The pastor frames the evening with a clear aim: that this Thanksgiving-Eve gathering would not be “just another service,” but a moment that sweetens the heart and reorients it toward God’s goodness. He asks the church to pause the holiday rush, quiet their spirits, and intentionally recognize the Lord’s daily mercies. That posture sets up a short, focused meditation in Psalm 100—five compact verses that summon God’s people to joyful praise, grateful service, and confident trust—so that thanksgiving becomes more than a seasonal feeling; it becomes a God-anchored way of living.

The pastor begins by acknowledging a common struggle: sometimes gratitude feels hard to find. He offers two diagnoses. First, we can be so self-centered—absorbed in our plans, pressures, and preferences—that we miss the gifts right in front of us. Second, we might be spiritually disconnected from the Giver Himself; without the Holy Spirit’s prompting, we don’t recognize the countless avenues for praise. He doesn’t present these as dead-ends but as invitations—repent of self-focus by choosing to serve and give, and, if unsure about salvation, settle it without delay. With that heart-check in place, he opens Psalm 100 to show how Scripture trains the soul in thanksgiving.

Psalm 100: the call to joyful, grateful worship.
The psalm opens with imperatives that leave little room for passivity: “Make a joyful noise… Serve the Lord with gladness… Come before His presence with singing.” Gratitude is not primarily a private mood; it is public, embodied worship. Joyful noise, glad service, and singing are concrete acts that aim our affections God-ward. The pastor stresses that these practices are not personality-dependent; they flow from what we know to be true about God. Verse 3 is the hinge: “Know ye that the Lord, He is God: it is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.” In other words, thanksgiving grows out of theology. When we know where God belongs—above us as Creator and Lord—gratitude follows naturally because our place is clarified: we are His, entirely and safely.

Gratitude clarifies relationship: Creator and people, Shepherd and sheep.
The pastor lingers over the simple confession of verse 3—“It is He that made us”—because we routinely overlook it. Being made by God isn’t mere doctrine; it explains why gratitude is fitting. The artwork reveals the artist’s hand; so lives shaped by grace should display the handiwork of God. If we forget our Maker, we overestimate our role and underestimate His care. But when we remember that we are “His people” and “the sheep of His pasture,” thanksgiving becomes relational: we thank a Father who provides, protects, leads, and corrects.

Enter with thanksgiving: gratitude as the door to worship.
Verse 4 moves from who God is to how we come to Him: “Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise.” Thanksgiving is not a garnish after blessings arrive; it is the way into His presence. The pastor notes that this is more than repeating “thanks” by habit. It is a “grateful confession” that names specific mercies—answers to prayer, protection in danger, provision in need, and the quiet, daily benefits that usually go unannounced. Gratitude trains us to spot God’s fingerprints in the ordinary as much as in the extraordinary.

Thanksgiving is commanded because God is always good—circumstances are not.
The pastor makes an important distinction: life is not always enjoyable, but God is always Someone in whom we can rejoice. Gratitude isn’t tied to the temperature of our circumstances; it’s tethered to the character of God. That is why Scripture commands, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” When life is “overwhelming” (he cites the language of trouble, sorrow, and the sense of being hemmed in), gratitude does not deny pain; it declares that God’s goodness is larger than our pain. The command to give thanks, then, is liberating: we are not at the mercy of events to determine whether thanksgiving is possible. We are at the mercy of a good God.

A parenting analogy for reverence and gratitude.
Drawing on a parenting discussion, the pastor observes that when children respect their parents, gratitude naturally follows; when they don’t, they take gifts for granted. He links that to “the fear of the Lord”—reverent awe—as the beginning of wisdom. Right reverence births right gratitude. The more clearly we honor God’s rightful place, the more naturally we will thank Him, even for small mercies.

God’s name and character enlarge thanksgiving.
The psalm directs us to “bless His name,” and the pastor underscores that God’s names and titles are portraits of His character. He connects this to the coming Christmas season—not for seasonal sentimentality, but because those titles (e.g., “Prince of Peace,” “Everlasting Father”) reveal facets of God’s goodness toward His people. Recognizing who He is multiplies reasons to give thanks. This point becomes personal when the pastor testifies that, growing up without a father at home, the truth that God is a Father steadied him with confidence that God would provide when resources were thin. Thanksgiving, then, is not vague goodwill; it is a specific response to the known character of God.

Verse 5: the unshakable foundation for thanks.
The psalm closes with three anchors that do not change: “For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting; and His truth endureth to all generations.” These are not slogans; they are reasons.

• The Lord is good. Not sometimes—He is good. His nature sets the baseline of reality.
• His mercy is everlasting. His covenant love does not expire when we are weak, slow, or failing.
• His truth endures to all generations. What He has said stands, binding each generation to promises that cannot fail.

Because these foundations are constant, gratitude is always appropriate—even in hardship. The pastor reinforces this with a pastoral observation: some of the hardest seasons become, in God’s hands, the greatest blessings. He cites real-life restoration (a family nearly split finds new closeness after the crisis) as evidence that trials can become testimonies. The point is not to glorify pain but to magnify providence: do not grow bitter in difficulty; trust God’s plan and keep thanking Him.

A practical pathway forward.
The message does not end with sentiment; it calls for practice. First, examine the heart for self-focus and redirect energy toward serving God and others. Becoming a giver reopens the eyes to joy. Second, if unsure about salvation, settle it now—assurance changes everything about how we see God’s gifts. Third, cultivate specificity in thanksgiving. Name the 2025 mercies; rehearse answered prayers; recognize protections you didn’t earn and provisions you couldn’t orchestrate. Specific thanks prevents generic forgetfulness. Finally, keep thanksgiving communal. Let others hear what God has done; your testimony may be the confirmation someone else is praying to see.

Closing emphasis.
Psalm 100 does not present gratitude as seasonal etiquette but as covenant worship. We give thanks because we know—mind and heart—that the Lord is God; He made us; we belong to Him; His gates are open; His goodness is sure; His mercy will not run out; His truth outlives us and anchors those after us. Aligning the heart to these realities enables us to thank God for what is obviously good and to trust Him for what is not yet good to us. The pastor’s prayer sums it up: may God recognize in this church a genuine spirit of gratitude—for who He is, for what He has done, and for the gift of belonging to a body where imperfect people are learning, together, to enter His courts with praise.