Today’s readings bring us to the end of the church year—Christ the King Sunday (or the Reign of Christ, for those of you who don’t like the king terminology)—and they invite us into a paradox: thanksgiving in the midst of judgment, hope in the midst of suffering, praise in the shadow of the cross. They remind us that gratitude is not reserved for easy days, but is the posture of God’s people in every season.

Let’s begin with Jeremiah. The prophet speaks a word of judgment against the shepherds of Israel—leaders who have scattered the flock, who have failed to care for God’s people. “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!” says the Lord (Jer 23:1). But judgment is not the final word. God promises: “I myself will gather the remnant of my flock… and I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them” (vv.3–4). And then this: “The days are surely coming… when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch… and this is the name by which he will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness’” (vv.5–6).

This is a promise of restoration. A promise of a shepherd who will not scatter, but gather. A king who will not exploit, but save. And for that promise, we give thanks.

Canticle 16—the Song of Zechariah—echoes this thanksgiving. “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them” (Luke 1:68). Zechariah sings not because everything is easy, but because God has acted. God has raised up a mighty savior. God has remembered the covenant. God has shone light into darkness.

It is a song of thanksgiving in advance. Gratitude not only for what has been, but for what is yet to come. “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us” (v.78). Thanksgiving is not just looking back—it’s looking forward with hope.

Paul’s letter to the Colossians takes us deeper. He prays that the church may be “made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power… while joyfully giving thanks to the Father” (Col 1:11–12). And then he lifts up Christ in one of the most powerful hymns of the New Testament: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation… in him all things hold together… and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things” (vv.15–20).

This is thanksgiving rooted not in circumstance, but in Christ. We give thanks because Christ is the center. Christ is the reconciler. Christ is the one in whom all things hold together—even when our lives feel like they are falling apart.

And then we come to Luke’s Gospel. It is a shocking text for a day focused on how Christ reigns and the kingdom that we enter into. We expect triumph, but we hear crucifixion. “When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals” (Luke 23:33). The leaders scoff. The soldiers mock. Even one of the criminals derides him. And yet, in the midst of this humiliation, one voice speaks faith: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (v.42). And Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (v.43).

This is leadership revealed not in power, but in mercy. Not in domination, but in compassion. Not in a throne, but on a cross. And for this mercy, we give thanks.

Today’s texts give us hope… Give thanks for the shepherd who gathers, even when leaders fail. Give thanks for the dawn that breaks, even when the night feels long. Give thanks for Christ who holds all things together, even when the world feels fractured. Give thanks for Jesus who reigns from the cross, even when the kingdom looks upside down.

Thanksgiving is not denial—it is defiance. It is the refusal to let fear or despair have the last word. It is the declaration that God is faithful, Christ is our king, and mercy is stronger than death.

As we approach Thanksgiving Day, we are invited to practice this posture. Not just gratitude for abundance, but gratitude in the midst of struggle. Not just thanksgiving for what we enjoy, but thanksgiving for the one who redeems. Not just praise for what we see, but praise for what we trust.

Because Christ our King is not enthroned in ease—he is enthroned in love. And his reign is not someday—it is now. His mercy is not abstract—it is real. His promise is not distant—it is present.

So let us give thanks. For the shepherd who gathers. For the dawn that breaks. For the Christ who reconciles. For the leader who remembers us, even from the cross.

And let us live as people of thanksgiving—grateful in heart, faithful in word, generous in deed. For in Christ, all things hold together. And in Christ, all things are being made new. Amen.