The First Thanksgiving: A Feast of Providence
The Psalmist sings: “Oh give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever!” (Psalm 106:1; 107:1; 118:1, 29; 136:1-3)
The First Thanksgiving took place in the autumn of 1621. After the Pilgrims, led by Governor William Bradford, survived a devastating winter that took half their company, the Lord saw fit to bless them with His good providence. With the unexpected help of a Native named Tisquantum (Squanto), who taught them to plant corn, fish local waters, and survive the New England climate, the colony’s first harvest was joyfully abundant. In gratitude for God’s providential mercy, Bradford organized a three-day feast of worship and celebration, joined by Massasoit and more than ninety Wampanoag men.
While the relationship between the Pilgrims and the Natives was often marked by violence, the story of Plymouth Colony under Governor Bradford stands out as something far different—a small, fragile community striving to live faithfully in a foreign land. The Pilgrims made and honored covenants, pursued peace, and gave glory to God. Though modern retellings often revise this event, the Pilgrim account remains a glittering example of humility, hospitality, and joy.
Interestingly, everything we know about the First Thanksgiving comes from just two primary sources: (1) Mourt’s Relation (1622), written by Edward Winslow, and (2) Of Plymouth Plantation, written by Bradford between the 1630s–1650s.
Winslow gives the only firsthand description of the feast:
“Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruits of our labors… Many of the Indians coming amongst us… whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed on our governor…”
As the young nation matured, presidents regularly looked back to this Pilgrim feast as a symbol of humility, gratitude, and dependence on God. Early proclamations often connected national thanksgiving with repentance, providence, and public worship—emphasizing that the wellbeing of the nation rested ultimately in the hands of Almighty God.
Centuries later, Thanksgiving became a national tradition. Abraham Lincoln officially set aside the third Thursday of November in 1863 calling for “a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.” He echoed the first presidential proclamation of thanksgiving from George Washington in 1789, who urged the young nation to acknowledge “the providence of Almighty God, to obey His will, to be grateful for His benefits, and humbly to implore His protection and favor.” And in our own day, President Donald Trump likewise affirmed, “Above all, we offer our endless gratitude to Almighty God for His love, grace, and infinite blessings.”
Thanksgiving is—and always has been—a distinctly Christian holiday. It is a day to feast on the goodness of God and all that He has graciously provided. So may today be filled with joy abundant—full bellies, full cups, full homes, and full hearts. May the Sovereign God of eternity be the centerpiece of praise in your heart. And may worship, humility, and gratitude overflow from the people of God.
Consider reading Psalm 136 on your own or with your family. If you’re a father, you could read the first line and your family can respond with “for his steadfast love endures forever.”
Today, I am meditating on “God the Source of All Good (lightly modernized)” from The Valley of Vision—a collection of Puritan prayers:
“O LORD GOD, WHO INHABITS ETERNITY,
The heavens declare your glory, The earth displays your riches, The universe is your temple. Your presence fills all things, Yet in your pleasure you have created life and shared your happiness with your creatures.
You have made me what I am and given me all that I possess. In you I live and move and have my being. Your providence has set the boundaries of my life and wisely governs all my affairs.
I thank you for your riches to me in Jesus—for the clear revelation of Him in your Word, where I behold His person, character, grace, glory, humiliation, sufferings, death, and resurrection.
Give me a deep sense of my continual need for His saving work. Let me cry with Job, “I am vile,” with Peter, “I perish,” with the tax collector, “Be merciful to me, a sinner.”
Subdue in me the love of sin. Let me know my need for renewal as well as forgiveness, so that I may serve and enjoy you forever.
I come to you in the all-prevailing name of Jesus, with nothing of my own to offer—no works, no worthiness, no promises.
I often stray, often knowingly resist your authority, often abuse your goodness. Much of my guilt arises from the very privileges of being yours—my low estimation of them, my failure to use them for my good.
Yet I am not indifferent to your favor or careless of your glory. Impress on me deeply your omnipresence—that you are with me in my path, my ways, my lying down, my end."
