November 23, 2023 (Thanksgiving)

This Thanksgiving—and for the better part of these last six months—I’ve fallen somewhat short of thankfulness. My soul has felt buried under the weight of the mundane. Heavy, hardened.

Brokenness and toil feel foreign to us, and they should. Our hearts were made to be ravished, wooed, and adored; we were built to flourish in a world that only existed in Eden. We were made to walk with God in the cool of day, on gentle mornings, shameless—with lives so drenched in meaning that they would outweigh the ocean.

And that is something my whole being longs for, in this broken world.

( s e h n s u c h t )

But while on this side of eternity, I will pull on divine strings, reach, and beckon God within me to name and give thanks for the things my flesh cannot—for the flash of sun after days of rain; for stubborn hope that does not die (hope is eternally alive); for truth like an anchor; for warm coffee mornings in the November drear. I’m giving thanks for the fleeting nature of feelings; grey hairs; and for hardened hearts that can still unthaw at the touch of unfettered kindness, awe, and sincere love. I’m grateful that we were made for more—even as Jesus came and gives meaning to our “unseen” and “less.” What a paradox to embrace this, to live it out.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. May you turn your heart towards what is lovely, good, and true—because the deepest love we long for does, in fact, exist.