On Thanksgiving

I read an article this afternoon titled, “You have permission to not be thankful this Thanksgiving”.  The author’s point was that no one should have to force themselves to be grateful just because a date on the calendar prescribes that we should be thankful.  She even brought in to her argument the fact that “the original Thanksgiving” (think Pilgrims and Native Americans) was a horrible affair sans turkey or any feelings of thanks or of giving or of compassion and humanity.  True enough, I suppose.

I would never argue that someone should be forced to be thankful.  I would never say that someone should be compelled to give thanks for things that they don’t have or for things which have been ripped from their grasp.  Forced joy is not joy.  I get that.

 

However, if I’m going to argue about anything, I would choose to argue passionately about one thing in this regard.  And here's the reason:

 

I have seen with my own eyes the thankfulness of women and children in the poorest of the poor areas of the world.  They have the fewest of material possessions.  They have invited me into their immaculately kept homes in the slum and served me a cup of hot tea with the last of their milk and sugar, not knowing when they might be able to afford more.  The host’s eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of being hospitable.

 

I have talked with young people who have committed their lives to Christian service and, in that very humanitarian volunteerism, have become victims of religious radicals who beat them bloody and left them for dead.  These young people showed me their scars and told the stories of their abuse not in an attempt to garner pity, but rather, with a sense of authentic joy because they were thankful they got to serve their God with everything they had.  Even if it meant sacrificing their physical well-being and general good health.

 

I have walked the streets of villages divided by caste for generations, only to see the low caste children of the village delighted to fetch pots and pots of heavy water from the high caste water-well because they are now educated, speak English, and have gained social status because of their studies.  The weight of those heavy pots didn't matter because, in their glee, they were thankful to be able to serve their parents in that way.

 

I have inspected the remains of burnt out church buildings where worshipers still gather cheerfully every week because… where else would they go? They were thankful for a "roof" over their heads as they raised their hands in worship, singing out to their great God, hoping it wouldn't rain.

 

Here’s what I would argue: Life does not have to be good for us to be thankful.  We do not have to be filled with a spirit of happiness to embrace a spirit of gratefulness.  We don’t have to wear a smile and put on a happy face and FEEL filled with glee. We can be facing challenges (i.e., COVID-19, election stress, economic downturn, is there more?) and feel really bad. And yet, in the midst of our sorrow and awful feelings, we can remember all that we have, all that we’ve been given, and who we are at the very core of our being.

 

A year ago, I was facing an unexpected two months of depression, anxiety and paranoia.  I hadn’t felt that way since moving to America a couple years earlier and it made me sad to return to those all-too-familiar emotions that made me feel out of control and useless.  I didn’t want to cook a Thanksgiving dinner, let alone eat it.  I didn’t want to decorate for Christmas.  I felt like my entire being had been robbed of its joy.  Happiness was not an option.  Sure, I went to the psychiatrist and she adjusted my medications.  That certainly helped.  But what I came to realize is that we will all go through seasons in our lives that are not filled with all the good feelings that we are “supposed” to have.  The turkeys and the pumpkin pies and the hot apple cider cannot fix a broken heart.

 

But we can still be thankful.

 

It’s in those times of utter desperation that we have to return to the very base, the very root of thankfulness.  And that’s thankfulness for a God who loves us unconditionally, who accepts us for who we are, understands what we’re going through, and who sees us every moment of every day through the beautiful filter of what Jesus did for us on the cross.

 

Yes, that’s right.  We all see life and circumstances through certain filters.  I am constantly explaining to people that my opinion is formed through my “India filter” (even this essay is written in part through my India filter!).  My worldview is forever changed because of who I am and how I see the world.  Well, God’s filter in viewing us is through the blood of Jesus on the cross.  He sees us through eyes of forgiveness and love and compassion and equality.  He is the ultimate giver of second chances… and third chances and fourth chances!  He is the one on whom we can always rely when this world that we live in has gone crazy.  He is never divided, even when our nation, our state, our city... or even our family, is facing its own civil war.  He is the same yesterday today and forever.  We can count on His consistency.  EVEN WHEN WE CAN’T FEEL HIS LOVE, He still loves us. That, to me, is incredible.

 

And so, if for nothing else, for THAT we can be thankful.

 

No, we don’t have all the answers.  We are surrounded by uncertainty.  Our nation is divided.  We all feel bad and depressed and irritated by all that the world has thrown at us this year. It’s OK to feel that way.  Revel in those feelings.  Feel them all.  Sit with the emotions and let them wash over you.

 

But one thing is for sure, even in the midst of all the messy, horrible stuff that we’re facing today: God loves us and accepts us now and forever.  This Thanksgiving, the horrible Thanksgiving of 2020, let’s at least be thankful for that.