We live in a culture that equates more with a better life. Contentment and satisfaction are promised by more income, more possessions, more likes, and more security, but that voice is never truly satisfied. It whispers that if we just had one more thing or one less worry, we could finally relax. It tells us that giving thanks can wait until we have what we want, and so that voice never stops asking. It drains us, steals our peace, stirs our fears, and convinces us that we are always one step short of having enough.

And right here, as we start this Thanksgiving week, that voice grows louder. It encourages us to compare our blessings instead of simply counting them. It tempts us to focus on what we lack rather than thank God for what we have. It distracts us from God's goodness by constantly highlighting the gaps in our lives.

This message series, More Than Enough, is a two-week invitation back to the table God has prepared for us. It is a table of grace, belonging, and hope. As we approach Thanksgiving, we will rediscover what it means to trust God for our daily needs, to open our lives so others can belong, and to be grateful for what we already have. Because Thanksgiving is not about the size of your table, it is about the condition of your heart.

In other words, it’s not about how much you have, but about the one who gave it. And so, no matter where you have been or what you have done, there is more than enough grace, more than enough mercy, and more than enough reason to give thanks in Christ Jesus.

And that is exactly where today’s message begins, at a pool called Bethesda in John chapter 5. There, we meet a man who has forgotten how to give thanks because he has lost sight of the truth, but he’s about to come face-to-face with the One who is the way, the truth, and the life.

Verse 3 states that at this pool, a large number of disabled people used to lie: the blind, the lame, and the paralyzed.

“One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years” (John 5:5).

For 38 years, he has endured the same pain, the same cycle, the same routine, reliving the same disappointments. For 38 years, he's been stuck, and when someone remains stuck for so long, gratitude fades away. You don’t just stop moving; your hope diminishes, and you lose the ability to give thanks.

This man was in that condition when Jesus confronted him with the truth. To prepare him for a miracle, he doesn’t start with healing; he begins with truth because gratitude can’t grow in soil that refuses the truth. And so, verse 6 says,

“When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’” (John 5:6).

Instead of answering Jesus, the man gave him a story.

“Sir, I have no one to help me into the pool…” (John 5:7).

And that’s how many people start their week of Thanksgiving—focused on those who didn’t help them, those who left them, those who disappointed them, and those who got ahead of them. Many of us concentrate on what went wrong instead of on who has been good, yet Scripture repeatedly urges us to pause, remember, and thank God. for his goodness, because gratitude strengthens our faith and keeps our hearts aligned with him.

But as long as you protect the lie, you stay stuck. As long as you rewrite the story, you remain unhealed. As long as you hide the truth, you cannot find gratitude, because Thanksgiving requires honesty. You can’t thank God for freedom while clinging to excuses. You can’t thank God for blessings while blaming everyone else for your situation. Gratitude starts where truth begins.

“Jesus said to him, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked” (John 5:8-9).

Now, let’s move from John chapter 5 to Luke chapter 7 because the woman we are about to meet shows us what gratitude looks like when truth leads the way. In Luke’s gospel, we are about to meet a woman who doesn’t hide, doesn’t make excuses, doesn’t blame others, doesn’t protect her pride, but she comes to Jesus with honesty, humility, and thankfulness.

This is important as we reflect on the opportunities before us this Thanksgiving week because gratitude is not automatic. Gratitude is a choice. Gratitude demands humility. Gratitude requires honesty. Giving thanks means stopping the rehearsing of past pain long enough to see that God’s grace is more than enough for today.

The man at the pool kept waiting for others to help him, rehearsing decades of disappointment and clinging to excuses that stole his gratitude, but Luke tells us in verse 37:

“When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume” (Luke 7:37).

In other words, she came to worship and to give thanks, not with leftovers or scraps, not with what was easy. What she brought was costly and her very best to offer the Lord.

“And as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears” (Luke 7:38).

These were honest tears—tears of release, freedom, and gratitude. She wasn’t thankful because her life was easy; she was thankful because Jesus loved her anyway. She teaches us that genuine gratitude doesn’t start at the Thanksgiving table; it begins at the feet of Jesus.

Her worship and her gratitude stemmed from the same place where her guilt once resided, because only Jesus can turn guilt into freedom, guilt into gratitude, and verse 38 tells us,

“Then she wiped (Jesus’ feet) with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them” (Luke 7:38).

This woman shows us what thanksgiving looks like in the presence of Jesus: not coming with a perfect life, but with an honest heart, bringing your best to Jesus. And it was her tears that said, “I am grateful that you didn’t turn me away, grateful that you still want me, grateful that you see more in me than what I have been.” And that is the heart of Thanksgiving, recognizing that God has been better to us than we deserve.

And so, the same hands that once reached for sin now reach for Jesus. The same heart that once wandered is now surrendered, and her worship flows from the broken places of her life, but not everyone in the room understands.

“When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner’” (Luke 7:39).

Simon’s criticism reveals what happens when pride clouds the heart. He welcomed Jesus into his home but lacked gratitude, because he had religion without thanksgiving, knowledge without worship, and pride prevents gratitude from thriving in a heart.

We have the same people in our lives today — people who only see the worst in us, who only remember what we used to be, or who label us by our lowest moment. But Jesus sees the moment we turn, he recognizes the repentance, the surrender, the tears, and the desire to be made whole.

And so, this woman wasn’t just worshiping; she was surrendering. She wasn’t just pouring out perfume; she was pouring out her past. She wasn’t just kneeling at his feet; she was giving Jesus access to the parts of her soul she could no longer handle. And because she did, grace rushed to meet her.

To protect her and reveal what was really happening in the room, Jesus answers Simon’s thoughts, responds to his inner words, and speaks directly to Simon’s heart.

"Simon, I have something to tell you” (Luke 7:40).

Jesus doesn’t embarrass the woman, he doesn’t correct her, he doesn’t silence her weeping; instead, he turns to the man who thinks he can see clearly and gently reveals how blind he actually is. Jesus tells Simon:

“Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty” (Luke 7:41).

In other words, both men were in debt. One owed a lot, the other owed a little, but both of them were broke. Jesus continues speaking, saying,

“Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he cancelled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” (Luke 7:42).

Simon gives the right answer, but with the wrong intention. He replied,

"I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled." Jesus says, "You have judged correctly” (Luke 7:43).

But Jesus wasn’t finished; he didn’t tell the parable to teach Simon math. Instead, he was revealing that Simon's misunderstanding of God’s grace was the real issue. He was about to show him that the problem wasn’t the size of anyone’s debt, but the size of their honesty.

“Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman?” (Luke 7:44).

Jesus wasn’t asking about his eyesight; he was asking about his insight, his spiritual understanding. Simon had already seen this woman and judged her regardless of her actions or her tears. But Jesus was asking, “Do you understand what God is doing in her? Do you see who she’s becoming?” And in this moment, Jesus draws a line between religion and genuine repentance.

“I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair” (Luke 7:44).

In other words, you gave me nothing, but she gave me everything.

“You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet” (Luke 7:45).

He says you kept your distance, but she humbled herself and came close.

“You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet” (Luke 7:46).

You held back your worship, but she has poured hers out freely.

Do you see the difference? Religion hides appearances, keeps up reputations, measures sin, and says, “I’m not that bad.” In contrast, repentance reveals the truth, uncovers the heart, surrenders sin, and says, “Lord, I need you.”

Jesus shows Simon and all of us that it’s possible to sit at the table with Jesus and still miss him entirely. It’s possible to be in the same room and not experience the grace flowing just a few feet away. It’s possible to know the Scriptures but not truly know the Savior.

This woman entered the room with a bad reputation, but she brought the truth, and Jesus brought grace. That leads us to the most powerful moment in the entire passage as Jesus looks at her, not at her critics, not at her reputation, not at her past, and he says to Simon.

“I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much” (Luke 7:47).

Jesus is not celebrating her past or her sins. He is honoring her honesty, her truthfulness, and the humility that creates space for grace. Then he speaks the words every wounded, guilty, exhausted heart longs to hear.

“Your sins are forgiven” (Luke 7:48).

The people in the room started to squirm; they whispered, and the religious spirit became uneasy. They said to each other, “Who is this that even forgives sins?” And they questioned him, judged him, but she didn’t care because she had heard the only voice that mattered. When Jesus speaks forgiveness over your life, the opinions of others lose their power.

This is the core of Thanksgiving: not family gatherings, turkey, pumpkin pie, or even football. Thanksgiving starts with forgiveness because God’s forgiveness is the greatest gift we have received and the main reason we give thanks.

But Jesus wasn’t finished; he’s about to give her the gift every heart needs this season.

“Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (Luke 7:50).

Not in the fragments of who you used to be, not defined by what you lack, but grateful for what Jesus has given you.

You see, when grace encounters truth, peace fills the room, guilt loses its hold, shame lifts off your shoulders, and worship emerges from places you thought were dead. When grace encounters truth, you can finally walk in the peace only Jesus provides. Because when grace encounters truth, the past loses its hold, and peace becomes possible again.

The man at the pool shows us what happens when we live a lie. The woman at Jesus' feet shows us what happens when we confess the truth. One remained stuck for 38 years, repeating the same story, giving the same excuses, and blaming the same people. The other walked out forgiven in a single moment because she held nothing back. One hid behind a story he created, and the other exposed the story she lived. One pointed fingers at everyone else, and the other took responsibility for herself.

And here is the lesson for each of us today: truth brings us to Jesus, and grace is what sets us free. This is why we celebrate at the Lord’s table, because communion is the moment where grace and truth come together again. The bread confronts the truth that we needed a Savior. The cup confronts the truth that sin required a sacrifice. But both elements reveal a greater truth: that the grace of Jesus Christ is more than enough for every sin, every failure, every wound, and every secret we carry.

As we come to a close, we will celebrate communion together and remember the incredible grace of God. And so, today, bring him your truth. Bring him your confession. Bring him the parts you have tried to hide. Bring him the pieces of your story you have rewritten. Bring him the guilt you have carried for too long. And let the grace of Jesus meet you right there.

Because when grace meets truth, freedom begins. When grace meets truth, healing starts. When grace meets truth, peace begins to rise in places where shame once lived. That’s where the good news shines through because there is someone who loves you with a love deeper than anything you've ever imagined. His name is Jesus, and he came to earth to step into your pain, to carry your hurt, and to lift the weight of your sin. We call him the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame (Hebrews 12:2).

Today, he wants to settle it once and for all. He has already done his part; he died on the cross for you, and three days later, he rose from the dead and sat down at the right hand of God's throne. And so right now, he is interceding for you, offering his forgiveness, willing to take your sin, take your guilt, and breathe life into places that have felt dead for years.

This morning, his invitation still stands, and he says,

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

Jesus described himself as the seed that would be planted. In other words, he gave his life and was buried so that many could experience God's grace. God raised him from the dead so that anyone who calls on the name of Jesus will be forgiven, saved, and completely transformed. Through his one life, he brings a harvest of new life into yours.

When you call on the name of Jesus, he hears your prayer, forgives your sins, and makes you right with God. It’s not because of your goodness, but because of his goodness and grace. In a moment, with one prayer, every sin can be forgiven, every chain broken, and you can be made completely new.

This is why we approach the Lord’s table today. The bread reminds us of his body, given for our healing. The cup reminds us of his blood, poured out for our forgiveness. And so, as we receive communion, we come to the table saying, “Lord, here is my truth, made it with your grace.” This is the place where shame is lifted, where guilt is washed away, and where peace begins to settle over your life.

Right now, as we prepare to receive the bread and the cup, offer him your truth. Offer him your heart. Offer him your confession. And let the grace of Jesus meet you in this moment, because his grace is more than enough.

Graphics, notes, and commentary from LifeChurch, Ministry Pass, PC Study Bible, Preaching Library, and Sermon Central. Scripture from the New International Version unless otherwise noted.