When I was the student pastor in Woodlawn, Kentucky, the biggest Sunday of the year was not Easter, not even Christmas. The crowning Sunday of the year was Memorial Day. The church owned a little cemetery and people came from near and far to remember their ancestors, eat fried chicken, and tell tall tales. It was such an important day of the year that I was never allowed to preach the sermon. We always had a guest preacher from Louisville or Lexington.

My, how times have changed. Who uses Memorial Day any more to remember? This is a day of fun in the sun, cruises on the lake, or a hike in the woods. But at the risk of nostalgia, that tastes good with the first bite but grows bitter with the second and third chew, I want to use this Memorial Sunday to remember.

I Thank My God Every Time I…