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Revelation 21:4 “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

Think

It’s Thanksgiving. A day for turkey, family, football, and – hopefully – a nap. But underneath all the food and festivity is something deeper. Today is a reminder to say thank you—to recognize the good gifts in our lives and remember the Giver behind them.

The hard part is, not every Thanksgiving feels worth celebrating. Maybe there’s an empty chair at the table this year. Maybe the family tension is thick, or the loneliness is louder than the laughter. For some, gratitude feels more like a task than a joy. That’s why this promise in Revelation 21:4 matters so much.

God says that in heaven, he will personally wipe every tear. Every one. The grief you’ve carried quietly. The anxiety that churns beneath the surface. The losses that you still feel in your chest. Gone. Not ignored or minimized, but healed.

It’s easy to think of heaven as a future hope disconnected from our present pain. But Revelation gives us both comfort and clarity. Heaven isn’t just a better version of now—it’s a complete restoration of what’s been lost. No more mourning. No more death. No more crying. No more pain. That’s the kind of future that fuels present gratitude.

Because when you know the ending is secure, you can live differently in the middle.

Think of it like this: imagine you’re watching your favorite movie again, but this time with a friend who’s never seen it. During the plot twists and emotional scenes, they’re on the edge of their seat. They don’t know what’s coming. But you do. You know that the heartbreak gets resolved. That the tension leads to triumph. It doesn’t make the middle any less intense—but it changes how you feel while watching it.

That’s what the promise of heaven does for us. It doesn’t erase the hard parts of life, but it anchors us in something deeper. It says, “This pain is not permanent. This sorrow will not last.” And that truth makes room for gratitude, even in the middle of grief.

Gratitude in heaven won’t be forced or fragile. It will be full. Our thanks will be whole, not because life has been easy, but because God has been faithful. Every joy will be amplified. Every loss will be redeemed. And the God who made us will be with us, face to face, forever.

But that kind of gratitude doesn’t have to wait until we get there. We can start practicing it now. Not the shallow, polished kind that says everything’s fine when it isn’t—but the kind that says, “Even in this, I trust you.” Gratitude that rests on who God is, not just what’s going on.

When Paul writes about thanksgiving, he often connects it to peace. He says things like, “Be thankful… and the peace of Christ will rule in your hearts.” That’s not accidental. There’s a kind of peace that only comes from choosing gratitude, even when life doesn’t make sense. It’s not denial. It’s defiance—the holy kind. It says, “I know how this ends. And I’m going to thank God now, even as I wait.”

Heaven will be a place of total restoration. And that truth can give you the courage to keep moving forward. Every unseen sacrifice, every quiet loss, every ache you’ve carried—none of it is wasted. God sees it. And one day, he will wipe every tear from your eyes, not with pity, but with tenderness. You won’t just be comforted. You’ll be whole.

So if this Thanksgiving feels full, celebrate. Feast. Laugh. Enjoy. And let it remind you of the feast to come. If this Thanksgiving feels hard, take a deep breath. God sees you. You’re not alone. And he is still preparing a place where pain won’t get the final word.

Heaven gives us a reason to be thankful every day—not because life is perfect, but because God’s promises are. You can hold both grief and gratitude. You can feel the sting of absence and still trust the presence of God. You can cry and give thanks. And one day, those tears will be gone for good.

Apply

Set aside a few quiet minutes today and name three things that you're truly thankful for—not just in the moment, but in light of eternity. Then, thank God for the promise that even the things you don’t understand today will one day be made right in his presence.

Pray

God, thank you that your promises are bigger than my pain. Even when I don’t feel it, help me trust that you’re near. Thank you for the hope of heaven, where every tear will be wiped away. Teach me to be thankful not just for the good moments, but for your faithfulness in the hard ones. I want to live with a heart that remembers what’s coming. In Jesus’ name. Amen.