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Perry's chapel United Methodist church, 2019 Highway 19, Gainestown, AL (2026)

10/08/2024

This is a repeat, but I hope my FB friends don't mind reading it once again. I can't help myself. Every October, I just have to post it.

Black-Eyed Susan Time
There’re back! There’re Back!! Do you see them? I love to ride the rural back roads and look in the roadside ditches when I drive to wherever it is I am going. Look with me as we ride together. Do you see them? Those big beautiful, golden petals surrounding that jet-black center? Aren’t they beautiful? Black-Eyed Susans are my favorite flower in all the world. Notice where they are growing. Mostly in the ditches. Now, Black-Eyed Susans amaze me! Beginning in the spring of the year, we taxpayers pay our appropriate agencies to load their tractors and trucks with some variety of poison, and spray the ditches of our highways and by-ways in an effort to kill everything growing in them. If anything does survive, we take tractors and bush hog it. Additionally, every form of pollution known to man runs in, over, and through every ditch.
Then comes October. It’s Black-Eyed Susan time! For, in spite of all attempts to poison them, bush hog them, or pollute them into oblivion, miraculously, they reappear right on schedule. Poking up their yellow and black heads to the sun, they wave at us in the breeze and smile to us as nature’s Happy Face. At the beginning of the day, in unison, they turn their faces toward the East and the rising sun. As Mr. Sun follows his course higher and higher in the sky, each one follows him with their faces. At dusk, every face is turned to the West to catch the last ray of light. The next morning, each and every Black-Eyed face is repositioned to the East, ready to catch the first glimpse of Mr. Sun.
There is a parable of life here for you, for me, for every Christian. No matter how much Satan attempts to poison us, cut us down, or pollute us, if we keep our face toward the Son, we will survive, grow, even prosper, and present a Happy Face to the world. For you see, this time of year, when the seasons change right on schedule, reminds me that God is still on His throne, and his creation still obeys Him. “As long as the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.” (Gen.8:22)
And even when death comes to the Black-Eyed Susan in the form of Ole Man Frost, I am left with the knowledge that next year, in spite of poisons and bush hogs and pollution, at God’s command, Black-Eyed Susans will rise again and lift their faces to the sun. Even so, after Ole Man Death has taken this mortal body of mine, and my family has deposited it in the ground; one glorious day at God’s command, my soul will rise with countless others, drawn to the Son forever.
So, I pause now, and relish this Black-Eyed Susan time! And I H O P E. . .
Bro. Digger

12/25/2023

Buena

This story is adapted from a character in Micheal Elliott’s The Society of Salty Saints

Buena was a big woman, weighing at least 250 pounds. From the backwoods of rural Kentucky, she had a high nasal country twang. “Now, I’mma gonna teel ya sometin,” she would say. Buena had run the clothing closet in our inner-city church for years.
On a hot August day, Buena finally went to the doctor where she learned that her great stomach was not all stomach, but that a large part of it was a cancerous tumor. “I’m sorry,” said the doctor, “but the cancer has progressed to the point that surgery is out of the question. We have some medication that might reduce the pain.”
“What ya be sayin’?” she asked. The doctor cleared his throat.
“You have about six weeks to live,” he said. I am so sorry.
Buena enjoyed proving people wrong. She lived well past the predicted six weeks, one last act of defiance against the doctors.
When the Advent season descended upon our little church, the congregation gathered for their celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus. After a potluck meal the church family gathered around the piano and began to sing Christmas carols. There were homeless men singing next to students and elderly women. Whites stood with their arms around blacks. Wealthy people hugged the poor. The dividing walls of hostility, race, class, and economic status had crumbled on this special day.
After much singing, Claude suggested that we all walk over to Buena’s house and sing her some Christmas carols. Everyone thought this a wonderful idea so, off to Buena’s we went. Twenty or so of us gathered around her bed and sang carols. Buena was obviously pleased that so many had come. She tried, of course, not to show her pleasure. We sang a few carols and Buena sang along.
Claude asked, “Buena, what is your favorite Christmas carol?”
With no hesitation, she replied, “Silent Night.” We all began to sing. “Silent night, Holy night…” And indeed, it was a clear, cold evening with a star-filled sky. We all felt good about singing for Buena.
Suddenly, tears began to roll down Buena’s face. Then tears began to stream down the faces of every one of us. Here was our church, considered by many to be a dying church, singing Christmas carols to a dying lady. The carol took on a new meaning as our tiny congregation sang to Buena, “Sleep in heavenly peace, Sleep in heavenly peace.”
That night, Buena went to spend her first Christmas with her Jesus up at His place. Bro. Digger

12/21/2023

The Winter Solstice
In Him was life; and that life was the light of mankind. His life is the light that shines through the darkness and the darkness can never extinguish it. (John 1:4-5)

I had stopped in to visit with a good friend for a few moments during these last hectic days before Christmas. The last couple of years had been tough for my friend; the loss of a deeply loved spouse of many years, being the toughest part. Although my friend is quite stoic, and has learned to handle the vicissitudes of life quite admirably, I still knew that the Christmas holidays would be a tough time. So, I stopped in to visit, hoping to diffuse the loneliness and emptiness with reminders of my own love as well as the love of our church.
But what, after all, can one say in such tough times? Words seem to always be inadequate. And why do we always feel as if we must say something wise and poignant anyway? My friend and I are both mature adults. My presence alone should speak volumes about my own love and concern, and since I am, after all the preacher, my presence should also speak for the church.
Well, maybe that is the reason. I am the preacher. The Herald, proclaimer, messenger, foreteller and announcer of the Good News. I am supposed to talk. I must talk! I will fail in my calling of Yahweh himself if I don’t bring some measure of peace to this hurting soul!
Isn’t it strange how often we get caught up in the measure of our own success or failure, right in the midst of our effort to minister to the hurting souls and hearts of our friends and neighbors? Isn’t it strange how often we fail when we try the hardest to succeed? And the reason for such failure? Why, nothing short of our own sinful pride in thinking it is our wisdom and acumen, rather than God’s.
But I have been doing this for some forty-plus years now. And during these years, I have learned a thing or two. I have learned that my first act of love is an act of obedience. So, when the Holy Spirit strongly brings someone to mind, I have learned to obey that prompting and to call, write, or visit that person. If I visit, I have learned to be obedient to the spirit. Often times, I don’t have to say anything. I just visit. And my visit speaks words understood by the spirit of those I visit. Other times, I have learned to wait patiently upon the Lord to speak through me. I have learned that sometime during the visit, the Holy Spirit will give me the exact words needed for the occasion.
Such was the case during this particular visit. Sometime during this visit, my mind recalled that the day I was visiting was the winter solstice. The winter solstice always falls on December 21 for the northern hemisphere. It is known as the shortest day of the year. Beginning December 22, the days began to be longer. I thought to myself just how ambiguous this is. For December 21 also marks the very first day of winter. Winter, that period of time between the winter solstice and the vernal (spring) equinox.
I thought at first that this was a classic anachronism, if I understood that word in its true sense of something existing or occurring at other than its proper time. I thought of the classic symbolism of light and darkness; darkness representing despair and evil at its worst, and light representing hope and goodness at its best. Thus, the anachronism: the day of the year which tells us that the encroaching darkness has been halted in its degrees every day, also tells us that winter, the hardest, coldest, grayest days of the year begin. What an anachronism!
Or, is it a paradox? This seeming contradiction is actually true. Even though the cold, gray, depressing days of winter are upon us, it is equally true that the emerging light reminds us that spring is coming. Winter cannot bury us forever. Our spirits, our souls shall push through the spiritual and mental darkness just as surely as the daffodils shall push their green shoots through the melting snow.
So, the Holy Spirit turned on that little light in my head, and I shared my thoughts with my friend. The winter solstice and winter are marked as the same day on the calendar. And while we understand them, astronomically speaking, there is most certainly another meaning, a spiritual meaning.
“My friend, perhaps, just perhaps, our Lord has halted now the daily darkness of grief and loneliness, and is beginning even now to fill that emptiness in your heart with His light of love. The winter solstice announces that the darkness will now be driven back by the light, even as you think the winter has just begun. Tears formed in those stoic eyes of my friend, and I was once again reminded of her tender heart.
“Brother Digger, you always seem to know just want to say.”
Not me, my friend. I only say what my Lord gives me to say. And he reminds you and me that he has many names, one of which is H O P E . . .
Brother Digger.

09/22/2022

The Autumn Equinox – September 22, 2022
For those who have forgotten their 6th grade science class, the autumn equinox is that precise time when the sun crosses the equator as the earth tilts on its axis. making the day and night everywhere of equal length. Equinox is from the Latin, “aequus” meaning “equal”, and “nox” meaning “night.” Thus, the 24-hour day is divided equally between day and night.
The Autumnal Equinox is for me personally, both a curse and a blessing. The blessing is my knowledge that autumn brings those deep blue Indian Summer skies over fields of Golden Rod and highway ditches filled with Black-Eyed Susans. Great mechanical cotton-pickers will be sweeping through fields, vacuuming the snow-white puffballs into their giant stomachs and belching out giant rolls of cotton, ready for the gin. Vast fields of peanuts yield themselves to fill convoys of tractor-trailer vans, leaving their vines for giant rolls of peanut hay for the cows. The green husks of pecans will turn brown, split open and turn loose of their precious cargo. Squirrels, ants, and other creatures are busy storing caches of food for the winter months ahead. Ruby Throated hummers are stopping by area feeders on their migratory route. And a thousand other such memories flood my mind at the Autumnal Equinox.
The curse is that I always get itchy feet this time of the year. I absolutely believe that one of my ancestors got mixed up with a bunch of Gypsies and tainted my genes with Gypsy DNA. This curse is what makes me want to climb in my pickup truck and ride every country road I can find off the beaten path. I just want to go, to be outdoors, to watch in wondrous awe as the season changes from summer to autumn. As I ride, my mind is overwhelmed at the enormity of the harvest produced by the seeds planted in the spring of just a few months ago. God, in His infinite wisdom and power is providing yet one more harvest for all the earth, feeding mankind and animals alike for one more cycle. So, I ride the back roads and look and watch in worshipful awe.
The Autumnal Equinox also reminds me that this is actually the best time of the year to plant grass and trees. During the coming winter months, grasses and trees will have time to put down deep root systems, which will enable them to withstand the drought and heat of the coming summer months. One would think that the winter months would kill newly planted grass and trees; perhaps because we see brown grass and leafless trees. We forget that growth is occurring in the root system.
Ah! That’s sorta like life isn’t it? Often, we go through harsh, cold times in our lives when we feel we are dead or about to die. Yet the truth is that God is with us, helping us put down deep roots of faith, so that when the scorching heat and drought of life hits us, we can draw upon his grace to sustain us. We, like the rest of creation, survive to produce yet another “harvest” of souls for His Kingdom!
And I live in H O P E. . . Bro. Digger

09/04/2022

H O M E C O M I N G ! !

Perry’s Chapel United Methodist Church
September 18, 2022

Come one, Come all! Let’s make this one the best homecoming ever! Keith Rivers is leading the music, Joann Middlebrooks is on the piano, and Bro. Digger Creel is doing the preaching.
Homecoming fellowship meal will follow the worship service. Repost this notice on your FB page and share on all social media. Then call, visit, invite family and friends to come with you to this 2022 homecoming at PCUMC!

04/17/2022

Betrayal

Why? Why did he do it? Judas Iscariot. Why did he agree so easily to be the one to betray Jesus? He was a disciple, after all. He saw with his own two eyes all those miracles of our Lord.
I write in the middle of Holy Week, these last days of the Lenten Season. I started on Ash Wednesday, reading once again the Passion of our Lord. And once again, now, I come to the part that disturbs me so greatly. Judas. The betrayer. It bothers me for several reasons. Chief of these is the fact that Judas was there. He surely helped take up those twelve baskets of food fragments when the five thousand were fed. Was he not in the boat when Jesus stilled the storm? And when Jesus walked on the water to them? Was he not there when Jairus’ daughter was raised from death? Or the widow’s son? Surely Judas watched in awe as Lazarus walked forth from the tomb!
How then, after seeing all the miracles with his own two eyes, could Judas possibly agree to betray the Lord? What was his motivation? Greed? Oh, I simply cannot believe that! Zealotry? Perhaps. We have all heard sermon after sermon guessing, assuming, implying and postulating about why Judas did what he did. But they are all just that: assumptions and theories. Because the Gospel writer is silent as to Judas’ motivation. “Why?” He just ignores the “Why?” altogether.
And that just bothers me to no end.
But then, I read that gifted Lutheran pastor, Walter Wangerin, who sheds light and helps me understand. He says there is a lesson for us when the Gospel writer presents the sin apart from its causes, “…as though motives were merely incidental and ultimately beside the point.”
I want to argue, because all of my life, I have attempted to understand what motivates me to do or not do certain things. To that end, I have spent no small part of my life studying human behavior, attempting to understand why we human beings behave as we do. Cause and effect. Find the cause, explain the behavior. And in the discipline of psychology, such study is essential, imperative.
But when it comes to the realm of the spiritual, Wangerin nails me: “Does the motive of a sin—its rationale, its reasons—make it any less of a sin? Isn’t the betrayal of the sovereignty of the Lord in our lives always a sin, regardless of the factors that drove us to betray him?”
And I have to answer in the affirmative. And yet, all of us continue to habitually defend our behavior and thus attempt to diminish our responsibility for that behavior by spewing forth a stream of “reasons” as to why we had no choice but to do it.
“Not my fault!” precedes and ends our every sin. As children, we learn early, and it usually sounds something like this: “Not my fault!” He hit me first! I’m just defending myself!” As adults we have honed this avoidance of responsibility to a fine art: “Not my fault! I’m a victim of…” You know the list: child abuse, racism, bad parents, clergy abuse, poverty, bad societal influence, ad nauseum.
Wangerin says we sinners have it backwards. And he is right! Listen to him: “We invert the true source of our justification. It isn’t some preliminary cause, some motive before the sin that justifies me, but rather the forgiveness of Christ which meets my repentance after the sin. If I did it, I am responsible, whatever the reasons might be. Motives are incidental to the sin as a sin and to its expiation.”
The point is that if we continue to avoid our responsibility, and refuse to take ownership for our behavior by making “excuses” and giving “reasons” why we did a thing, then we will never truly repent. We don’t see the need to repent, because we fell “justified” by our excuses and reasons. And if we don’t admit the need of repentance, then forgiveness from the one against whom we have sinned (and isn’t all sin ultimately against the Christ?), becomes incidental to us. Then we find ourselves in a desolate, spiritless condition.
But if, on the other hand (and can you see what a most important conditional “if” this is?), if, I say, we will only own up to our behavior, our sin, and claim it as ours, then and only then, can we truly repent and be “justified” by the forgiveness of the Christ, against whom we ultimately sinned.
The Gospel writer had no need to give a motive for the Judas story. Judas’ motive would neither justify him nor damn him one bit more. It is true repentance that brings the forgiving, justifying, redeeming love of God to the most horrible of the betrayers of the Christ. Even Judas Iscariot. Even me. Even you.
Bro. Digger

04/17/2022

Good Friday

How incongruent can you be? To call this Friday “Good?” This Friday on which Mark tells us, “And they crucified him…” The words mask the cruelty, the inhumanity of the act. What do we moderns know about crucifixion?
Crucified… All crucifixions begin with a scourging. Scourging? Flogging! The flagellum. The whip! That instrument t of evil consisting of a wooden handle designed to fit a strong man’s hand. With leather thongs attached. And attached on the end of the leather thongs are metal balls or sharp pieces of bone, designed to rip the flesh off a human’s back. “Pilate had Jesus scourged, and handed him over to be crucified.” And we call this “Good Friday?”
All crucifixions include torrents of individual assaults. They mocked him…spit on him…again and again they struck him on the head with a staff…they snatched his beard out…they wove a crown of thorns and set it on him…then they led him out to crucify him. And we call this “Good Friday?”
All crucifixions required the condemned to carry their own Patibulum (the cross bar) to the crucifixion site. Can you see Jesus stumbling under the weight (not so much the weight of the cross bar, but the weight of my sins and yours, which the Apostle Paul tells us were nailed to his cross!) and bursting his kneecaps open upon the cobblestone street? Can you see the soldiers kicking him? Can you hear them cursing him? And we call this “Good Friday?”
The final act of crucifixion is immobilizing the condemned to the wooden cross by means of driving iron spikes (nails) between the carpals and the radius of each wrist, and another spike through both feet (one atop the other) in the second intermetatarsal space of each foot. The victim’s cross is then raised upright, where the victim hangs between heaven and earth. Death comes slowly, taking on the average about three days. And we call this “Good Friday?”
And the people! What were the people doing? Mark says, “Those who passed by hurled insults at him.” He goes on to say that some just stood by, and that the religious leaders “…mocked him,” and said, “Let this Christ, this King of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” And we call this “Good Friday?”
How incongruent can we be? And yet, Oh Lord Jesus, the real incongruity is that you could have called ten thousand angels, but you did not! The incongruity is that You, Perfect Lamb of God, precious Lilly of the Valley, Fairest of Ten Thousand, Sinless One, would love me enough to bear my sins on that cross and be crucified for me!
The real incongruity is that Good Friday is also the day that the Lord hath made. And the incongruity is that on this day, by Your death, You bring eternal life. For as Your servant, the great S.M Lockridge has preached, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming!” Sunday! Easter Sunday! Resurrection Sunday! “Do not be amazed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. Now go, tell.”
Dear Lord Jesus, by the power of your Holy Spirit, please whisper that message to any and all who are being crucified this day: It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming!
Bro. Digger

12/21/2021

Solstice and Winter

In Him was life; and that life was the light of mankind. His life is the light that shines through the darkness and the darkness can never extinguish it. (John 1:4-5)

I had stopped in to visit with a good friend for a few moments during these last hectic days before Christmas. The last couple of years had been tough for my friend; the loss of a deeply loved spouse of many years, being the toughest part. Although my friend is quite stoic, and has learned to handle the vicissitudes of life quite admirably, I still knew that the Christmas holidays would be a tough time. So, I stopped in to visit, hoping to diffuse the loneliness and emptiness with reminders of my own love as well as the love of our church.
But what, after all, can one say in such tough times? Words seem to always be inadequate. And why do we always feel as if we must say something wise and poignant anyway? My friend and I are both mature adults. My presence alone should speak volumes about my own love and concern, and since I am, after all the preacher, my presence should also speak for the church.
Well, maybe that is the reason. I am the preacher. The Herald, proclaimer, messenger, foreteller and announcer of the Good News. I am supposed to talk. I must talk! I will fail in my calling of Yahweh himself if I don’t bring some measure of peace to this hurting soul!
Isn’t it strange how often we get caught up in the measure of our own success or failure, right in the midst of our effort to minister to the hurting souls and hearts of our friends and neighbors? Isn’t it strange how often we fail when we try the hardest to succeed? And the reason for such failure? Why, nothing short of our own sinful pride in thinking it is our wisdom and acumen, rather than God‘s.
But I have been doing this for some thirty-plus years now. And during these years, I have learned a thing or two. I have learned that my first act of love is an act of obedience. So, when the Holy Spirit strongly brings someone to mind, I have learned to obey that prompting and to call, write, or visit that person. If I visit, I have learned to be obedient to the spirit. Often times, I don’t have to say anything. I just visit. And my visit speaks words understood by the spirit of those I visit. Other times, I have learned to wait patiently upon the Lord to speak through me. I have learned that sometime during the visit, the Holy Spirit will give me the exact words needed for the occasion.
Such was the case during this particular visit. Sometime during this visit, my mind recalled that the day I was visiting was the winter solstice. The winter solstice always falls on December 21 for the northern hemisphere. It is known as the shortest day of the year. Beginning December 22, the days began to be longer. I thought to myself just how ambiguous this is. For December 21 also marks the very first day of winter. Winter, that period of time between the winter solstice and the vernal (spring) equinox.
I thought at first that this was a classic anachronism, if I understood that wording in its true sense of something existing or occurring at other than its proper time. I thought of the classic symbolism of light and darkness; darkness representing despair and evil at its worst, and light representing hope and goodness at its best. Thus, the anachronism: the day of the year which tells us that the encroaching darkness has been halted in its degrees every day, also tells us that winter, the hardest, coldest, grayest days of the year begin. What an anachronism!
Or, is it a paradox? This seeming contradiction is actually true. Even though the cold, gray, depressing days of winter are upon us, it is equally true that the emerging light reminds us that spring is coming. Winter cannot bury us forever. Our spirits, our souls shall push through the spiritual and mental darkness just as surely as the daffodils shall push their green shoots through the melting snow.
So, the Holy Spirit turned on that little light in my head, and I shared my thoughts with my friend. The winter solstice and winter are marked as the same day on the calendar. And while we understand them, astronomically speaking, there is most certainly another meaning, a spiritual meaning.
“My friend, perhaps, just perhaps, our Lord has halted now the daily darkness of grief and loneliness, and is beginning even now to fill that emptiness in your heart with His light of love. The winter solstice announces that the darkness will now be driven back by the light, even as you think the winter has just begun. Tears formed in those stoic eyes of my friend, and I was once again reminded of her tender heart.
“Brother Digger, you always seem to know just what to say.”
Not me, my friend. I only say what my Lord gives me to say. And he reminds you and me that he has many names, one of which is H O P E . . .
Brother Digger.

11/25/2021

Counting Our Blessings
We sing it all the time. We sing it so often until I fear that we no longer really hear the words; we simply sing them by rote. But during this season of Thanksgiving, these words of Johnson Oatman, Jr. should give us pause to:
“Count your many blessings, name them one by one
Count your many blessings, see what God hath done.”
Where do you start when you begin to “Count your blessings? Do you start with family? Grandmaws & Paw Paws, Moms & Dads, Wives & Husbands, Sons & Daughters, Brothers & Sisters, Grand Children, Aunts & Uncles, 1st Cousins?
Or do you start counting your blessings with material things, like houses to live in, and refrigerators and microwave ovens and beds and bathrooms with hot and cold running water, and TVs and cell phones and central air and heat?
Or do you start counting your blessings with good health, including the ability to see and hear? Or glasses and hearing aids should you need them? Or good doctors and medications and hospitals and nurses and immunizations? Or good teeth and toothpaste and dental floss and tooth brushes and plenty of dentists if needed?
We are blessed to have supermarkets filled with groceries. And clothing stores and hardware stores and shoe stores and shopping malls filled with anything anyone could possibly want or need. And if you don’t have time to go to the mall or the grocery store, just order it from Amazon, and it will be delivered to your front door in one day.
What are you blessed with? How long has it been since you stopped long enough to:
“Count your many blessings, name them one by one.”?????
We could go on listing material blessings that we all enjoy in this great land of America, where even the poorest among us are wealthy in comparison to people in third-world countries. But the hymn writer was not speaking only of material things. Listen as he instructs us in spiritual matters:
“Count your many blessings, money cannot buy
Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.”
The greatest blessing to all of mankind came from God in the form of his son, Jesus Christ. For it is Christ who makes it possible for us to have a “home on high.” And because of what Jesus has done for us, we can add to our list of blessings, the Church, which consists of all our Brothers and Sisters in Christ.
This Thanksgiving season, let each and every one of us resolve to:
“Count your many blessings, name them one by one…”

Happy Thanksgiving!! Bro. Digger

11/25/2021

Counting Our Blessings
We sing it all the time. We sing it so often until I fear that we no longer really hear the words; we simply sing them by rote. But during this season of Thanksgiving, these words of Johnson Oatman, Jr. should give us pause to:
“Count your many blessings, name them one by one
Count your many blessings, see what God hath
done.”
Where do you start when you begin to “Count your blessings? Do you start with family? Grandmaws & Paw Paws, Moms & Dads, Wives & Husbands, Sons & Daughters, Brothers & Sisters, Grand Children, Aunts & Uncles, 1st Cousins?
Or do you start counting your blessings with material things, like houses to live in, and refrigerators and microwave ovens and beds and bathrooms with hot and cold running water, and TVs and cell phones and central air and heat?
Or do you start counting your blessings with good health, including the ability to see and hear? Or glasses and hearing aids should you need them? Or good doctors and medications and hospitals and nurses and immunizations? Or good teeth and toothpaste and dental floss and tooth brushes and plenty of dentists if needed?
We are blessed to have supermarkets filled with groceries. And clothing stores and hardware stores and shoe stores and shopping malls filled with anything anyone could possibly want or need. And if you don’t have time to go to the mall or the grocery store, just order it from Amazon, and it will be delivered to your front door in one day.
What are you blessed with? How long has it been since you stopped long enough to “Count your many blessings, name them one by one.”?????
We could go on listing material blessings that we all enjoy in this great land of America, where even the poorest among us are wealthy in comparison to people in third-world countries. But the hymn writer was not speaking only of material things. Listen as he instructs us in spiritual matters:
“Count your many blessings, money cannot buy
Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.”
The greatest blessing to all of mankind came from God in the form of his son, Jesus Christ. For it is Christ who makes it possible for us to have a “home on high.” And because of what Jesus has done for us, we can add to our list of blessings, the Church, which consists of all our Brothers and Sisters in Christ.
This Thanksgiving season, let each and every one of us resolve to:
“Count your many blessings, name them one by one”

Happy Thanksgiving!! Bro. Digger

Perry's chapel United Methodist church

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