As we enter this week of Thanksgiving, many of us are preparing to gather around tables, screens, or quiet spaces—to pause and give thanks. For some, this season brings joy and abundance; for others, it arrives in the midst of weariness or recovery. Gratitude meets us where we are. It reminds us that even when life slows, bends, or aches, God’s steadfast love remains.
That truth became personal for me this past Sunday. Our church held its annual Thanksgiving praise service, but I wasn’t able to attend in person—I had injured my back. So, I watched from my living room, lying flat and still, singing softly along with the livestream. It gave new meaning to the idea of praising God in every circumstance. My posture was different, but my heart was lifted all the same. Gratitude filled the room not because of comfort, but because of the constancy of God’s presence.
Around the same time, I thought of my friend Jeff, a pastor in South Philadelphia, who recently underwent a complicated surgery. From his hospital bed, IV in his arm, he raised his hand in worship as he joined his church online. The photo he shared captures more than a moment—it’s a testimony. There he was, in a place of weakness, offering praise.
These scenes bring Psalm 63 to life. David, too, found himself in a wilderness—a place of limitation and dependence. Yet even there, he declared:
“Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands.” (vv 3-4)
David’s praise wasn’t circumstantial—it was covenantal. His environment didn’t dictate his worship; God’s steadfast love did. When he lifted his hands, he wasn’t performing a ritual—he was embodying surrender, dependence, and remembrance.
Why Do We Lift Our Hands?
Across the world, countless worshippers lift their hands in song or prayer. Why? Perhaps because the body remembers what the heart believes. Raised hands signal both need and gratitude. They say, “I receive” and “I release.” They remind us that God’s love reaches further than our strength, that He sustains us in every place—from sanctuaries and living rooms to hospital beds and wildernesses.
In lifting our hands, we’re not trying to rise above life’s challenges—we’re acknowledging that His steadfast love is better than life itself.
Practicing Thanksgiving as Worship
This week, as we give thanks, we’re invited to see gratitude not as a polite acknowledgment but as worship in motion. True thanksgiving is an act of remembrance—it looks back on God’s faithfulness and looks forward with trust.
Pause for a few moments to remember:
- Where have you experienced God’s steadfast love this year—in provision, peace, or quiet strength?
- Who has embodied His faithfulness toward you?
- In what wilderness places has He met you with comfort and hope?
Reflection Questions for the Journey
- What would it look like to make gratitude a daily rhythm rather than a seasonal practice?
- How might physically lifting your hands—literally or symbolically—reshape your posture of praise this week?
- In your home, organization, or community, where could you celebrate God’s faithfulness together?
- What wilderness moments might become your next testimony of His steadfast love?
A Communal Blessing
As we give thanks this week, may we remember that gratitude is not the end of worship but the beginning of it. May our lips and lives echo David’s confession: Your steadfast love is better than life.
May our hands rise in surrender and celebration. And may our thanksgiving open the way for renewed joy, peace, and wisdom—in our homes, our work, and our worship.
[Adapted from Volume 2 | Devotional 51 of the Wisdom Calling devotional series]