“Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity.” Colossians 3:14 (NRSV)
Here is the link for Sunday, October 4, 2026 worship service: https://youtu.be/Z9jyBx7Ha_o
Sunday, October 11 – Worship starts at 9:30 a.m. Joint worship with Good Shepherd Anglican as we rejoice at 15 years of sharing and caring together. POTLUCK BRUNCH to follow. Everyone is welcome.
Scripture to Ponder & Prayer
Week of Thanksgiving Sunday
Texts this week:
Deuteronomy 8:7–18; Psalm 65; 2 Corinthians 9:6–15; Luke 17:11–19
Pondering: Deuteronomy 8:7–18 & Luke 17:11–19
As I think about Thanksgiving, I keep coming back to the ground beneath our feet.
We walk upon it every day, mostly without noticing. Yet the soil carries memory. It receives seed, rain, fallen leaves, footsteps, labour, grief, and generations of life. From the earth comes so much of what sustains us, and still we can live as though food simply appears on shelves and abundance begins with us.
Deuteronomy offers a different vision. It speaks of a land of streams and springs, wheat and barley, vines and trees—a land where people may eat their fill. But then comes a warning: when you have eaten and are satisfied, do not forget God and say, “My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth.”
Perhaps forgetting is one of the great spiritual dangers of abundance.
We forget the soil. We forget the rain. We forget the labour of human hands. We forget the long history of the land. We forget that we are creatures before we are consumers.
And perhaps most importantly, we forget that the earth does not belong to us in the absolute sense. We belong to the earth, and ultimately the earth belongs to God.
The biblical vision of creation is not primarily about ownership. It is about relationship. The land is gift, but gift does not mean possession without responsibility. Gift creates relationship. Gift invites gratitude. And gratitude carries obligations of care, justice, restraint, and sharing.
Psalm 65 imagines God visiting the earth and watering it abundantly. The valleys are covered with grain; the meadows clothe themselves with flocks. Creation itself seems to rejoice.
I find that image beautiful because it reminds me that God’s abundance is not the same as human accumulation.
God’s abundance is enoughness. It is life shared.
Seed becoming bread. Rain entering soil. Creatures dwelling within ecosystems of dependence. Nothing truly lives alone.
Yet much of our world has been shaped by another ideology—the belief that creation exists primarily for our use. Forests become timber, rivers become resources, animals become commodities, and land becomes property.
But what happens when we begin to see creation not as an object, but as a community to which we belong?
Theologian Sallie McFague invited Christians to imagine the world as the “body of God”—not because creation is God, but because such an image asks us to recognize the sacredness of material life. If the earth bears the presence of God, then how we treat soil, water, air, creatures, and one another becomes a spiritual question.
Thanksgiving, then, cannot simply be gratitude for what is on our table. It must also ask: What kind of relationship do we have with the earth that provides the table?
Luke tells us that ten people are healed, but only one returns to give thanks. He stops. He notices. He turns back.
Perhaps gratitude begins with that turning.
Turning from entitlement to wonder. From possession to relationship. From extraction to care. From “I earned this” to “I have received.”
The soil beneath our feet quietly challenges our illusion of self-sufficiency. We cannot manufacture rain. We cannot command a seed to germinate. We cannot create life from nothing.
We participate in mysteries we did not begin. So perhaps Thanksgiving invites us to stand upon the earth with greater humility. To ask whose land we inhabit. To remember the generations who cared for it before us. To recognize farmers and labourers whose hands bring food to our tables. To notice communities suffering most deeply from environmental destruction. And to ask whether our gratitude is changing the way we live. For if creation is gift, thanksgiving cannot end with “Thank you.”
It must become a way of living gently upon the earth.
Prayer for the Week
Creator God,
ground us again in the sacred earth beneath our feet.
Awaken us to the abundance we did not create—
soil and seed, rain and sunlight,
rivers and forests, creatures and communities.
Forgive us when gratitude becomes entitlement,
when abundance becomes accumulation,
and when creation becomes something merely to consume.
Teach us to receive without exploiting,
to enjoy without possessing,
to share without fear,
and to walk gently upon the earth.
May our thanksgiving become justice,
our gratitude become generosity,
and our faith become care
for this beautiful and wounded creation
in which you have given us life. Amen.
Sources used:
McFague, Sallie. The Body of God: An Ecological Theology. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993.
The United Church of Canada. A New Creed. 1968; revised 1980 and 1995.
The United Church of Canada. A Song of Faith. 2006.
