Give Thanks
An old man walks down a Florida beach. The sun sets like an orange ball on the horizon. The waves slap the sand. The smell of saltwater stings the air. The beach is vacant. No sun to entice the sunbathers. Not enough light for the fishermen. So, aside from a few joggers and strollers, the gentleman is alone.
He carries a bucket in his bony hand. A bucket of shrimp. It's not for him. It's not for the fish. It's for the sea gulls.
He walks to an isolated pier cast in gold by the setting sun. He steps out to the end of the pier. The time has come for the weekly ritual.
He stands and waits.
Soon the sky becomes a mass of dancing dots. The evening silence gives way to the screeching of birds. They fill the sky and then cover the moorings. They are on a pilgrimage to meet the old man.
For a half hour or so, the bushy-browed, shoulder-bent gentleman will stand on the pier, surrounded by the birds of the sea, until his bucket is empty.
But even after the food is gone, his feathered friends still linger. They linger as if they're attracted to more than just food. They perch on his hat. They walk on the pier. And they all share a moment together.
The old man on the pier couldn't go a week without saying "thank you."
His name was Eddie Rickenbacker. If you were alive in October 1942, you probably remember the day that he was reported missing at sea.
He had been sent on a mission to deliver a message to Gen. Douglas MacArthur. With a handpicked crew in a B-17 known as the "Flying Fortress," he set off across the South Pacific. Somewhere the crew became lost, the fuel ran out, and the plane went down.
All eight crew members escaped into the life rafts. They battled the weather, the water, the sharks, and the sun. But most of all, they battled the hunger. After eight days, their rations were gone. They ran out of options. It would take a miracle for them to survive.
And a miracle occurred.
After an afternoon devotional service, the men said a prayer and tried to rest. As Rickenbacker was dozing with his hat over his eyes, something landed on his head. He would later say that he knew it was a sea gull. He didn't know how he knew; he just knew. That gull meant food . . . if he could catch it. And he did.
The flesh was eaten. The intestines were used as fish bait. And the crew survived.
What was a sea gull doing hundreds of miles away from land?
Only God knows.
But whatever the reason, Rickenbacker was thankful. As a result, every Friday evening this old captain walked to the pier, his bucket full of shrimp and his heart full of thanks.
We'd be wise to do the same. We've much in common with Rickenbacker. We, too, were saved by a Sacrificial Visitor.
We, too, were rescued by One who journeyed far from only God knows where.
And we, like the captain, have every reason to look into the sky . . . and worship.
From "In the Eye of the Storm"
By Max Lucado,
W Publishing Group, ISBN: 0849943256.
Used with permission
Max Lucado is pastor of Oak Hills Church in San Antonio, Texas, where he lives with his wife and three daughters.
Categories: daily-thoughts gratitude miracle thanksgiving faith
He carries a bucket in his bony hand. A bucket of shrimp. It's not for him. It's not for the fish. It's for the sea gulls.
He walks to an isolated pier cast in gold by the setting sun. He steps out to the end of the pier. The time has come for the weekly ritual.
He stands and waits.
Soon the sky becomes a mass of dancing dots. The evening silence gives way to the screeching of birds. They fill the sky and then cover the moorings. They are on a pilgrimage to meet the old man.
For a half hour or so, the bushy-browed, shoulder-bent gentleman will stand on the pier, surrounded by the birds of the sea, until his bucket is empty.
But even after the food is gone, his feathered friends still linger. They linger as if they're attracted to more than just food. They perch on his hat. They walk on the pier. And they all share a moment together.
The old man on the pier couldn't go a week without saying "thank you."
His name was Eddie Rickenbacker. If you were alive in October 1942, you probably remember the day that he was reported missing at sea.
He had been sent on a mission to deliver a message to Gen. Douglas MacArthur. With a handpicked crew in a B-17 known as the "Flying Fortress," he set off across the South Pacific. Somewhere the crew became lost, the fuel ran out, and the plane went down.
All eight crew members escaped into the life rafts. They battled the weather, the water, the sharks, and the sun. But most of all, they battled the hunger. After eight days, their rations were gone. They ran out of options. It would take a miracle for them to survive.
And a miracle occurred.
After an afternoon devotional service, the men said a prayer and tried to rest. As Rickenbacker was dozing with his hat over his eyes, something landed on his head. He would later say that he knew it was a sea gull. He didn't know how he knew; he just knew. That gull meant food . . . if he could catch it. And he did.
The flesh was eaten. The intestines were used as fish bait. And the crew survived.
What was a sea gull doing hundreds of miles away from land?
Only God knows.
But whatever the reason, Rickenbacker was thankful. As a result, every Friday evening this old captain walked to the pier, his bucket full of shrimp and his heart full of thanks.
We'd be wise to do the same. We've much in common with Rickenbacker. We, too, were saved by a Sacrificial Visitor.
We, too, were rescued by One who journeyed far from only God knows where.
And we, like the captain, have every reason to look into the sky . . . and worship.
From "In the Eye of the Storm"
By Max Lucado,
W Publishing Group, ISBN: 0849943256.
Used with permission
Max Lucado is pastor of Oak Hills Church in San Antonio, Texas, where he lives with his wife and three daughters.
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Categories: daily-thoughts gratitude miracle thanksgiving faith
posted by Danny Sutanto @ 4:04 AM
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