A slow reading of Psalm 95 bounced me back and forth through the story of God’s people; reminding me of stories of rocks and foundations, of stones and salvation.
No matter what is going on in your story at the moment…no matter the pain, the sorrow, and the hurt, there is always something to be grateful for.
I desire to live in true thankfulness and gratitude—for every piece of the woman whom God created me to be. Yet it is counted false if the successes of those around me cause me to doubt my own identity.
This year, 1,100 miles separate me from the people with whom I have spent every Thanksgiving. Rather than holding to tradition, my plans involve waiting: waiting for the phone to be passed around to each loved one, waiting for the day to pass, waiting for Christmas so I can join them.
While that spider and my mild arachnophobia did give me chronic discomfort, my discomfort also made me hyper-aware of my surroundings. And, strangely, that’s where my gratitude for spiders comes in.
We know, in the abstract, that we might be wrong — we just never think we're wrong in the here and now. But what if the space of being-wrong is precisely the space Christians — as redeemed sinners — are called to inhabit?