My late colleague and important mentor, Roy McKinney, would often say to me, “Huxford, the greatest missing virtue among modern Christians is thanksgiving.” I always agreed – one of the few areas where I wouldn’t deliberately disagree to create an argument!
I grew up in a family where, if you received a gift, you wrote a thank-you note. (Back then, sending a text that required 30 seconds of my time for a generous gift wasn’t an option – and still shouldn’t be.) I married a beautiful woman who grew up in the same kind of family. To no one’s surprise, we raised two daughters who grew up the same way – and both would never assume a text or email would be a good substitute for a hand-written note.
Occasionally, since Vicki died, I receive emails from people with a photo of a thank-you note Vicki sent them. The most recent one – just a few months ago – was a thank-you note for turning pages for Vicki as she was playing the organ for an event. I was raised to be a grateful person, but I know I learned even more about gratitude along the way in our life together.
I think Thanksgiving is more complicated than an annual sermon on the Sunday before the holiday, titled “Three Reasons to be Thankful.” I don’t think I ever preached such a sermon! But every year, on my website, I try and say something meaningful about the value of Thanksgiving. I’ve learned to smoke a pretty good turkey on my Big Green Egg. My mother-in-law taught me how to make Southern cornbread dressing that most people seem to like. My version of sweet potato casserole almost always gets eaten up at carry-in versions of Thanksgiving dinners.
But . . . that’s not really what I like about Thanksgiving. It seems to be a breath of fresh air when, for the most part, we can set aside the nasty, tension-filled conversations of our culture and acknowledge what a blessed people we are. Perhaps such a spirit might become contagious, and this year’s celebration of Thanksgiving can create a shift in attitudes for our culture.
If you noticed the title to this post – Can Thanksgiving Bring Compassion? – you may be wondering if I plan to answer that question. I do! Please keep reading. For me, this will be the most important experience of this year’s celebration of Thanksgiving.
Last week, the International Conference on Missions met in Atlanta. ICOM is a Christian church-related annual conference focused on global missions. Point University was an important sponsor of the event this year, and I attended the conference all three days – Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I reconnected with friends I haven’t seen in a long time, including a former student from Albania whom I had not seen in 22 years! I met his wife for the first time. Lots of other former students were there, along with friends and colleagues from a lifetime of serving Christ. I heard incredible sermons – one from my cousin, Cam Huxford, on boldness, and another from Dr. Orpheus Heyward. whose most memorable sentence for me was, “Jesus won’t ask you about what title you had, but He will ask you how dirty your towel is.” I hugged the neck of Joanie Grimm and bought a signed copy of her recent book. Joanie is 94 years old and has been doing things her whole life we once thought and insisted women can’t do! She is the reason Seminary of the Nations sent me to Albania twice.
All of that makes me think the answer to my question that has prompted this post is, “Yes!” But I have a more personal way that I want to answer that question, “Yes . . . and then some.”
When I got home late Saturday afternoon, my younger daughter, who lives next door, came over with my dog, Deacon Phoebe. She immediately said, “Dad, you don’t look like you feel good.” In an unusual response from me, I said, “I don’t.” Next thing I knew, I was doing a Covid test, which I assured her would turn out negative. But I was wrong. It was positive. When you’re in your mid-seventies, Covid can be a serious issue. I called my doctor, and soon, the on-call service called me back.
The doctor I spoke with must have made an A+ in his class on bedside manner. He asked if I had gotten the Covid vaccine. I replied that I had. He said, “Good; this year’s Covid is tough, but the vaccine will mean it won’t be as bad.” After several other questions, he said that he would call in for a prescription for Paxlovid, the antiviral drug recommended for people my age.
Within 15 minutes the pharmacy called to tell me that the co-pay for my prescription was $659. They suggested that I call my prescription coverage provider and ask them about that price. I spent 30 minutes in a phone conversation with a nice lady. I kept insisting that my frustration was not with her, but I kept asking, “If I don’t get this medicine and end up in the hospital, do you realize it will cost Humana more?” She said that she did, but there was nothing she could do. She promised she would report my concerns and questions to her superior, but I’m not holding my breath that I will hear from anyone.
And now, to finally directly answer my question:
Thanksgiving:
- I’m grateful for scientists who have developed vaccines that are helpful and medicines that can manage what the vaccines don’t prevent.
- I’m grateful that even though I’m older than many people who are still working, I have the ability to continue to work, and my workplace provides an option to store away money for medical costs at tax savings.
- I’m grateful that I’ve been relatively healthy and haven’t spent the money in my medical savings account.
- I’m grateful that I can afford to pay the premiums for Medicare and my supplemental insurance coverage.
- I’m grateful that I have two great daughters who, along with their husbands, will check on me and make sure I am taking care of myself.
- I’m grateful that the medicine seems to be working. I don’t feel back to normal today, but compared to Saturday night and Sunday, I’m better.
Compassion:
- I know a lot of people my age who would have a hard time coming up with $659 as a copay on one prescription. Should we just say, “Tough luck; hope you make it?”
- In a city the size of metro Atlanta (6.5 million people), there are no doubt thousands of people who have no options when it comes to basic health care.
- Despite the fact that I keep seeing local news reports about giveaways of turkeys and Thanksgiving dinners, there is no doubt that people will go to bed hungry on Thanksgiving night – and, in Georgia, many of them are children.
- I know that any sane reading of Matthew 25:31-46 should cause me, in the midst of my own thanksgiving, to pause for a moment of compassion that is followed by some sort of action.
- I know I don’t know all the answers – but I do know that the answer is not rampant consumerism or judgment on those who somehow never had the privilege of growing up in a family like I did or my children did.
- I also know that the answer isn’t alignment with a political party that is all about conviction or a political party that is all about compassion. (Read Justin Giboney’s Compassion and Conviction.) It is “both/and” and never “either/or.”
I don’t want to make too big of a deal out of the fact that I have Covid. But it is entirely likely that a guy my age – perhaps homeless or living on a meager Social Security income and without capacity to pay a $659 copay for a drug that could likely save his life – will die this week, but I’m still living. I can’t stop thinking about that and what it truly means to be pro-life (again, read Matthew 25).
Here’s my prayer for this week of Thanksgiving: “Lord, I count my many blessings before you in prayer each day. Help me to never fail to be mindful of the wonderful life I live. Today I am mindful of the turkey thawing in my refrigerator, waiting to go on the Big Green Egg. I’m mindful of the medicine I’m taking to hopefully get me over Covid and able to share in a bountiful Thanksgiving dinner with family. I’m mindful of two incredible children and their husbands, whose lives make me glad. I’m grateful for the family that raised me and the family that became mine at marriage. I’m grateful for my job – more ministry than job! – that affords me housing, clothing, food, and beyond. And for my wonderful friends, Lord, I can’t possibly ‘count them one by one.’ I pray that on this Thanksgiving Day, my great sense of thanksgiving can become evident in the compassion I show to those around me who have great need, but little hope. I pray this in the name of Jesus, who along with you and the Holy Spirit, reign, One God, forever and ever. Amen.”
I pray some version of this prayer can become yours this week.
Wye Huxford 