We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all God’s people— the faith and love that spring from the hope stored up for you in heaven and about which you have already heard in the true message of the gospel that has come to you. In the same way, the gospel is bearing fruit and growing throughout the whole world—just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and truly understood God’s grace. You learned it from Epaphras, our dear fellow servant, who is a faithful minister of Christ on our behalf, and who also told us of your love in the Spirit. For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
—Colossians 1:3-14

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Rescued Into Light
By Jennifer Kane

Thankfulness—
a seed not sown in the wild garden of the heart,
a discipline, a choice,
against the tide of wanting more,
expecting more.

Entitlement—
a creeping fog,
blinding us to the gifts already given:
the breath in our lungs,
the sun on our face,
the love that surrounds.

But we are called—
a different song upon our lips,
a different rhythm in our steps.
To pause,
to look upward,
to whisper, Thank You.

Each breath a resistance,
against the greedy whispers,
the insatiable desires.

Gratitude deepens,
a well drawing from the depths,
when I remember the price:
the crimson stain,
the broken body,
the sacrifice made.

For people like me,
who forget to bow,
to acknowledge the Giver,
who grasp with empty hands,
and rarely offer thanks.

He died,
for this forgetfulness,
this blindness,
this grasping hand.

And still,
patience flows,
a river unending,
washing over the ungrateful heart.

The Savior’s blood,
the coin of redemption,
the purchase of my freedom,
from the chains of darkness,
the prison of self.

Rescued,
lifted from the pit,
rescued from despair,
lifted into hope,
brought into the light,
a beacon shining bright,
illuminating the path.

How could I not,
with every fiber of my being,
with every beat of my heart,
live a life of gratitude?

My life—
a constant offering,
my prayers—
fragrant incense,
rising to the heavens,
a testament to His grace,
His mercy,
His unending love.

~~~~~

Scripture: Colossians 1:3-14

When Paul wrote to the Colossians, his words overflowed with gratitude: “We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you…” (Col. 1:3).

Gratitude was not an afterthought—it was his starting point. And that challenges me, because if I’m honest, I often struggle with ingratitude.

Romans 1:21 describes one of the darkest marks of a godless life: “For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him…” Ingratitude goes hand in hand with pride. When we stop thanking God, we begin to believe we’re self-sufficient, and our hearts slowly darken.

And let’s be real—this isn’t just “out there in the culture.” It’s in us too. I see it in myself. Jesus healed ten lepers, yet only one returned to say thank You (Luke 17:11–19). Too often, I’m like the nine. I’ve cried out for help, seen God’s answer, and then moved on with my life as if His mercy were ordinary.

But Jesus shows us ingratitude is more dangerous than leprosy. The good news is—there’s a cure.

I can’t count how many times I’ve prayed desperately, watched God come through, and then months later realized…I never thanked Him. That stings. But in Colossians 1:12, Paul reminds us of the cure: “…giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light.”

Here’s the twofold remedy I need to keep close:

1. Practice gratitude intentionally.
Thankfulness doesn’t come naturally, especially in a culture that prizes self and scoffs at humility. But Christians are called to live differently. Every time we pause to thank God—big or small—we are resisting a world of entitlement. Our gratitude becomes a protest, a holy act that makes us salt and light (Matt. 5:13).

2. Return to the cross daily.
Gratitude deepens when I remember the price Jesus paid. He died for people like me who forget to say thank You. And still, He is patient. When I come back to the cross, my pride and thanklessness are crucified. In their place rises a heart that can’t help but overflow with thanks.

The Savior’s blood was the currency for my redemption. He rescued me from the dominion of darkness and brought me into the kingdom of His beloved Son. How could I not live a life of gratitude? I will never have enough words to say thank You, but I can let thankfulness shape how I live, how I pray, and how I love others.

~~~~~

Father, forgive me for the times I’ve taken Your goodness for granted. Thank You for rescuing me from darkness and bringing me into the kingdom of Your Son. Fill me with the knowledge of Your will through the wisdom and understanding the Spirit gives, so that I may live a life worthy of You, bearing fruit in every good work. Strengthen me with Your power so I may endure with patience, and let thankfulness be the song of my heart. May my life testify that You are worthy of all praise. Thank you, Jesus, amen.

August 22 2025