I’m thankful for the pink and white tulips in a vase on the table beside me.
I’m thankful for exquisite farm eggs.
I am thankful for Christ’s righteousness counted as mine, because the older I get, the more I see that all of my acts of obedience are tainted by motives that are less than perfect. Yep, and there’s more: The older I get, the more I see that no matter how old I get, that’s still going to be the case. If I had to produce my own righteous record, I’d be in big trouble. I’d have no hope, none, and by that I mean diddly-squat. But I do have hope—hope because God judges me “in Christ.” Instead of my own big fat zero, God looks at Christ’s perfection and sees it as mine. To which I say, “Thank you, Lord, for the sure hope of imputed righteousness!”
On Thursdays throughout this year, I plan to post a few thoughts of thanksgiving along with Kim at the Upward Call and others.