When the hour came, He reclined at the table, and the apostles with Him. Then He said to them, “I have fervently desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” Then He took a cup, and after giving thanks, He said, “Take this and share it among yourselves. For I tell you, from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” And He took bread, gave thanks, broke it, gave it to them, and said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in rememberance of me.”

Luke 22:14-19

Easter is upon us, a time of gratitude to our Savior for the sacrifice given and celebration of His resurrection and the promise of eternal life for all who believe and follow Him. For believers, we know the account of the crucifixion and resurrection inside-out, for it is the basis of our faith and belief, our very reason for being.

Yet no matter how well we think we know the story, the Holy Spirit is faithful in consistently teaching us more, opening our eyes to something new or reminding us of details we may have forgotten or failed to notice.

This morning as I was continuing my study through the book of Luke, I was once again reading the account of the very first Lord’s supper, which just so happened to be the last supper for the apostles with their Teacher. And as I was reading, I was struck by the fact that Jesus gave thanks when taking the cup, and then again gave thanks before breaking the bread.

He knew. Yet He gave thanks.

Suffering loomed ahead. Yet He gave thanks.

That fruit of the vine in that cup was symbolic of the physical blood He was about to shed. Yet He gave thanks.

The breaking of bread was an image of the impending breaking of His body. Yet He gave thanks.

He sat and shared with the one who would hand Him over to the enemy within hours. Yet He gave thanks.

He taught and had communion with those who would turn their backs and desert Him in His darkest hour. Yet He gave thanks.

He knew the time had come. He knew the pain and anguish that was coming, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Yet He gave thanks.

So often we go through this life with divided hearts, giving thanks to God when times are good, but falling into a pit of discouragement and despair when things go wrong, thinking He can’t possibly understand what we’re facing. We forget that the Son of God was very much human and had feelings and emotions and suffered beyond what we could ever imagine. He experienced physical pain to the fullest on the cross. He was mentally beat down as He was interrogated and turned over to the crowd hurling insults at Him. He was emotionally tried as His closest friends denied and deserted Him. And in the darkest of darks, He felt the anguish of separation from the Father.

Yet He gave thanks.

In the face of all that was to come, He chose to give thanks to God the Father.

How often do we model this kind of gratitude in our own lives? Sure, it’s easy to give thanks on Resurrection Sunday as we celebrate victory and the conquering of death. It’s easy to be thankful when the grave is empty and the sun is shining and we see that the ending is in fact good.

But what about in the face of the unknown? Do we give thanks when we’re up against pain and suffering and betrayal? Can we be grateful when the tears won’t stop flowing and our hearts are aching? Will we be thankful when the clouds roll in, the sky is dark, and our vision is clouded? Are we full of thanksgiving when trust has been tried, when gratitude requires sacrifice, when praise comes with pain?

Jesus did. So certainly we can try.

Celebrate Sunday, but don’t forget to keep praising on Monday.