I see what has happened, and it makes my own soul leap. The wages you had looked for but that seemed held back, they have come, and come with the fragrance of extra kindness. You are looking at that unexpected increase like a child who finds a cherry on top of the cake, and your heart is bubbling up, "Thank you, Jesus Christ." And no words could be more fitting.
Do you know what you are doing? You are seeing the Lord's own hand in the common coin of the day. The money that passes through our fingers so often seems to come and go without a second thought, but when we have been waiting anxiously and the provision arrives at last, it comes to us not as a mere transaction but as a gift laid on the table by the great Householder himself. He has taught us to pray, "Give us this day our daily bread," and you have just received part of today's loaf, still warm from his oven. The figure on the check is more than a number; it is a love-letter, penned by the Father who remembers his children when they sit at breakfast. I have sometimes thought that God loves to hide his tenderness in our most ordinary affairs, the grocery bill, the rent money, the unexpected back pay, so that when we look back across our life we see bright spots everywhere, little miracles attached to the dreariest ledgers.
When you thank him out loud, as you are doing, you are one of the few who do not forget. Ten lepers felt the sudden thrill of healing skin, but only one turned back to fall at the Healer's feet. You are that one this morning, kneeling by the Master and saying, "Thank you, Jesus Christ." Let your tongue keep its liberty. A silent faith robs others of a blessing and, worse, it robs God of his glory. This little deliverance may be spoken of in days to come; tell your own soul what the Lord has done. Pin it on the wall of your memory as a motto for future need: "He has given me the back pay, he shall surely give me all that I need."
And as you rejoice over the restoration of missed wages, let it lift your eyes to a sweeter restoration. The same Lord who saw that your late pay should find you at last, saw your soul lost and wandering and found you by his cross. The hand that nudged the accounts in your favor is the hand with the nail-print. The real back pay, the wages of sin that you could never cover, he took upon himself, and he gave you in return the wages of his own righteousness. That is the treasure that cannot be delayed or confiscated, safe in the bank of heaven.
A man in perilous times once wrote words of brave faith where his eyes would meet them every day, something like this: "I shall not die, but live, and proclaim the works of the Lord." You, too, have seen the works of the Lord in your own little patch of life. Speak it out then. Tell yourself again tomorrow when the alarm clock rings: he has been good. Tell yourself next week when a new worry knocks: he who found my back pay will not miss my next need. Muzzle that hound of unbelief that yaps so loudly in our ears; give the floor to faith, whose lips drop myrrh and sweetness.
May the Lord Jesus, who has turned your waiting into laughing, now keep you in the sunshine of his face. May every glance at your accounts be a fresh glimpse of his care. And when the next trial comes, may this small mercy be a pile of stones you can point to, saying, "Thus far the Lord has helped me." So may you go on, until all the riches of glory break upon you and gratitude needs no words but a never-ending song.
Thank you, dear Savior, for watching over your child in the ordinary pathways of work and wages. Thank you for the joy that now sings in this heart, for the relief that has come, and for the extra measure that makes the cup run over. Keep this dear one ever near to your side, and make every provision a window into your never-failing love. And by your Spirit write this truth deep into the soul: you who did not spare your own Son will with him freely give us all things. Amen.