Thanks and Stones

Nov 22 2025 Thanks and Stones

“Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”                                                       ~1 Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV)

This verse sounds cheerful enough, almost easy, but in real life, it can feel nearly impossible to follow. And here we are in November, the “Month of Gratitude,” scrolling through thankful posts and gathering around Thanksgiving tables.

It is beautiful, all of it. And some years are easy to give thanks for: blessings stack high, prayers are answered quickly, and gratitude flows without effort.

But then there are years like this one. Perhaps it left your heart tender and soul tired. You walked through valleys you didn’t choose and carried questions with seemingly no answers.

And yet, even in years like this, God does not leave us without reminders of His faithfulness.

In 2016, a year of utter devastation for me, my friend James encouraged me to read about the Ebenezer stones in the Old Testament. James has a lifelong practice of commemorating God’s faithfulness, as the people in the Bible did.

We read in Joshua that when the people of Israel crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land, God instructed them to take twelve stones from the riverbed and set them up as a memorial. “When your children ask… ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord” (Joshua 4:6–7).

Those stones weren’t placed to commemorate ease, but deliverance. Not comfort, but God’s presence through deep waters.

This is where Paul’s exhortation in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 shines like a steady lantern in the dark. Notice Paul doesn’t say for all circumstances, but in them. Gratitude isn’t denial of pain; it’s defiant trust amid the pain.

It’s looking at the Jordan behind us and the stones in our hands and saying, “God was here. God is here. And God will be faithful still.”

And so, I followed the example of the Israelites and began collecting stones of my own. Whenever life presses hard, I find my way to the beach. My favorite stretch of sand is strewn with smooth black rocks. In 2016, during that brutal season, I spotted a heart-shaped stone, shining in the whitewater. It felt like a small gift from heaven, a quiet marker of surviving a month that held a lifetime’s worth of pain. It now rests near my computer on my desk, a steady witness to God’s nearness in suffering.

Other stones are scattered through my home; they are tangible reminders of the Lord’s presence and deliverance. Beside my bed sits another heart-shaped stone, found in 2020. Another Ebenezer from a different tribulation.

As this year closes, perhaps gratitude looks less like a harvest feast and more like gathering stones: remembering moments when He carried you as your feet trembled. The prayer answered quietly. The friend who showed up unexpectedly. The strength given just for that day. The peace that surpassed all understanding.

Let’s lay them down — one by one — and build an altar of remembrance.

Even in the cruelest years, God is faithful. We bow in thanks, not only for the victories but for His steadfast presence in the in-between.

God was here.

God is here.

And God will be faithful still.