put down $100 for me." I expressed my surprise that he should contribute so liberally, and remarked that I should feel myself in duty bound not to call on him very soon on a similar errand. "Well then," said he, "my brother, I think you will very much mistake your duty. If you knew how much pleasure it gave me to contribute of my substance to the Lord, you would feel no reluctance in calling again. And now let me charge you, when engaged in similar business, never to pass me by. Call, and I think I shall be able to do something; and if not, my prayers shall go with you."

A poor Welsh clergyman had been noticed by a wealthy London merchant, and received an occasional invitation to dinner. After a time, wishing to improve his circumstances, he set up a boarding-school, and was thereby enabled to obtain a bare maintenance for himself and family; while, from unforeseen events, the merchant became reduced in his circumstances.

No sooner did this sad reverse become known to the poor honest Welshman, than he hastened to evince his grateful feelings for the former kindness of the merchant. He sent for one of his sons, and boarded and educated him until he was of age to go out in life. A friend of the merchant afterwards met him, and inquired after his tried friend, the Welsh clergyman. With some emotion, he informed the friend, that he had recently travelled some miles on foot in order to pay a tribute of respect to him, and to his great grief found that he had lately departed this life. "But," said he, "his memory shall be cherished while my life and reason last."

When New England was first planted, the settlers met with many difficulties and hardships, as is necessarily the case when a civilized people attempt to establish themselves in a wilderness country. Being piously disposed, they sought relief from Heaven, by laying their wants and distresses before the Lord in frequent set days of fasting and prayer. Constant meditation, and discourse on the subject of their difficulties, kept their minds gloomy and discontented, and, like the children of Israel, there were many disposed to return to the land which persecution had determined them to abandon.

At length, when it was proposed in the assembly to proclaim another fast, a farmer, of plain sense, rose, and remarked, that the inconveniences they suffered, and concerning which they had so often wearied Heaven with their complaints, were not so great as might have been expected, and were diminishing every day as the colony strengthened; that the earth began to reward their labors, and to furnish liberally for their sustenance; that the seas and rivers were full of fish, the air sweet, the climate wholesome; above all, they were in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and religious. He therefore thought, that reflecting and conversing on these subjects would be more comfortable, as tending to make them more contented with their situation; and that it would be more becoming the gratitude they owed to the Divine Being, if, instead of a fast, they should proclaim a thanksgiving. His advice was taken; and, from that day to this, they have in every year observed circumstances of public happiness sufficient to furnish employment for a thanksgiving day.

A very poor and aged man, busied in planting and grafting an apple tree, was rudely interrupted by the interrogation, "Why do you plant trees, who cannot hope to eat the fruit of them?" He raised himself up, and, leaning upon his spade, replied, "Some one planted trees before I was born, and I have eaten the fruit; I now plant for others, that the memorial of my gratitude may exist when I am dead and gone."

Mr. Cathcart, of Drum, was in the practice of keeping a diary, which however included one particular department,

# HAPPINESS,

190. In Perils and Dangers.

A gentleman of very considerable fortune, but a stranger both to personal and family religion, one evening took a solitary walk through part of his grounds. He happened to come near to a mean hut, where a poor man lived with a numerous family, who earned their bread by daily labor. He heard a continued and pretty loud voice. Not knowing what it was, curiosity prompted him to listen. The man, who was piously disposed, happened to be at prayer with his family. So soon as he could distinguish the words, he heard him giving thanks, with great affection, to God for the goodness of his providence, in giving them food to eat and raiment to put on, and in supplying them with what was necessary and comfortable in the present life. He was immediately struck with astonishment and confusion, and said to himself, "Does this poor man, who has nothing but the meanest fare, and that purchased by severe labor, give thanks to God for his goodness to himself and family; and I, who enjoy ease and honor, and every thing that is pleasant and desirable, have hardly ever bent my knee, or made any acknowledgment to my Maker and Preserver!" It pleased God to make this providential occurrence the means of bringing him to a real and lasting sense of religion.

Shows how a thousand mercies are forgotten in presence of one trifling privation. If God withdrew His protection every time we forfeit it by murmuring, where would we be?

When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed, When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost, Count your many blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprize you what the Lord hath done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care? Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear? Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly, And you will be singing as the days go by.

When you look at others with their lands and gold, Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold, Count your many blessings, money can not buy Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high. (Text.)

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A missionary in China met an aged man who was measuring with the length of his body a pilgrimage of one hundred miles. He would kotow; that is, bump his head three times upon the ground, then prostrate himself full length; get up, repeat, and still repeat. When asked why he was doing this he said: “My son was very ill. I prayed and vowed to the god of health that if he would spare my son, I would measure with my body every mile of this pilgrimage to the tombs of my ancestors. He was spared to me. I must keep my vow. No one can help me. I must go alone.”

Was he not presenting his body a living sacrifice, mistaken, of course, in form, but faithful in spirit?

See INVESTMENT RETURN; RESCUE; UNSELFISHNESS.

GRATITUDE, UNCALCULATING

Henry Van Dyke, in _The Outlook_, expresses the spontaneous nature of true gratitude:

Do you give thanks for this, or that? No, God be thanked, I am not grateful In that cold calculating way, with blessings ranked As one, two, three, and four--that would be hateful!

I only know that every day brings good above My poor deserving; I only feel that on the road of life true Love Is leading me along and never swerving.

Whatever turn the path may take to left or right, I think it follows The tracing of a wiser hand, through dark and light, Across the hills and in the shady hollows.

Whatever gifts the hours bestow, or great or small, I would not measure As worth a certain price in praise, but take them all And use them all, with simple, heartfelt pleasure.

For when we gladly eat our daily bread, we bless The hand that feeds us; And when we walk along life’s way in cheerfulness, Our very heart-beats praise the Love that leads us.

Thanksgiving Day was near. The first grade teacher gave her class a fun assignment -- to draw a picture of something for which they were thankful.

Most of the class might be considered economically disadvantaged, but still many would celebrate the holiday with turkey and other traditional goodies of the season. These, the teacher thought, would be the subjects of most of her student's art. And they were.

But Douglas made a different kind of picture. Douglas was a different kind of boy. He was the teacher's true child of misery, frail and unhappy. As other children played at recess, Douglas was likely to stand close by her side. One could only guess at the pain Douglas felt behind those sad eyes.

Yes, his picture was different. When asked to draw a picture of something for which he was thankful, he drew a hand. Nothing else. Just an empty hand.

His abstract image captured the imagination of his peers. Whose hand could it be? One child guessed it was the hand of a farmer, because farmers raise turkeys. Another suggested a police officer, because the police protect and care for people. Still others guessed it was the hand of God, for God feeds us. And so the discussion went -- until the teacher almost forgot the young artist himself.

When the children had gone on to other assignments, she paused at Douglas' desk, bent down, and asked him whose hand it was.

The little boy looked away and murmured, “It's yours, teacher.”

She recalled the times she had taken his hand and walked with him here or there, as she had the other students. How often had she said, “Take my hand, Douglas, we'll go outside.” Or, “Let me show you how to hold your pencil.” Or, “Let's do this together.” Douglas was most thankful for his teacher's hand.

Brushing aside a tear, she went on with her work.

The story speaks of more than thankfulness. It says something about teachers teaching and parents parenting and friends showing friendship, and how much it means to the Douglases of the world. They might not always say thanks. But they'll remember the hand that reaches out.

Author Unknown

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[Original illustration at this number was deleted for being obsolete]

During the Vietnam conflict, a young graduate of West Point Academy was sent to Vietnam to lead a group of new recruits into battle. He did his job well, trying his best to keep his men from ambush and death. However, one night he and his men were overtaken by a battalion of the Viet Cong. He was able to get all but one of his men to safety.

The one soldier who had been left behind had been severely wounded, and from their trenches, the young lieutenant and his men could hear their wounded comrade moaning and crying for help. They all knew that venturing out into the vicious crossfire of the enemy would mean almost certain death. But the groanings of the wounded soldier continued on through the night.

Eventually, the endurance of the young lieutenant came to an end, and he crawled out of this place of safety toward the cries of the dying man. He got to him safely and was able to drag him back. But just as he pushed the wounded man into the safety of the trench, he himself caught a bullet in the back and was killed instantly.

Several months later, the rescued man returned to the United States, and when the parents of the dead hero heard that he was in their vicinity, they planned to have him come to dinner. They wanted to know this young man whose life was spared at such a great cost to them.

On the night of the dinner party, their guest arrived drunk. He was loud and boisterous. He told off-color jokes and showed no concern for his suffering hosts. The parents of the dead hero did the best they could to make it a worthwhile evening, but their efforts went unrewarded.

At the end of that torturous visit, the obscene guest left. As her husband closed the door, the mother collapsed in tears and cried, "To think that our precious son had to die for somebody like that." That soldier owed those parents the best that was in him. It was evil for him to give so little thought to what they had lost because of him. Considering the price that had been paid for his life, his ingratitude was beyond comprehension. But we are just like him - Jesus died for us, yet we continue to sin. We fail to reflect on the cost of our salvation.

A poem written by Archpriest Grigory Petrov shortly before his death in a Siberian prison camp.

What is my praise before you?

I have not heard the cherubim singing, that is the lot of souls sublime,

but I know how nature praises you.

In winter I have thought about the whole earth praying quietly to you in the

silence of the moon,

wrapped around in a mantle of white,

sparkling with diamonds of snow.

I have seen how the rising sun rejoiced in you,

and choirs of birds sang forth glory.

I have heard how secretly the forest noises you abroad,

how the winds sing, the waters gurgle,

how the choirs of stars preach of you in serried motion through

unending space.

There is no more poignant testimony to the difference between Marxism and

Christianity than that a Christian martyr would end his earthly existence in a

spirit of praise to God rather than bitterness towards his oppressor. Indeed,

another English writer, G.K. Chesterton, has observed that the origin of

theology is gratitude. [1518]

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The Masai tribe in West Africa have an unusual way of saying thank you. Translators tell us that when the Masai express thanks, they bow, put their forehead on the ground, and say “My head is in the dirt.”

When members of another African tribe want to express gratitude, they sit for a long time in front of the hut of the person who did the favor and literally say, “I sit on the ground before you.”

These Africans understand well what thanksgiving is and why it’s difficult for us: at its core, thanksgiving is an act of humility.