This weekend, many will gather for a Thanksgiving feast, perhaps with family or friends, here at home or farther away. And isn’t it interesting how quickly a conversation about holiday plans can turn into a discussion about the feast itself? We talk about what we most look forward to, what we wish there were more of, and what we could quite happily do without.
I, for example, love turnip. If I could have only one vegetable ever, that would be my pick. My sister Eliza, on the other hand, will tell you that turnip has no place on any plate. Ever.
And then there are the discussions about how certain foods ought to be prepared. Turkey in the oven or deep fryer? Pies made from scratch or ready-made? And turnip? Well, there is no discussion. It takes brown sugar and butter. Just like Grammie Velda made it.
It’s funny how so many of the foods we enjoy are connected to people and memories. A particular dish can remind us of someone who prepared it, or a table where we once gathered and shared stories and laughter. Some of those people may be sitting beside us this Thanksgiving. Others may be far away. And, sadly, others are no longer with us.
What nourishes us at these gatherings is not simply what goes into our bellies, but also what finds its way into our hearts. The preparation, the welcome, the conversation, and even the familiar disagreements can become expressions of love and belonging.
Perhaps that is why Thanksgiving can be such a tender time of year. While some tables will be filled with familiar faces and joyful conversation, others will have an empty chair. Some will be experiencing their first Thanksgiving without someone they love. Others may no longer be able to gather or celebrate as they once did. Traditions change. Families change. Circumstances change. Schedules change. We change. And sometimes those changes come before we are ready.
Gratitude, when life has changed, can be complicated. We may be thankful for memories and yet ache for the person who helped create them. We may appreciate today’s blessings while longing for something that belonged to yesterday. We may even wonder what there is to be thankful for when life has become difficult or painfully different from what we had hoped.
Perhaps that is why I found myself drawn to Psalm 28. What strikes me is that the psalmist’s thanksgiving does not begin with an abundance of good things. It begins with a cry for help. He calls out to God, speaks of his struggles, and makes his requests. Yet, even before we know how his circumstances have changed, he gives thanks.
It brings to mind a thought shared by the Danish theologian Søren Kierkegaard: the purpose of prayer is not to change God, but to change the one who prays. For the psalmist, knowing that God has heard him makes all the difference.
“The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts.”
There is something profoundly reassuring about that declaration. Our thanksgiving need not depend upon everything in life being as we would wish. It is rooted in the faithfulness of God, who hears our prayers, knows our struggles, receives our joys, and remains with us through every changing season.
Thanksgiving is not simply about counting our blessings, though that is certainly worthwhile. It is also about remembering the One from whom all blessings flow. In Christ, we encounter a love that does not depend upon our circumstances, a mercy that does not run out, and a hope that reaches beyond the grave and beyond what we can presently see or understand.
We can have endless discussions about what makes a proper or the best Thanksgiving feast, and who makes the best pie. And, of course, there are the leftovers! But eventually, the turkey can no longer be transformed into something else, or we tire of the leftovers, the week resumes, and we tuck away cherished memories, and turn our attention to something else.
The goodness and grace of God, however, are not confined to a single feast or season. God’s mercies are new every morning. His grace meets us in ordinary moments, unexpected kindnesses, the encouragement of another person, and the strength to face a difficult day. Even when we cannot see what lies ahead, God remains at work, inviting us to recognize his presence and allow his grace to shape the way we live.
This Thanksgiving Sunday and each Sunday thereafter, I invite you to join us for worship at 11 a.m. Come with your gratitude and your grief, your joys and concerns, your memories of yesterday and hopes for tomorrow. Come whether your heart is overflowing with thanksgiving or you are struggling to find the words. For the God who heard the psalmist’s pleading hears yours as well. The God who was his strength and shield remains ours today.
May our thanksgiving be more than the words we speak or the songs we sing. May it be reflected in the welcome we extend, the generosity we share, and the love and worship we offer in Christ’s name.
Should you wish to express your thanksgiving by supporting Christ’s ministries through St. James, special Thanksgiving offering envelopes are available at the church entrance. Your gifts help us share God’s love and care within our congregation and wider community. You may designate your gift for a particular ministry, such as “missions” or the “roof,” by noting it on the envelope. Otherwise, it will support our general ministries.
However you mark Thanksgiving this year, may you discover, again and again, that even as seasons change and tables are set and cleared, the faithfulness of God remains.
Wishing you a blessed Thanksgiving!
Rev. Wendy