Most of us picture Pilgrims, turkey, parades and maybe a football game when we think of Thanksgiving. But long before Plymouth Rock, God built a national Thanksgiving right into Israel’s calendar—and He literally commanded His people to party outside for seven straight days. It was called Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles (or Feast of Booths). And some historians believe the Puritans who started our American Thanksgiving knew this festival very well.
For seven days every fall, after the harvest was gathered, every family built a sukkah—a flimsy little hut made of branches and leaves. They ate their meals inside it and many even slept in it. Why? To remember the wilderness years when God led their ancestors out of slavery and lived among them in a tent. And then God gave the clearest instruction of all:
“You shall rejoice in your feast… for seven days… so that you will be altogether joyful.” (Deuteronomy 16:14-15)
Notice He didn’t suggest joy. He commanded it. The stranger, the orphan, the widow—everyone was invited. No one left out. For one solid week, Israel threw the biggest gratitude party on the calendar. This year that phrase “altogether joyful” gave me pause.
It’s crazy to think 2025 is almost in the rear view mirror. Each one of us is facing something that we’d like to change. Some have challenging medical issues, a son or daughter who is struggling, financial issues, mourning a relationship that didn’t go the way you wanted it to or even some have an empty chair at their dinner table.
I understand this can be easier said than done but being thankful isn’t about dwelling on what you currently don’t have. Thankfulness is focusing on what you do have and remembering all the good of the past. It’s about making a decision to count your blessings no matter how small they appear. What we focus is what we empower and let’s not forget the blessings we have had.
No matter the circumstances, Sukkot whispers to our heart: Joy isn’t the denial of pain or loss. It’s the deliberate choice to remember Who remains faithful through it all and where our strength comes from.
Long ago, on the last day of the festival, during the dramatic water-drawing ceremony (when priests poured out water at the altar while the crowd shouted and trumpets blasted), Jesus stood up in the Temple courts and cried out:
“If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me… rivers of living water will flow from within them.” (John 7:37-38)
He wasn’t just quoting Scripture. He was claiming to be the fulfillment of the entire feast.
The real Harvest.
The true Shelter.
The living Water their hearts had been singing about all week.
This Thanksgiving, before the turkey gets carved and the dishes pile up, maybe we build our own little sukkah in our souls.
A quiet place where we remember:
He brought us out.
He’s brought us through.
And if your soul is thirsty this holiday season—if you feel alone, dry, or just tired—hear Him say it again:
“Come to Me and drink.”
He Himself is the blessing we’re all looking for. And He is enough to make us altogether joyful.
Happy Thanksgiving, friend.
The feast is already prepared—and you’re invited.