By Pastor Scott

Hey there friends, let’s pause for a second, shall we? Take a deep breath. Feel the air moving through you, the way your chest rises, the way this moment—this exact moment—is a gift. Isn’t that wild? That you’re here, right now, reading this, alive, held together by a mystery so vast it could make your heart ache if you let it? That’s where I want to start today—right in the middle of that ache, that wonder, that pulse of gratitude that reminds us we’re not just floating through life but swimming in an ocean of divine love.

Gratitude. It’s such a simple word, isn’t it? But it’s like a seed that, when planted, splits the ground open and grows into something wild and untamed. The Bible is bursting with this call to give thanks—Psalm 100 shouting, “Enter His gates with thanksgiving!” or Paul in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 nudging us to “give thanks in all circumstances.” All circumstances? Really? The flat tire, the hospital bill, the argument that left you raw? Yeah, all of it. But here’s the thing: gratitude isn’t about pretending everything’s fine. It’s about seeing the deeper current, the one that says God’s love and grace are still flowing, even when life feels like a storm.

So why do we give thanks to the Lord? Because everything—everything—is a gift. The coffee in your mug, the sunrise you barely noticed, the way your dog looks at you like you’re their whole world. These are little love notes from the Creator, whispers of a God who’s extravagantly generous. And yet, let’s be real: we forget this, don’t we? We take it for granted. We walk through life like it’s a grocery list—check this off, get that done—forgetting that every breath is a miracle, every heartbeat a divine conspiracy to keep us here, loved, alive.

I wonder… when’s the last time you stopped and let yourself feel the weight of God’s grace? Like, really feel it? The kind of grace that says, “You don’t have to earn this. You don’t have to hustle for my love. It’s yours. Always has been.” We’re so good at turning grace into a transaction, aren’t we? Like we’ve got to be good enough, holy enough, busy enough to deserve it. But grace doesn’t work that way. It’s like rain—it falls on the just and the unjust, on the put-together and the falling-apart. And yet, we breeze past it, don’t we? We take it for granted, like it’s just another Tuesday, like the God of the universe didn’t just hand us another day to live and love and mess it all up and try again.

So here’s a question: What if we stopped taking God’s love for granted? What if we woke up tomorrow and decided to notice—really notice—the way grace shows up? In the laughter of a kid, in the way a friend texts you just when you need it, in the quiet of a morning before the world gets loud? What if we let gratitude crack us open, let it reshape how we see everything?

And here’s another one: What’s keeping you from giving thanks? Is it the pain you’re carrying? The disappointment that’s settled into your bones? The fear that if you let yourself be grateful, you’re somehow saying the hard stuff doesn’t matter? I get it. Gratitude in the middle of the mess feels like a tightrope walk. But what if giving thanks isn’t about ignoring the pain but about seeing the bigger story? The one where God is still there, still weaving something beautiful, even when you can’t see the whole picture?

The Bible keeps pointing us back to this truth: giving thanks reorients us. It’s not about faking it or slapping a smile on suffering. It’s about remembering who we’re tethered to. Colossians 3:17 says, “Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” Whatever you do. The mundane, the glorious, the heartbreaking—it’s all held in the hands of a God who loves you so fiercely it’s almost too much to take in.

But we do take it for granted, don’t we? We forget that the cross was God’s wild, reckless declaration of love. We forget that the resurrection means death doesn’t get the last word. We get so caught up in our to-do lists, our worries, our scrolling, that we miss the miracle of it all. So here’s my invitation: slow down. Look around. Let your heart break open with thanks. For the big stuff—salvation, hope, eternity. For the small stuff—the smell of rain, the sound of your favorite song, the way someone’s smile lights up a room.

What would it look like for you to live with a grateful heart today? Not a perfect heart, not a polished heart, but a real one, raw and open to the love that’s holding you together? What would it look like to stop, right now, and say, “Thank you, God, for this moment, for this life, for your grace that I don’t deserve but get to soak in anyway”?

Let’s not take it for granted anymore. Let’s live like we know how loved we are. Let’s give thanks—not because life is perfect, but because God is present. And that, my friends, is enough.
Grace & Peace,

–Pastor Scott.