This Week's Devo

  The Sacrifice of Praise

 "Therefore, let us offer through Jesus a continual sacrifice of praise to God, 

proclaiming our allegiance to his name." - Hebrews 13:15

Praising God had always come easily to her. All of her life she had loved lifting her voice to her Creator—she had a gift for seeing the blessing even in the middle of struggle. She loved the Lord with her whole heart, and she knew that every good gift came from Him and every trial was allowed to draw her nearer. 

Thanksgiving had always been her favorite. Year after year, she found creative and meaningful ways to express her gratitude to the Father. 

But this year was different. 

This year, praise felt costly. 

As she knelt at the altar, silent tears streamed down her face. The year had been marked by loss—two miscarriages, a marriage straining under the weight of shared grief, and an identity shaken between who she thought she was and who God was revealing her to be. 

And yet, she knelt.

Still she praised. 

Nothing in her circumstances pushed her toward worship.

It was choice that brought her to her knees in that sacred space of thanksgiving—

the choice to believe that God was still good despite the pain,
the choice to make Him alone her refuge and safety,
the choice to praise Him for who He is rather than what He could give,
the choice to offer a sacrifice of praise in the middle of her darkest storm. 

Thanksgiving week has a way of stirring up both joy and ache—joy for blessings we can see, and ache for the ones we’re still waiting for.

The table fills, the calendar crowds, and our hearts often hold a mixture of celebration and sorrow. And yet, woven through Scripture is an invitation that reaches right into this sacred tension:

Bring a sacrifice of praise.

Not the kind of sacrifice that takes something from us unwillingly, but the kind we choose to bring.

In the Old Testament, a sacrifice of praise was a literal, costly offering. An animal brought to the altar—not out of duty, but out of delight. It was a voluntary expression of gratitude for God’s blessing, peace, or deliverance. It marked answered prayers. It fulfilled vows made in seasons of desperation or longing.

And most beautifully, it often ended in a feast—a communal celebration of God’s goodness and faithfulness, a table spread in response to a heart overwhelmed with gratitude.

These offerings were not about checking a box. They were about recognizing the goodness of God and responding with joyful, tangible thanksgiving.

But something significant shifts in the New Testament.

Because of Jesus—the once-for-all sacrifice—we no longer bring animals to an altar.

Hebrews calls our offering “the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name.” 

It is still a sacrifice, but one made possible through Christ. An offering of praise that flows from the heart, not from ritual.

A continual posture, not a momentary act.
A lifestyle shaped by transformation. 

And yes—sometimes this praise comes easily.

But sometimes, it costs us everything.

It costs us fear.
It costs us complaint.
It costs us self-reliance.
It costs us the desire to understand before we worship.

It asks us to praise God when the heart feels heavy and trust Him when the path ahead feels uncertain.

This is the sacrifice of praise.
Not because God demands it,
but because love compels it.

One of the clearest pictures of this is found in Acts 16.
Paul and Silas—beaten, chained, bloodied, and thrown into the deepest part of a prison—did what the human heart would never naturally choose:

They prayed.
They worshiped.
They sang.

Bruised backs against cold stone, feet shackled, future uncertain—they lifted up a sacrifice of praise.

And Heaven moved.

The earth shook.
The foundations trembled.
Doors flew open.
Chains broke.
A jailer and his family found salvation.

Their sacrifice of praise did more than change their atmosphere—it changed eternity.

Bring Your Offering This Thanksgiving

The woman at the altar reminds us: praise is not always born from ease.

Sometimes it is born from tears.
Sometimes it is born from loss.
Sometimes it is born from the quiet courage of a heart that refuses to let pain speak louder than God’s goodness.

This is the sacrifice of praise—
an offering given when blessings aren’t obvious,
when prayers feel unanswered,
when the heart aches and yet the knees bend anyway.

Because the shelter of the Most High isn’t reserved for those in joyful seasons—it is for the broken, the weary, the grieving, and the searching.

It is for those who kneel at the altars with trembling hands and whispered hallelujahs.

It is for those who bring their praise not out of abundance, but out of surrender.

Paul and Silas did it in a prison cell.
She did it at an altar stained with tears.
And we are invited to do it at our own tables, in our own valleys, in the quiet places where gratitude must be chosen, not felt.

This is the beauty of the sacrifice of praise:
our circumstances are never greater than our God.

So as Thanksgiving week unfolds—
as joy and ache mingle,
as blessings are counted and longings linger—
pause and ask:

What sacrifice of praise is God inviting me to bring this year?

What whispered “thank you” is waiting in the shadows of your sorrow?
What hallelujah is ready to break through the heaviness?

Because when we choose to praise Him in the middle of the storm, we position ourselves to see what only God can do—
foundations shaken,
doors opened,
chains broken,
and hearts transformed by the One who meets us in our praise.

Bring Him your sacrifice of praise this Thanksgiving.

Your tears do not disqualify it.
Your ache does not diminish it.
Your choice to praise in the middle of it all is the offering He treasures most.