As I was reflecting on Psalm 92 this morning and the benefits of thanksgiving, a pastor friend texted me with a simple, honest request:
That prayer is more than a personal need. It is the cry of every heart that has ever felt the weight of yesterday’s failures pressing from one side and the uncertainty of tomorrow pressing from the other. We know the feeling well. We live much of our lives crucified between two thieves—regret on the left and anxiety on the right—while the only day God has actually given us hangs dying in the middle.
Psalm 92 opens with a life giving declaration:
Why is it good? One key reason is this: Thanksgiving keeps us from crucifying today between those two thieves.
When we begin the morning by deliberately declaring the steadfast love of the Lord, we refuse to let yesterday’s regrets and failures set the agenda. The past is real. Some of it is painful. Some of it is shameful. But it is not sovereign. God’s ḥesed, His loyal, covenant-keeping love, is greater than our worst moments. Naming that love in the morning is an act of spiritual defiance against the tyranny of regret. We are saying, “Yesterday does not get to define this day. The steadfast love of the Lord does.”
When we end the day by declaring His faithfulness, we refuse to hand tomorrow over to worry. Tomorrow’s troubles are real enough. Jesus Himself acknowledged them. Yet He also said, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matthew 6:34). Thanksgiving at night is the practical way we entrust those future troubles to the God who has already proven faithful. We are saying, “I do not need to solve tomorrow tonight. The God who was faithful today will still be faithful then.”
This habit of morning and evening thanksgiving slowly re-roots us. Psalm 92 goes on to describe the righteous as people who flourish like palm trees and grow like cedars of Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord. They still bear fruit in old age. They are ever full of sap and green. That kind of lasting fruitfulness does not come from a life spent reliving the past or rehearsing the future. It comes from people who have learned to live in the present tense of God’s faithfulness—day by day, morning by morning, night by night.
The pastor’s prayer is the right prayer. Staying in the present and trusting God for tomorrow’s trouble is not a matter of will power. It is the fruit of a heart trained by thanksgiving. Every time we declare His steadfast love in the morning and His faithfulness by night, we take the nails out of the hands of those two thieves. We lift today down from the cross and place it back into the hands of the only One who can redeem it.
It is good to give thanks. Not merely because it feels better. But because it keeps us flourishing in the only day we actually have.
“Please pray for God to speak a word to me about staying in the present and trusting Him for tomorrow’s trouble.”
That prayer is more than a personal need. It is the cry of every heart that has ever felt the weight of yesterday’s failures pressing from one side and the uncertainty of tomorrow pressing from the other. We know the feeling well. We live much of our lives crucified between two thieves—regret on the left and anxiety on the right—while the only day God has actually given us hangs dying in the middle.
Psalm 92 opens with a life giving declaration:
“It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O Most High; to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night.”
Why is it good? One key reason is this: Thanksgiving keeps us from crucifying today between those two thieves.
When we begin the morning by deliberately declaring the steadfast love of the Lord, we refuse to let yesterday’s regrets and failures set the agenda. The past is real. Some of it is painful. Some of it is shameful. But it is not sovereign. God’s ḥesed, His loyal, covenant-keeping love, is greater than our worst moments. Naming that love in the morning is an act of spiritual defiance against the tyranny of regret. We are saying, “Yesterday does not get to define this day. The steadfast love of the Lord does.”
When we end the day by declaring His faithfulness, we refuse to hand tomorrow over to worry. Tomorrow’s troubles are real enough. Jesus Himself acknowledged them. Yet He also said, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matthew 6:34). Thanksgiving at night is the practical way we entrust those future troubles to the God who has already proven faithful. We are saying, “I do not need to solve tomorrow tonight. The God who was faithful today will still be faithful then.”
This habit of morning and evening thanksgiving slowly re-roots us. Psalm 92 goes on to describe the righteous as people who flourish like palm trees and grow like cedars of Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord. They still bear fruit in old age. They are ever full of sap and green. That kind of lasting fruitfulness does not come from a life spent reliving the past or rehearsing the future. It comes from people who have learned to live in the present tense of God’s faithfulness—day by day, morning by morning, night by night.
The pastor’s prayer is the right prayer. Staying in the present and trusting God for tomorrow’s trouble is not a matter of will power. It is the fruit of a heart trained by thanksgiving. Every time we declare His steadfast love in the morning and His faithfulness by night, we take the nails out of the hands of those two thieves. We lift today down from the cross and place it back into the hands of the only One who can redeem it.
It is good to give thanks. Not merely because it feels better. But because it keeps us flourishing in the only day we actually have.
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