I’m not sure how you feel about it, but Thanksgiving always makes me feel as if I’m reading the last page of a novel even as I’m looking ahead to the next book on my reading list. Thanksgiving is a watershed of sorts, as we gather to give thanks for both the blessings of the past and the blessings still to come.
Many of us traveled to be with family this week, or our families traveled to be with us. Perhaps you set up folding chairs so that everyone could squeeze around the dining room table elbow to elbow.
For some in our community, there was an empty chair this year where a loved one always sat, a reminder of the brevity of human life. For others, the attention of a newborn child lent new life to the celebration.
If you are like me, when the table was cleared, the last tearful hugs given, and the long drive home begun, it sank in just how much we miss where we came from. We have so much to give thanks for. Here are a few of the little things I’m thankful for this year.
I’m thankful for Sputnik, our family’s golden retriever, who shadows me around the house and adores me even on days when I’m not particularly adorable. I’m thankful for our cheerful foreign student neighbors who brighten my summer days by excitedly waving and shouting “Hello!” as they pass by our house.
I’m thankful for law enforcement officers, firefighters, and military personnel who kiss their families goodbye each morning not 100 percent certain that they’ll return home that night. I’m thankful for athletes who risk their careers by taking a knee to remind me that even in this land of astonishing freedom, there’s still work to be done.
I’m thankful for women who summon the courage to step out of the shadow of sexual abuse, even when their abusers are politicians I’ve voted for, comedians I’ve laughed at, or musicians I’ve listened to.
Most of all, I’m thankful that as this earth spirals its way through the vastness of space, that God is here with us; loving us in our brokenness, renewing us in spirit, and reminding us that even though this life we share is temporary, our life with God is eternal.
To those who aren’t familiar with the rhythm of the church calendar, it may seem counterintuitive that many Christians share scripture readings this time of year that speak to the end of this world’s existence. Christmas, after all, is just around the corner. Why ponder that buzz-kill just as we enter these weeks of bright lights, festive music, and good cheer? The truth is simply this: we choose to be reminded that human life is transitory because understanding that we are not permanent leads us to a more thankful confession of God’s permanence.
In a way, our worship this time of year circles back to our gathering on Ash Wednesday, when the cross was inscribed on our foreheads, and we declared that from dust we have come and to dust, we shall return.
The psalmist writes, “You turn us back to the dust and say, ‘Turn back, O children of earth.’ God sweeps us away like a dream, and we fade away as if we were grass.”
It is God, after all, who in the beginning brought order out of chaos. It is God whose hands formed the dry land so that human life might evolve. It is God who will reign over creation after we are gone. Confronted by this, we pause, take a cleansing breath, and consider what this means for us moving forward as disciples of the risen Christ.
At the heart of our faith is the belief that God came into this world through Jesus so that we might continue to live, even when human life is no more. We believe that God is not indifferent to us. God is, in fact, active in this world and active in our lives and the lives of our neighbors. This is a radical world view, no question about it. Yet it inspires us to accept Jesus’s invitation to think outside the box so that the story of God’s love for this world might be a part of our community’s own narrative.
As I write this with a contented golden retriever curled around my feet, God’s presence right here on the North Shore tops the list of things I’m thankful for. Living into this eternal presence inspires us to plunge headlong into the chaos and uncertainty of human life. It requires of us to step away from what is safe and comfortable, and instead embrace a life that runs counter to the norms and expectations of our neighbors.
I am thankful that together we are God’s investment in this beautiful community. We grow God’s presence collectively, by bringing hope to the unwanted, justice to those who have been abused, shelter to those who will sleep in the cold tonight, and peace to this troubled world.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month’s contributor is Tom Murray of the Lutsen Lutheran Church and Baptism River Community Church of Finland.
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