Give Thanks to God Our Father
When Gratitude Becomes More Than a Holiday
Thanksgiving has a peculiar way of becoming one of the least thankful days of the year. Picture it: you've battled the grocery store crowds, wrestled with a stubborn frozen turkey, peeled mountains of potatoes, and navigated the minefield of family dynamics. Just when you think you've pulled off the perfect meal, someone suggests going around the table to share what everyone is thankful for—and you can practically feel the collective eye roll.
It's ironic, isn't it? We dedicate an entire day to gratitude, yet somehow end up stressed, stuffed, and slightly resentful before dessert arrives.
But what if we've been approaching gratitude all wrong? What if thankfulness isn't meant to be a feeling we wait for, but a practice we choose—especially when life feels anything but perfect?
The Square Pie Thanksgiving
Consider a first-time Thanksgiving host in 2015, full of confidence and Pinterest-inspired dreams. The turkey remained stubbornly frozen despite days in the fridge. The only available pie pan was square (yes, a square pumpkin pie). The microwave died on Thanksgiving morning. Then, in a plot twist worthy of a sitcom, the plumbing failed completely—toilets overflowing, bathtub filling mysteriously, with three children, four adults, and multiple dogs in the house.
There were buckets. There were frantic calls to plumbers. There were tears.
This wasn't the Martha Stewart moment anyone had envisioned. In that chaos, gratitude felt impossible. Throwing a pity party seemed like the only reasonable response. Yet this disaster reveals something profound: we've mistaken gratitude for a feeling rather than a discipline. We wait to feel thankful instead of choosing to be thankful.
A Different Kind of Thanksgiving
Fast forward ten years. Same person, completely different story.
One month before Thanksgiving, a medical emergency strikes. Loss of consciousness. Ambulance. Emergency room. Six blood transfusions. Emergency surgery. Days in the CCU. The physical trauma was significant, but the real battle began at home—not just the physical recovery, but the mental and emotional aftermath.
The what-ifs creeping in during quiet moments. The replaying images. The guilt of watching loved ones carry unexpected burdens. The stark awareness of how close everything came to ending.
But somewhere in week two of recovery, between pain medication and small bites of applesauce, something shifted. A realization emerged: gratitude doesn't magically appear when things get easier. Gratitude must be chosen intentionally, daily, sometimes hourly.
It's a discipline. A holy practice. A decision to look for God even when heaviness tries to obscure Him.
And slowly, gently, a whisper: You're still here. I'm not finished with you. My love endures forever.
The Heartbeat of Scripture
Psalm 136 reads like a holy heartbeat, pulsing with the same refrain twenty-six times: "His love endures forever."
The psalm begins: "Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures forever."
Notice it doesn't say give thanks because life is good. It says give thanks because God is good. That's a crucial distinction.
If we base thankfulness on how we feel, gratitude will fluctuate like Oklahoma weather—sunny one moment, freezing the next. But when we base thankfulness on who God is—His goodness, mercy, faithfulness, love—gratitude becomes steady, not situational.
The psalm continues through Israel's history: God made the heavens and earth. His love endures forever. He brought Israel out of slavery. His love endures forever. He parted the Red Sea. His love endures forever. He led them through the wilderness. His love endures forever.
It's as if the psalmist is saying: Don't forget what He's already done for you.
Because we do forget. We have spiritual amnesia. We pray for a new job, receive it, then three months later, complain about our boss. We pray for a relationship, are blessed with one, then get frustrated about how they load the dishwasher.
Three Movements of Gratitude
First, gratitude starts with remembering who God is. His goodness isn't dependent on our situation—it's rooted in His nature. His love doesn't flicker when our faith does. His mercy doesn't dry up when we mess up. His grace doesn't expire when we reach our limit.
When we remember who He is—the unchanging, all-powerful, deeply personal God—we can't help but give thanks.
Second, gratitude grows when we remember what God has done. Gratitude takes practice. Sometimes we catch ourselves worrying about something new, and God whispers: "Did you forget what I just brought you through?"
Try writing your own version of Psalm 136:
When you start remembering like that, anxiety loses its grip. Fear fades. Because if He's been faithful before, He will be faithful again.
Third, gratitude endures because God's love never quits. Everything else has an expiration date—our strength, our plans, our emotions. But God's love doesn't wear out, dry up, or give up.
Verse 23 says: "He remembered us in our lowest state, His love endures forever."
Even when your world feels small, your heart heavy, your faith thin—His love endures forever. His love never quits.
The Practice of Thanksgiving
So how do we live this out? We practice. Not just once a year around a turkey, but daily, intentionally.
When you wake: Thank you, Lord, for another sunrise.
At lunch: Thank you for this meal.
Driving home: Thank you that I have a home to drive to.
In struggle: Thank you for never leaving my side.
Make gratitude a habit—morning, noon, and night. And don't just thank Him for what's good. Thank Him for what's hard too, because even in difficult moments, He's shaping, stretching, and teaching us.
When we practice gratitude like this, it changes everything. It softens our hearts, slows our pace, and reminds us that every breath, every moment, every gift exists because of His love.
Beyond the Holiday
As Thanksgiving approaches, the invitation is clear: give thanks to God. When things are good, give thanks. When things are tough, give thanks. When the turkey is dry and the pie burns, give thanks. When plans fall apart, give thanks. When you simply open your eyes in the morning, give thanks.
Not because life is perfect, but because we serve a God who is.
Gratitude doesn't erase struggle, but it absolutely empowers us through it. It reminds us that God's goodness isn't fragile, His faithfulness doesn't waver, and His love isn't intimidated by our storms.
This week, slow down. Notice the small gifts. Tell the Giver you're grateful.
Because when you do, you'll discover that gratitude doesn't just change your mood—it changes your perspective. And your perspective can change your life.
His love endures forever.
Thanksgiving has a peculiar way of becoming one of the least thankful days of the year. Picture it: you've battled the grocery store crowds, wrestled with a stubborn frozen turkey, peeled mountains of potatoes, and navigated the minefield of family dynamics. Just when you think you've pulled off the perfect meal, someone suggests going around the table to share what everyone is thankful for—and you can practically feel the collective eye roll.
It's ironic, isn't it? We dedicate an entire day to gratitude, yet somehow end up stressed, stuffed, and slightly resentful before dessert arrives.
But what if we've been approaching gratitude all wrong? What if thankfulness isn't meant to be a feeling we wait for, but a practice we choose—especially when life feels anything but perfect?
The Square Pie Thanksgiving
Consider a first-time Thanksgiving host in 2015, full of confidence and Pinterest-inspired dreams. The turkey remained stubbornly frozen despite days in the fridge. The only available pie pan was square (yes, a square pumpkin pie). The microwave died on Thanksgiving morning. Then, in a plot twist worthy of a sitcom, the plumbing failed completely—toilets overflowing, bathtub filling mysteriously, with three children, four adults, and multiple dogs in the house.
There were buckets. There were frantic calls to plumbers. There were tears.
This wasn't the Martha Stewart moment anyone had envisioned. In that chaos, gratitude felt impossible. Throwing a pity party seemed like the only reasonable response. Yet this disaster reveals something profound: we've mistaken gratitude for a feeling rather than a discipline. We wait to feel thankful instead of choosing to be thankful.
A Different Kind of Thanksgiving
Fast forward ten years. Same person, completely different story.
One month before Thanksgiving, a medical emergency strikes. Loss of consciousness. Ambulance. Emergency room. Six blood transfusions. Emergency surgery. Days in the CCU. The physical trauma was significant, but the real battle began at home—not just the physical recovery, but the mental and emotional aftermath.
The what-ifs creeping in during quiet moments. The replaying images. The guilt of watching loved ones carry unexpected burdens. The stark awareness of how close everything came to ending.
But somewhere in week two of recovery, between pain medication and small bites of applesauce, something shifted. A realization emerged: gratitude doesn't magically appear when things get easier. Gratitude must be chosen intentionally, daily, sometimes hourly.
It's a discipline. A holy practice. A decision to look for God even when heaviness tries to obscure Him.
And slowly, gently, a whisper: You're still here. I'm not finished with you. My love endures forever.
The Heartbeat of Scripture
Psalm 136 reads like a holy heartbeat, pulsing with the same refrain twenty-six times: "His love endures forever."
The psalm begins: "Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures forever."
Notice it doesn't say give thanks because life is good. It says give thanks because God is good. That's a crucial distinction.
If we base thankfulness on how we feel, gratitude will fluctuate like Oklahoma weather—sunny one moment, freezing the next. But when we base thankfulness on who God is—His goodness, mercy, faithfulness, love—gratitude becomes steady, not situational.
The psalm continues through Israel's history: God made the heavens and earth. His love endures forever. He brought Israel out of slavery. His love endures forever. He parted the Red Sea. His love endures forever. He led them through the wilderness. His love endures forever.
It's as if the psalmist is saying: Don't forget what He's already done for you.
Because we do forget. We have spiritual amnesia. We pray for a new job, receive it, then three months later, complain about our boss. We pray for a relationship, are blessed with one, then get frustrated about how they load the dishwasher.
Three Movements of Gratitude
First, gratitude starts with remembering who God is. His goodness isn't dependent on our situation—it's rooted in His nature. His love doesn't flicker when our faith does. His mercy doesn't dry up when we mess up. His grace doesn't expire when we reach our limit.
When we remember who He is—the unchanging, all-powerful, deeply personal God—we can't help but give thanks.
Second, gratitude grows when we remember what God has done. Gratitude takes practice. Sometimes we catch ourselves worrying about something new, and God whispers: "Did you forget what I just brought you through?"
Try writing your own version of Psalm 136:
- To the God who kept me on the right path when I had no idea what I was doing, His love endures forever.
- To the God who provided when I didn't have enough, His love endures forever.
- To the God who forgave me when I didn't deserve it, His love endures forever.
When you start remembering like that, anxiety loses its grip. Fear fades. Because if He's been faithful before, He will be faithful again.
Third, gratitude endures because God's love never quits. Everything else has an expiration date—our strength, our plans, our emotions. But God's love doesn't wear out, dry up, or give up.
Verse 23 says: "He remembered us in our lowest state, His love endures forever."
Even when your world feels small, your heart heavy, your faith thin—His love endures forever. His love never quits.
The Practice of Thanksgiving
So how do we live this out? We practice. Not just once a year around a turkey, but daily, intentionally.
When you wake: Thank you, Lord, for another sunrise.
At lunch: Thank you for this meal.
Driving home: Thank you that I have a home to drive to.
In struggle: Thank you for never leaving my side.
Make gratitude a habit—morning, noon, and night. And don't just thank Him for what's good. Thank Him for what's hard too, because even in difficult moments, He's shaping, stretching, and teaching us.
When we practice gratitude like this, it changes everything. It softens our hearts, slows our pace, and reminds us that every breath, every moment, every gift exists because of His love.
Beyond the Holiday
As Thanksgiving approaches, the invitation is clear: give thanks to God. When things are good, give thanks. When things are tough, give thanks. When the turkey is dry and the pie burns, give thanks. When plans fall apart, give thanks. When you simply open your eyes in the morning, give thanks.
Not because life is perfect, but because we serve a God who is.
Gratitude doesn't erase struggle, but it absolutely empowers us through it. It reminds us that God's goodness isn't fragile, His faithfulness doesn't waver, and His love isn't intimidated by our storms.
This week, slow down. Notice the small gifts. Tell the Giver you're grateful.
Because when you do, you'll discover that gratitude doesn't just change your mood—it changes your perspective. And your perspective can change your life.
His love endures forever.
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