Thank - Full

Photo by: Joshua Niven

Photo by: Joshua Niven

I think there's a reason why it's called "giving" thanks. Sometimes, being thankful costs you something. Sometimes, it’s a sacrifice. Sometimes, seeing good in a world of wrong feels like pouring out an empty bucket onto dry ground.  

It may seem like dedicating a day to giving thanks is a little too outdated in our culture today. Like maybe we're passed that kind of idealism and we should live more in the reality of where our world is, and is heading. If thanks-giving requires giving of ourselves, what do we get in return? Amidst a list that's longer than you'd care to admit, the weight of the burdens and demands you carry and stuff in your pockets  until you have just no more room for more, why should you give, thanks?

Here's the paradox: the more thanks you give, the more joy you get in return.  Giving thanks does something on the inside. It opens up your heart-eyes to see the infinite amount of gifts that are in front of you, just waiting to be counted. I'm not always talking about the winning-the-lottery kind of gifts. I mean the purple mug you still have from high school, the way the grass feels on your bare feet, the bird that happened to be singing your way into work this morning. These are gifts worth giving thanks for, and the design always acts as more than merely an end in itself--meaning--there's always more to see and to receive. More joy. More peace. More Life. 

If everything becomes a gift and receiving those gifts by giving thanks in turn flows back to you as joy--well, you're caught up a holy receiving line. A holy way of seeing everything. Even tragedy. Even heartbreak. There's hope because of who God is, and the way He designed us. Isn't that good news? 

 We wish you a Thanksgiving that requires more than you can give so that joy might fill you more than you can contain. 


The Wander Trees