I have made, and I will bear;

I will carry and I will save.

We get ourselves into very serious trouble, do we not, so that our anguish becomes enormous and our situation desperate. We fall into slavery to the drive for success, or to some easy immorality of our society; we imprison ourselves in our own selfishness, or in resentful grudges and smoldering hatred. And there is God on the spot, as He was at the first there in Egypt, meddling in the politics of liberation: redeeming us, paying the ransom note, buying us back out of trouble, and giving us the freedom to make yet one more new beginning.

We wander down some tempting path, just nibbling our way lost, like poor dumb sheep, until we are hopeless, bereft in some dark valley of the soul. And there comes the Good Shepherd searching us out and guiding us back to the fold, gathering up those lambs in His bosom who are too weak to make it on their own.

We find ourselves overwhelmed by powers and forces and violence which we just cannot control, until it seems that the world has gone mad, that Evil is on its awful throne, and that death is creeping into our windows, as Jeremiah saw in his apocalyptic vision. And there stands our God victorious, sovereign over the grave, His royal scepter still in one hand, and His world firmly held in the other. Our Father and Shepherd, we discover, is also a King, who rules and cannot be defeated.

That is what we have in common, dear mixed multitude of God -- a Lord who remembers us and sees and hears and knows, and stoops to our condition, a God who has come down to deliver us out of all our affliction.

And because that is true, you and I here today have something to be thankful about together. Of course we are grateful for this great country, but it is not finally the American way of life that we are gathered her to celebrate -- for many that way has become nothing but a continual exercise in quiet desperation. It is not really the abundance of our goods or the growth of the Gross National Product that can give a man or a woman here the warmth of a grateful heart. Our things can enslave us as easily as they can bring us joy, and they finally may be the cause of our condemnation when we have to give that last accounting of what we have done with our lives.

Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippian Church, "I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want. I can do all things in him who strengthens me."

That is not the statement of a man who is worried over the economic health and security of the Roman empire, or even of his own pocketbook. It is not the statement of one who is free from affliction and trouble -- Paul suffered, right along with the rest of us. It is the confession of a man who has learned that nothing can separate him from the love of God who cares daily for him.

And so Paul can wish for the Philippians that which he has already found himself -- "the peace of God which passes understanding." And he can urge upon them that mood of life which belongs only to those children of God who know the mercy of their heavenly Father: "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, Rejoice."

God has remembered us. He has seen and heard and known our suffering. He has stooped down to deliver us out of all our affliction. Therefore, give thanks to Him this day. Bless His name. Rejoice! And again I say, Rejoice!