An Awkward Thanksgiving… Wednesday

Tonight is our last sleep before Thanksgiving. Today I don’t want to spend a lot of time on my words. There is a Psalm that I read at the summit of the mountains I climb and now and again when I just need reminded of how good I really have it. I invite you to sit down in a comfortable spot. Take a few deep breaths and read these words over and over until it feels like you are breathing them. Then sit for a while and be. 

A Thanksgiving Psalm

100 

1-2 On your feet now—applaud God!
    Bring a gift of laughter,
    sing yourselves into his presence.

Know this: God is God, and God, God.
    He made us; we didn’t make him.
    We’re his people, his well-tended sheep.

Enter with the password: “Thank you!”
    Make yourselves at home, talking praise.
    Thank him. Worship him.

For God is sheer beauty,
    all-generous in love,
    loyal always and ever.

Rest well in the goodness of God!

An Awkward Thanksgiving… Tuesday

Where are you God? In 2020, it’s an easy question for us to ask. A pandemic, racial tension unseen for decades, political unrest, and simple frustration with humanity. Unprecedented,  we want normalcy, unlike anything we have seen before, words and phrases that have changed the way we talk about everyday life.

We feel abandoned. We feel lost and we aren’t sure exactly what to do. Our feelings may seem new and solely ours, but we are not the first to feel forgot. The Bible demonstrates the process of grace, rejection, exile, and finally restoration again. 

Psalm 89 is a prayer given to the people of Israel. It’s there to remind the people of the faithfulness of God, even when He seems distant. 

The 89th Psalm consists of four parts. First is the grace—the poet sings of the rule of God. They write of the greatness and wonder of the Kingdom. Then Ethan (the named creator of the work) reminds the reader of the promise God has made to Israel through the line of David. As the second movement in the Psalm closes, he reminds Israel of their rejection of God. Lament frames the third portion. He mourns the exile that awaits the nation of Israel. He weeps over the trials they face. This poem ends with the author returning to the beginning — “Praise be to the Lord forever! Amen and Amen.” 

Some scholars think these words were penned after the nation of Israel had been in exile. The Psalm remembers and reminds them of the pain they endured and the restored hope during their wandering. 

Though no one has driven us from our homeland, we feel the sense of loss that Israel understood. As we enter Thanksgiving, we feel all is lost. I remind you; is not. There is still beauty. The God of the first movement is still the God watching over our hurting world. He is still the God of love with His arms open, ready to receive back his people. 

When we pause on Thursday to celebrate this awkward Thanksgiving, remember that it is only for a time. Exile isn’t forever—it is only a small piece of the cycle.    

An Awkward Thanksgiving… Monday

What do you do when it’s all different? How do you celebrate when fear reigns? How can we remember when traditions have to set aside for a year? What if this is the last time we all get to be together? 

These are only a few of the questions we are wrestling with as we start this awkward Thanksgiving week. Officials are telling us not to travel, shamers are berating anyone even entertaining visiting family this holiday. It’s a great heaping mass of confusion. 2020 robs us of the one day a year we seem to say, as one, “Let’s be thankful,” right? 

I don’t think so. In 1621, a group of Puritans celebrated one of the first Thanksgivings (there is a debate on the actual “first”). They celebrated because they had survived the harsh, dark, New England winter and had found a bountiful harvest. Everything was new for those first celebrators. Some would never see family or friends from the old world ever again. Many didn’t survive that first winter and weren’t there for the celebration. We shattered friendships and broke the trust with the indigenous First Nations People. 

Those early celebrations had everything right and wrong. They had reasons to be grateful and reasons to mourn. They focused on the goodness—at least for a while. 

In 2020 we may be closer to those first celebrations than any Thanksgiving in the intervening years. Our sense of loss and the distance from loved one’s weigh us down. We, the people, can become overwhelmed by the grayness that surrounds us or we can rise and fight to see the light of day. We can wrestle out the things we are thankful for in this year. 

Thanksgiving is practice. It is more than a day of gluttony. It is the way we wake up. It is the way we see the day. It is the hope we cling to—that things can be better. 

This year, togetherness is limited, but distance does not limit the gratitude we can carry for each other. Paul wrote to the church in Corinth a prayer we can echo today, “I always thank God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus (1 Corinthians 1:4).” 

It may be an awkward Thanksgiving, but you can still pray thanksgiving over the family and friends in your life. You can still call and write and let them know you love and cherish them. This is a good chance to practice the habit of gratitude.