The Source of Our Thanksgiving

Prayer of Illumination

The Difficulty of Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving— that is the holiday we are celebrating today as a nation.

And yet, when we look honestly at life, we quickly realize there are many things that militate against gratitude.

This past year we have collectively experienced much pain.

We have endured death and the separation of loved ones.

We have felt the heartache of fractured family relationships.

We have watched our bodies deteriorate under the weight of age, illness, and sickness.

Some of us have witnessed tragic events in our families that brought death or left loved ones gravely injured.

These are not small matters. They push hard against our ability to give thanks.

And I could go on— not only naming physical pain but also the emotional, internal, and psychological burdens many of us carry.

Some of us have felt spiritually dry, as though our soul has turned indifferent.

Some have wrestled with thoughts and emotions that simply will not lift.

You’ve had moments where you didn’t know what to think, what to ponder, or what to pray.

You’ve been stretched in every direction, near your wits’ end.

Everything, it seems, has worked against your thanksgiving.

And yet— here we are.

Here we are this morning, gathered together in a small room on the corner of 83rd and Normandy to offer our thanks to God.

The very fact that we are here tells us something profound:

the source of our thanksgiving cannot be the events of our lives.

It cannot be the circumstances we’ve walked through.

All of us have endured things this year that, if we’re honest, we are not thankful for.

But when we encounter the Scriptures— when we read the words God has preserved for us— we discover in them the true source of our thanksgiving.

So as we read this story, I want you to ask:

What is the source of surprise for these disciples?

And what is the source of thanksgiving for you?

Let us read from Luke 24:13–35.

13 That very day two of them were going to a village named Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and they were talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them. 16 But their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, “What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?” And they stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” 19 And he said to them, “What things?” And they said to him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a man who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things happened. 22 Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning, 23 and when they did not find his body, they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see.” 25 And he said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! 26 Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” 27 And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.

28 So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He acted as if he were going farther, 29 but they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. 31 And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” 33 And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem. And they found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, 34 saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread.

The Sadness of the Disciples

The first thing we meet in this passage is two disciples walking to a village called Emmaus— about seven miles from Jerusalem.

And as they walk, one emotion dominates their conversation:

sadness.

They are sad. They are melancholic.

Why?

Because, as far as they know, Jesus is dead.

Here is the great tension of the story: We, the readers, already know the ending. We have read that Jesus is alive— He has risen!

But these two disciples have not yet grasped that glorious truth.

We meet them in a moment of deep struggle, inner turmoil, and raw disillusionment over everything that has happened in Jerusalem these past several days.

Picture them: shoulders slouched, heads hanging low, unable to lift their eyes.

Emotionally defeated. Physically spent.

And it is exactly in that moment— this heavy mixture of defeat, despair, and hopelessness— that Jesus Himself draws near and starts walking beside them.

He asks a question that almost feels ironic: “What are y’all talking about as you walk?”

Luke tells us: “They stood still, looking sad.”

I can almost see Luke with his thesaurus open, scrolling past big, dramatic words— devastated… crushed… grief-stricken… overwhelmed…

And then he stops. He chooses the simplest word. A word with a low bar. A word that fits every one of us in this room at some point this year.

The word is just… sad.

They were sad.

You know that look. Many of us have worn that look.

They were sad.

The Disciples’ Disillusionment

Then Cleopas speaks up with a cautious, almost stunned inquisitiveness:

“Are You the only person in Jerusalem who doesn’t know what has happened these last few days?”

They are trying so hard to be polite— almost non-confrontational.

Because the natural reaction would have been far sharper: “What do you mean, ‘What are we talking about?’ Are you serious? We’re talking about the greatest tragedy that has happened in years!”

But their sadness leaks into everything— even the way they speak to this stranger.

So they answer mildly: “Are You the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?”

Then Jesus asks a question that is even more astonishing— even more provocative:

“What things?”

And suddenly the dam breaks.

Like someone who has bottled up anxiety for days, they let it all pour out:

“Have You not heard about Jesus of Nazareth? A prophet—mighty in deed and word before God and all the people!

And our chief priests and rulers delivered Him up to be condemned to death and crucified Him.

We had hoped— we truly believed— He was the One who would redeem Israel.

And now… our hopes are shattered.”

Can you feel the weight they are carrying?

We’ve all been there.

Three years of riding high— miracle after miracle, teaching after teaching, hope building on hope.

Then, in a matter of hours, everything collapsed.

You know that whiplash.

You’ve tasted seasons where it felt like joy upon joy— and then, almost without warning, sorrow, struggle, turmoil, difficulty— one blow after another.

And somewhere in the back of your mind a voice whispers:

“What in the world is happening?”

Jesus’ Loving Rebuke

Now Jesus speaks— and He is far less gentle than they have been with Him.

His words are both provocative and deeply loving.

He calls out their foolishness while handing them hope on a platter.

Verse 25: “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!

Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and then enter into His glory?”

In other words: The path to glory has always run straight through suffering.

In all their zeal, in all their passion for the kingdom, they had forgotten the suffering part.

We do the same.

It’s not that we don’t feel suffering— Lord knows we feel plenty of it.

It’s that we forget it is woven into the plan from the very beginning.

And beginning with Moses and all the prophets, He interpreted for them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.

Jesus Reveals Himself in the Breaking of the Bread

Up to this point these disciples still do not realize that the very Jesus they are grieving is the One walking and talking with them.

The One they are worried about, the One they are sad about— He is right there beside them.

As they draw near the village, Jesus acts as though He is going to keep walking farther.

But they urge Him strongly: “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.”

In other words: It’s late, sir— you don’t want to be caught traveling in the dark.

Jesus agrees.

They sit down at the table, and something completely unexpected happens.

Instead of the host of the house taking the lead, Jesus Himself takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them.

In that moment the Guest becomes the Host— as if these disciples are the ones being welcomed into His home.

Luke gives us four simple verbs: He took He blessed He broke He gave

These are the exact actions Jesus used at the Passover when He instituted the Lord’s Supper.

Many have wondered: Was this the Lord’s Supper all over again? Some say yes—the verbs are identical. Others point out the absence of wine and a slightly different word for “bless.”

But whether it was formally the Supper or not, Luke wants us to see something far bigger:

The disciples’ real struggle was failing to grasp that suffering was always part of the plan. It was never an accident. It was necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and then enter into His glory.

And it is precisely in the breaking of the bread that everything clicks.

Verse 35: “He was known to them in the breaking of the bread.”

In that instant it all rushes back: When Jesus said, “This is My body which is given for you,” this is the body that was broken. This is the body given for their salvation.

And at that moment— their eyes are opened.

They recognize Him.

The Source of Our Thanksgiving

And here— right here at this table— we discover the true source of our thanksgiving.

It is not merely that Christ died for our sins and paid the penalty we owed.

It is not merely that we have been reconciled to God —glorious as those truths are.

We give thanks because we have a Savior who communes with us in the middle of our suffering.

The source of our thanksgiving is twofold:

The saving work of Jesus who accomplished our glorious redemption.

The sufferings of Jesus through which God is forming us into the image of His Son.

That is why the psalmist can sing in Psalm 30: “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.”

The night is real. The sorrow is heavy. But it is brief. The path to glory has always been the path of suffering— the path of grace, mercy, and compassion.

Yet when we list the benefits we have in Christ, we almost never include this one: the benefit of suffering.

When we are united to our Savior, we are united not only to His life, His righteousness, His victory— we are also united to His sufferings.

God is not only the God of the good moments, the joyful seasons, the mountaintops.

He is the God who meets us in the valley.

He uses every circumstance: the pain, the struggle, the sadness, the anxiety, the depression, the tribulation, the moments when despair settles deep, when we are at our wits’ end, when we cannot see the other side, when the tunnel seems to have no light.

Those are the very places where God is powerfully at work.

Therefore we can give thanks— because we do not suffer alone.

We have a Savior who suffers with us. A Savior who is not ashamed to call us brothers and sisters, because He Himself endured the agony of the cross.

That is the heart of our thanksgiving today.

Conclusion

So on this Thanksgiving Day, when so many things may be pressing against your praise and resisting your thanksgiving to God, may you remember the true source of your gratitude: A Savior who conquered sin and death— and a Savior who joins you in your suffering.

And because of Him, we can together sing of the glories of our mighty, powerful Redeemer. May that be the heart of our thanksgiving today.