The fence debate? That’s fictional. But the tension, the accusations, the shift in perspective when one person spoke up in this story? That all actually happened.
There I sat in a community board meeting last week, watching two grown adults argue about whether a fence should be six feet or six-and-a-half feet tall with the intensity of lawyers at the Supreme Court. The accusations flew. “This is illegal!” someone shouted. Yes, illegal. A volunteer board serving their neighbors was apparently running a criminal enterprise over twelve inches of chain link.
I couldn’t help but think: This is exactly what my Thanksgiving table is going to look like in two weeks.
The Statistics Don’t Lie
According to a recent survey by the American Psychological Association, nearly 40% of Americans report increased stress during the holidays, with family gatherings being a primary source. Another study found that 25% of people avoid family holiday gatherings altogether due to anticipated conflict. And here’s my favorite statistic: searches for “how to avoid politics at Thanksgiving” spike by over 300% every November. We’ve literally turned gratitude season into survival season.
The Gentle Gentleman Who Changed Everything
But back to that board meeting. Just when I thought someone was going to flip a table (or at least a very strongly worded agenda), a quiet gentleman in the front row raised his hand. He didn’t yell. He didn’t accuse. He simply said, “Friends, we all want the same thing—to serve our neighbors well. Could we remember that for a moment?”
The room went silent. It was like someone had pressed a cosmic pause button. The perspective shifted. Suddenly, Fence-Gate 2025 looked a lot less like a federal case and a lot more like neighbors who actually cared deeply about doing the right thing—they were just seeing the problem from completely different angles.
That Still, Small Voice
That gentle gentleman reminded me of Someone else who lives in each of us who follow Christ. You know Him. The Holy Spirit. That still, small voice that whispers, “Maybe this isn’t the hill to die on.” The one we conveniently ignore when we’re on a roll explaining why our green bean casserole recipe is objectively superior to Aunt Margaret’s.
Here’s the thing about Thanksgiving dinner: we’re all coming to the table with our own perspectives, shaped by our experiences, our wounds, our fears, and yes, our political news feeds. Cousin Brad thinks the mashed potatoes need more butter. Cousin Jennifer thinks butter is basically poison. And somehow this becomes a referendum on personal values, lifestyle choices, and possibly the fate of Western civilization.
We’re ready to sacrifice relationships on the altar of being right about sweet potato casserole toppings. (For the record, it’s marshmallows. Fight me. Or better yet, don’t.)
What If We Tapped Into Real Power?
But what if we listened to that Gentleman within us? What if we actually tapped into the same power that raised Christ from the dead—not to win arguments, but to love people deeply, even when they’re wrong about literally everything? (I’m kidding. Mostly.)
The Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 2:3-4, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” Notice Paul didn’t say, “Unless they bring up politics” or “Except when they criticize your cooking” or “But definitely not if they park in your spot.”
Here’s the beautiful, uncomfortable truth: the Holy Spirit is remarkably unconcerned with our need to be right. The Spirit is far more interested in us being loving. The Spirit isn’t checking scorecards for who won the most arguments. The Spirit is working in us to produce fruit we cannot produce with our flesh—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23, in case you want to put it on your refrigerator as a pre-Thanksgiving reminder.)
A Different Choice
So this Thanksgiving, what if we made a different choice? What if, when Uncle Frank starts his yearly tradition of Controversial Takes at the Turkey Table, we listened to that gentle gentleman? What if we said, “You know what, Frank? Tell me more about your new hobby instead. I heard you’re growing tomatoes.”
This doesn’t mean we abandon truth or conviction. It means we remember that the person across the table is more important than being right about the thing we’re arguing about. It means we recognize that the same God who loved us when we were dead wrong (literally) might be calling us to extend that same grace to the people who are wrong about cranberry sauce coming from a can. (I happen to love the canned stuff, and it shows.)
The power of perspective is remarkable. It can turn a room full of enemies into neighbors. It can turn a tense dinner into a testimony. It can make Thanksgiving actually about thanksgiving.
This year, let’s draw on the power that raised Christ from the dead to make this the best Thanksgiving ever—not because everyone agrees with us, but because we loved each other so deeply that it covers a multitude of sins and our Father gets the glory. Even if Uncle Frank still thinks pumpkin pie is overrated.
(He’s wrong, but we love him anyway.)