24 Sermon Illustrations on Ingratitude

The only voice of ingratitude is, "Give, give!" But when the gift is once received, then, like the swine at his trough, it is silent and insatiable. In a word, the ungrateful person is a monster which is all throat and belly, — a kind of thoroughfare or common sewer for the good things of the world to pass into; and of whom, in respect of all kindnesses conferred on him, may be verified that observation of the lion's den, before which appeared the footsteps of many that had gone in thither, but no prints of any that ever came out thence. Dr. South.

Nine out of ten who benefit from Christ are unthankful. Love to Christ leads to thankfulness. Some are occupied more with their gifts than the Giver

The Staubach is a fall of remarkable magnificence, seeming to leap from heaven; its glorious stream reminds one of the abounding mercy which in a mighty torrent descends from above. In the winter, when the cold is severe, the water freezes at the foot of the fall, and rises up in huge icicles like stalagmites, until it reaches the fall itself, as though it sought to bind it in the same icy fetters. How like is this to the common conduct of men! Divine favours frozen by human ingratitude, are proudly lifted in rebellion against the God who gave them.

A man writing at the post office desk was approached by an older fellow with a post card in his hand. The old man said, "Sir, could you please address this post card for me?"

The man gladly did so, agreeing also to write a short message and sign the card for the man. Finally the younger man asked, "Now is there anything else I can do for you?"

The old fellow thought about it for a moment and said, "Yes, at the end could you just put, 'P.S. Please excuse the sloppy handwriting.'"

How often it is that we complain against those who do the most for us.

Few if any Americans have given as much to charity as John D. Rockefeller, Sr. Ironically, his generosity caused him many headaches and much heartache.

One day, Frederick Gates [in charge of organizing Rockefeller's charity efforts] remarked to Rockefeller that benevolence was its own reward, that the man who looked for gratitude would die embittered. "His only reply, uttered with deliberation and unwonted emphasis, was, 'DON'T I KNOW THAT?'"

One stormy night in Lake Michigan, a side-wheeler steamboat was rammed by another boat. The steamboat sank just a mile offshore from the village of Winnetka, Illinois. Out of 393 passengers on board, 279 drowned.

A man named Edward Spencer after seeing the situation unfold plunged into the lake and swam to the drowning people. He towed one person to shore and went for another. In all, he brought seventeen people to safety. However, the strain on this young man caused him to collapse. The nerves in his legs were so completely destroyed that he could never walk again. He was an invalid wheel chair victim for his entire life.

On his eightieth birthday, someone asked him to relate his most vivid memory of that dreadful day. He replied, "Not one of the seventeen returned to thank me."

Can you imagine what the Lord feels like when we show Him little gratitude for what He did for us?

In (Luke 17:11-19), Jesus healed ten people of leprosy. Out of the ten people who were healed only one person returned to thank Jesus. What did Jesus think about that?

Jesus asked, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner" (Lk. 17:17, 18).

With this comment, Jesus was expecting the other nine to also return and give Him thanks.

God expects us to be grateful and to express thanks to Him. The cross should compel us to give thanks to the Lord every single day of our lives for the great blessings that we received from the cross.

Source Unknown

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Another version from the Fredericksburg Collection:

Thankfulness seems to be a lost art today. Warren Wiersby illustrated this problem in his commentary on Colossians. He told about a ministerial student in Evanston, Illinois, who was part of a life-saving squad. In 1860, a ship went aground on the shore of Lake Michigan near Evanston, and Edward Spencer waded again and again into the frigid waters to rescue 17 passengers. In the process, his health was permanently damaged. Some years later at his funeral, it was noted that not one of the people he rescued ever thanked him.

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Our Daily Bread February 20, 1994

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Another version in Preaching Now newsletter, November 11, 2008:

One night many years ago, Ed Spencer, a student at a seminary near Lake Michigan, was awakened by shouts that there had been a shipwreck offshore from the campus. An excursion boat from the nearby Chicago harbor had collided with a freighter and was sinking. Spencer ran down to the lakeshore from which he could see lights from the boats. A strong swimmer, he plunged into the icy water and started searching for survivors.

For six hours Spencer swam out and back, pulling people ashore, battling stormy waves and powerful undertow. By dawn, he had personally rescued 15 people in as many trips. Exhausted, he sat down until someone spotted two more still in the water. Spencer dove in again and found a man and a woman clinging desperately to a piece of wreckage. He brought them in, too, and collapsed on the beach.

Fewer than one-fourth of the 400 passengers on that boat survived the shipwreck, 17 of them rescued by Ed Spencer. His own health, however, was irreparably damaged by his act of heroism, and he was never able to return to school, ultimately living out his days as an invalid.

Years later, a reporter doing a story on Great Lakes tragedies found Spencer as an old man in a nursing home in California and asked for his recollections of that night. He said bitterly, "The only thing I remember is that not one of the 17 ever thanked me."

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Michael Halleen, MONDAY MOMENT, 4/28/08)

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #9393]

In his book FOLK PSALMS OF FAITH, Ray Stedman tells of an experience H. A. Ironside had in a crowded restaurant. Just as Ironside was about to begin his meal, a man approached and asked if he could join him. Ironside invited him to have a seat. Then, as was his custom, Ironside bowed his head in prayer.

When he opened his eyes, the other man asked, “Do you have a headache?” Ironside replied, “No, I don’t.” The other man asked, “Well, is there something wrong with your food?” Ironside responded, “No, why?” “Well,” the man said, “I saw you sitting there with your head down and I thought you must be sick, or that there was something wrong with your food.” Ironside replied, “No, I was simply thanking God as I always do before I eat.”

The man said, “Oh, you’re one of those, are you? Well, I want you to know I never give thanks. I earn my money by the sweat of my brow and I don’t have to give thanks to anybody when I eat. I just start right in!”

Ironside said, “Yes, you’re just like my dog. That’s what he does too!”

Riches can be a handicap. A wealthy woman told her doctor she was frustrated by a restless desire for more and more things. He replied, "These are the usual symptoms of too much ease in the home and too little gratitude in the heart."

Thinking of writing a letter to God?

The address, according to those who regularly write to the Almighty, is “God, Jerusalem, Israel.” Alternatively you could try: “God, the Wailing Wall,” a reference to the Jewish holy site known as the Western Wall.

Either address will ensure your letter ends up in the sorting room of the Israeli post office's Dead Letters Department where it will be collected, placed in a velvet bag and posted to God through the cracks of the Western Wall.

Hundreds of people every year jot down their prayers, wishes or problems and mail their notes to the Holy City where the creed of the Dead Letter Department's postmen is to ensure that every piece of mail reaches its destination -- rain or shine. “We are going through a peak period at the moment,” said harried Dead Letters Department manager, Avi Yaniv.

The usual trickle of letters to God has become a torrent before Yom Kippur, the holiday where Jews atone for their sins. “Dear God...Once a long time ago I stole ashtrays from hotels and glasses with advertising logos. At the time I didn't think much about it,” wrote one woman. “Now I would like to ask for your forgiveness.”

Letters to Jesus and a greeting card celebrating the Jewish New Year addressed to “The Angels in Heaven” are also delivered to the Western Wall, one of Judaism's holiest sites, where Jews traditionally insert notes with prayers and wishes. “We squeeze the letters in between the gaps,” said Yaniv.

“DEAR GOD, HELP ME BECOME A DOZER DRIVER”

The deliveries to the Western Wall have been going on for years since the Dead Letters postmen decided that since there was no way to return the letters to the unknown senders, they might as well be delivered to the recipient - God.

The latest letters collected in a plush bag, normally used to store Jewish prayer shawls, come from as far as Australia, India, Ghana, France, Nigeria and the United States.

“Some people go to a shrink or a Rabbi and others write it down, put it in an envelope, slap on a stamp and write 'To God, Jerusalem, Israel',” said Yitzhak Rabihiya, spokesman for the Israeli postal department.

Some of the writers ask God for help sticking to a diet, beg for assistance holding a troubled marriage together, or fighting off the ravages of cancer. Others are just plain avaricious. “Dear God, Please grant me the millionaires life,” wrote one person.

Darryl from Tennessee had a slightly more humble request. “I will be happy if you employ me as one of your (bull)dozer operators in your company,” he wrote in his missive, in which he also requested “a nice job and a good wife.”

The Dead Letters Department workers were once so moved by a letter in which the author listed a litany of personal problems that they collected $1,000 of $1,200 he requested from God in his letter and sent it to him.

“Two months later they received another letter from the same man written to God,” said Rabihiya. “They thought he was probably sending his thanks. But at the end of the letter he wrote: 'Thank you for the money but please next time don't send it through the postal service. Those thieves stole 700 shekels!”

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Have you ever thought about what life was like for your great-grandparents? If you really have, you'd agree with Gregg Easterbrook of the Brookings Institution that our great-grandparents would consider the world we live in today to be some kind of utopia.

Yet, all of the progress we enjoy hasn't made Americans any happier. In fact, the opposite is true — it's made us more unhappy.

In his new book, THE PROGRESS PARADOX: HOW LIFE GETS BETTER WHILE PEOPLE FEEL WORSE, Easterbrook begins by telling us just how good we have it: The average Westerner lives better than 99.4 percent of all the human beings who have ever lived.

For instance, life expectancy has nearly doubled in the past century and continues to increase.[1] Real per-capita income has doubled since 1960. But even that understates the rise in income, since the price of food and many durable goods keeps falling.

Our standard of living has risen to levels our great-grandparents couldn't have imagined. In the period following World War II, the average new American home was 1,100 square feet; today it's 2,300. For most of our history, the average home had one room for every two people; today there are two rooms for every one person.

By any measure of affluence — health care, leisure, technology — the average American enjoys a quality of life beyond anyone's wildest dreams even a few decades ago.

We have more of everything except, of course, happiness. The percentage of Americans who characterize themselves as “happy” hasn't changed since the 1950s, and the percentage of those describing themselves as “very happy” is down and continues to decline.

During the same period, the percentage of Americans and Europeans who suffer a bout of depression has climbed to 25 percent and shows no signs of abating. An estimated 7 percent of all Americans suffer at least one incidence of major, debilitating depression a year.

For some people, depression is the product of genetic and other biological factors. But for many others, being depressed in the midst of unprecedented prosperity can be traced to spiritual, cultural, and moral factors. For the former, medical treatment is indicated. For the latter, what's needed is a change in worldview.

And a good place to start is a sense of gratitude. As Easterbrook tells us, the Roman orator Cicero called gratitude not only the “greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.” Similarly, the philosopher Immanuel Kant called ingratitude the “essence of vileness.”

Knowing that we are better off than nearly every other human who has ever lived should inspire, as it does with Easterbrook, a daily prayer of thanksgiving, not a sense of dread. And it should prompt us to generosity, rather than a desire for more.

For that to happen, of course, we must first overcome the cultural factors that contribute to our dread and unease. I'll tell you about these over the next few days. Be sure to keep reading.

While there are certainly reasons to worry about the direction of American life, there is also so much to be thankful for, and Christians should be able to distinguish one from the other.

FOR FURTHER READING AND INFORMATION:

• Gregg Easterbrook, The Progress Paradox: How Life Gets Better While People Feel Worse (Random House, 2003). Call 1-877-322-5527 to order ($25).

• Gregg Easterbrook, “Are we stressed to excess?“ Charlotte Observer (from the Los Angeles Times), 27 February 2004.

• BreakPoint Commentary No. 030930, “First Things First: The Pursuit of Happiness.”

• BreakPoint Commentary No. 030923, “Hedonists R Us: Darwinism and Morality.”

• BreakPoint Commentary No. 981109, “More than a Feeling: What Dreams May Come.” (Archived commentary; free registration required.)

• “State of the World 2004: The Consumer Society,” Worldwatch Institute, January 2004.

• Gina Dalfonzo, “Stuff Happens,” BreakPoint Online, 12 January 2004.

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Note by Garth Hutchinson:

1. This is a bit of an overstatement. Complete expectation of life in years at birth and at age 5 according to various historical studies are:

Birth Age 5 TABLE AND DATE

25.18 40.84 Northampton, 1783

38.72 51.25 Carlisle, 1815

41.45 51.13 American Experience, 1861

53.55 58.29 American Men (5), 1918

62.33 59.26 1941 CSO

68.30 64.19 1958 CSO

So it is apparent that there has been a lot of improvement in child mortality. Tables since about 1970 are distinct by gender. At 2000 the expectation of life at birth was about 70 for males, and 75 for females, varying considerably by country and region. R.G.H. – FCIA]

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Copyright (c) 2004 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

We are hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair. —2 Corinthians 4:8

The man got in trouble for helping someone. He had been raised in a rural area, so he was in the habit of stopping to assist troubled motorists. But when he stopped in a large city to offer help to someone who was stranded, he was shot, robbed, and left for dead. The story has a happy ending, though. The man recovered from his injuries, and he says he has gained a deeper confidence in God. He still believes that helping others is the right thing to do.

Now, I’m not suggesting that we stop for every stranded motorist. Caution is always wise. But the New Testament shows that when we help others, we are bound to run into trouble—especially when what we offer is the good news of the gospel. Sooner or later we will meet with resistance. Yet this trouble will have a happy ending. The apostle Paul, for example, was battered, bruised, hated, and harassed. But he expressed the heart of a man who was doing exactly what he wanted to do. He was working with God for the spiritual rescue of people who would someday fill eternity with their appreciation (2 Corinthians 4:15). He knew that in the end the Lord Himself would confirm the eternal value of his efforts. And that was worth all the trouble he encountered helping others. —MRDII

If I can do some good today,

If I can help in what I say,

If by my deeds Your love convey—

Lord, just show me how. —Brandt

The rewards of witnessing are well worth the risks.

Thinking of writing a letter to God?

The address, according to those who regularly write to the Almighty, is “God, Jerusalem, Israel.” Alternatively you could try: “God, the Wailing Wall,” a reference to the Jewish holy site known as the Western Wall.

Either address will ensure your letter ends up in the sorting room of the Israeli post office's Dead Letters Department where it will be collected, placed in a velvet bag and posted to God through the cracks of the Western Wall.

Hundreds of people every year jot down their prayers, wishes or problems and mail their notes to the Holy City where the creed of the Dead Letter Department's postmen is to ensure that every piece of mail reaches its destination -- rain or shine. “We are going through a peak period at the moment,” said harried Dead Letters Department manager, Avi Yaniv.

The usual trickle of letters to God has become a torrent before Yom Kippur, the holiday where Jews atone for their sins. “Dear God...Once a long time ago I stole ashtrays from hotels and glasses with advertising logos. At the time I didn't think much about it,” wrote one woman. “Now I would like to ask for your forgiveness.”

Letters to Jesus and a greeting card celebrating the Jewish New Year addressed to “The Angels in Heaven” are also delivered to the Western Wall, one of Judaism's holiest sites, where Jews traditionally insert notes with prayers and wishes. “We squeeze the letters in between the gaps,” said Yaniv.

“DEAR GOD, HELP ME BECOME A DOZER DRIVER”

The deliveries to the Western Wall have been going on for years since the Dead Letters postmen decided that since there was no way to return the letters to the unknown senders, they might as well be delivered to the recipient - God.

The latest letters collected in a plush bag, normally used to store Jewish prayer shawls, come from as far as Australia, India, Ghana, France, Nigeria and the United States.

“Some people go to a shrink or a Rabbi and others write it down, put it in an envelope, slap on a stamp and write 'To God, Jerusalem, Israel',” said Yitzhak Rabihiya, spokesman for the Israeli postal department.

Some of the writers ask God for help sticking to a diet, beg for assistance holding a troubled marriage together, or fighting off the ravages of cancer. Others are just plain avaricious. “Dear God, Please grant me the millionaires life,” wrote one person.

Darryl from Tennessee had a slightly more humble request. “I will be happy if you employ me as one of your (bull)dozer operators in your company,” he wrote in his missive, in which he also requested “a nice job and a good wife.”

The Dead Letters Department workers were once so moved by a letter in which the author listed a litany of personal problems that they collected $1,000 of $1,200 he requested from God in his letter and sent it to him.

“Two months later they received another letter from the same man written to God,” said Rabihiya. “They thought he was probably sending his thanks. But at the end of the letter he wrote: 'Thank you for the money but please next time don't send it through the postal service. Those thieves stole 700 shekels!”

*