Learning to Be Thankful: A Story from Cordell Baker

It was 1953 when my wife and I really began to enjoy the blessing of being thankful. We had left the security of a steady job with General Electric in Linton, Indiana. At the call of a seven-member Church in Bridgeport, Washington, we had moved two thirds of the way across the continent at our own expense to pastor a church that would pay us $10 per week. In addition a larger church had promised us another $45 per month. The rest would have to come by a secondary job. When we left Indiana we had only enough money to get us to Wyoming. But God had supplied along the way and on my 23rd birthday we had arrived at our new place of ministry.

For the first month, our only bed was a 39 inch rollaway that was so uncomfortable, we took turns sleeping on the floor. Our household furniture was almost nonexistent. But we were or at least thought we were truly grateful for the things God has brought into our lives. We would go to our mailbox and often find "fellowship" to supply our needs. Or the area driver for a large baking concern would meet us and load us up with bread. Just one funds were getting really low there would be work available in one of the local orchards. We were growing to love our people and our place of ministry and I thought we were really learning to be thankful and by most standards most who knew us would have agreed.

Then in November I was invited by First Baptist Church in Wenatchee to speak at the Thanksgiving service. It turned out to be also a food shower for us, for which we were truly grateful. But the highlight of the service, I will never forget. We had just sung the old song count your blessings. The congregation sat down and from the back of the auditorium, I heard the voice of a man who began literally to count his blessings as a songwriter exhorted, naming them one by one. The crowd became silent and we listened in wonder as this saint of God spoke. I turned to see who it was that spoke so eloquently and to my surprise, I saw an ancient gentleman with a white cane speaking. I don't remember a thing about the sermon I preached. And probably no one else remembered much of it either. As badly as I wanted to inspire that congregation to greater thankfulness, my most eloquent words were as nothing compared to the words that were spoken and the lesson I learned that day from that dear blind saint.

On one occasion Jesus healed 10 lepers. One of them turned back to express his thanks. Jesus commended the grateful leper, but he asked the question. "Where are the nine? " (Luke 17:17). I pray that God will help me to always follow the steps of the one and never fall into the path of the nine.