Just Feel It: A Thanksgiving Day Reflection
I heard a Christopher Nolan quote a while back. In response to a fan hungry to understand the complexities of his oeuvre, Nolan just chuckled and said, “Don’t try to understand it. Just feel it.”
Geez Louise, Chris. DON’T ACT LIKE YOU KNOW ME!
How many days, months, YEARS have I spent trying to understand the incomprehensible in this life? To make sense of mystery? I like to tell myself I’ll be able to trust God more fully if I crack the formula for sovereignty vs. free will, or find an emotionally satisfying answer to the question, “Does God give us pain, or is pain the byproduct of a fallen world?” Is it a bit of both? And if so, what’s the ratio??
But here’s the ugly truth: I don’t think I’m actually seeking deeper trust. I think I’m grasping for control in the middle of confusion and pain, believing that knowledge will replace my grief with peace. Believing hope is found in my finite understanding of an infinite God.
If you’re asking, “What does all of this have to do with Thanksgiving?” that’s a fair question. To be honest, I don’t like practicing thankfulness just because it’s the fourth Thursday in November. I want to—I’m actively trying to—practice thankfulness as an overflow of radical, honest reflection. And in order to reflect honestly, I need to excavate my heart a bit. I need to pull up the roots of my perfectionism and control, and hold them up to the light. Only then can I be authentic with God about my life, my heart, and my gratitude.
So I’m asking myself:
Should I seek to know my Savior more deeply?
Yes, without a doubt.
But is understanding every detail about why/when/how He does what He does the point of my relationship with Him?
No. Without a doubt.
Today, I’m going to (clumsily) choose gratitude for my good, hard life and my kind, trustworthy God. I’m going to weep loudly, laugh heartily, grieve honestly, and love whimsically. I’m going to choose not to numb the parts of myself that remind me I’m a limited, dependent human being. And, with gentleness towards myself and abiding trust in my Savior, I’m going to take Nolan’s advice and feel it all. Even when I don’t understand it all.
Jesus, help me relish the truth that You are God and I am not. Wrap Isaiah 55:8-9 around me like a warm, cozy blanket. And when pain brings me to my knees, show me how to “kiss the waves that throw me against the Rock of Ages.”
What a gift it is to need you, O Lord.
In this moment, I’m most grateful for that.
———
Photos by Rachel Perrella Photography
Kiss the Waves quote by Charles Spurgeon
