A case for Thanksgiving

Sometimes I have a hard time coming up with why I like Thanksgiving so much. Well, a reason outside of "I love rolls". Maybe it's because I'm a sucker for hype. One meal, once a year. In my family, this means a big count down to fried turkey and my attempt to come up with a decent gluten-free crust (vinegar and rice flour, by the way). Often I feel as a Christian, I'm suppose to defend it. Thankfulness and gathering together are Christian staples, right? But gluttony and consumption and celebrating a really controversial historical event feels wrong. But then I think of the part in the beautiful Christmas story where countless baby boys were murdered as Herod searched for Jesus. And how Christmas can be filled with gluttony and consumption. And I feel like perhaps no celebration can go unscathed by some sort of evil.

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I grew up in an incredibly stable family. As a result of that, our holidays pretty much looked the same every year. My parents always hosted, the same crowd came over, the same food was served and the same stories were told. I loved it. I'm a creature of habit, I dislike change and I love tradition. Our first year of marriage, Matt and I were living in southern California and consequently, were broke. When fall rolled around, we decided to stay in town for Thanksgiving and save up to travel for Christmas. I was borderline devastated. Neither of us had family in the area and since I had just moved there six months prior, I could count my friends on one hand. The image of us frying a 12lb turkey for ourselves brought me to tears. Over the next few weeks, we joined a team of people who moved to the area to plant a church. There were around ten of us, all varying in age and circumstances. The only things we had in common were we wanted to share Jesus with the city and we were far from home. 

A few weeks after meeting, one of the couples offered to host Thanksgiving dinner for anyone interested and soon we were scheduling out a meal plan. I remember that holiday so clearly. We all cooked together, we ate midday, we watched football. I burned the appetizer I was suppose to provide. Everyone chipped in on dishes. It was one of the most amazing fellowship experiences I've ever had. The people we had met just weeks prior seemed like family. Over the next few years, they did become family. Matt and I spent the following three Thanksgivings with them and a couple Christmases.

I love the idea that on Thursday night people all over the country will imitate something beautifully designed by God: feasting with loved ones. I'm not ignoring the fact that there's an ugly historical side to this meal, or that millions of people will go to bed hungry Thanksgiving night, and many other nights. I'm simply grateful for the kingdom-likeness of this holiday. I was surprised recently how many times I came across a tradition that involved feasting in the Old Testament. The Bible is marked by meals, traditions and celebrations. I'm looking forward to imitating that later this week over a big meal, but I also desire to bring those qualities into my home all the time.

Like inviting others over for meals, staying grateful and remembering the hard, ugly parts of my history that made the truly beautiful, redeemed parts possible.