Jesus Is The Center of Everything

There’s a gravitational pull inside every one of us—a quiet drift toward making something other than Jesus the center of our lives. It happens without fanfare or rebellion. A worry grows louder. A desire gets heavier. A responsibility becomes all-consuming. And before we even notice, our hearts start orbiting around something too small, too fragile, too temporary to hold the weight of our souls.
And when anything other than Jesus becomes the center, everything starts to shake.
Our peace thins out.
Our gratitude dries up.
Our joy flickers like a candle in the wind.
Because we were never made to hold our lives together—we were made to be held.
But the gospel breaks in with a better word:
Jesus is the center of everything.
Not by preference.
Not by personality.
By reality.
Paul says in Colossians 1 that all things—all things—were created through Him and for Him, and in Him all things hold together. The universe doesn’t hold Him up. He holds up the universe. And that includes you—your past, your pain, your purpose, the pieces of you you don’t know what to do with.
Alistair Begg so often reminds us that “the main things are the plain things”—and here’s the plainest truth you will ever hear:
There is no life that stands firm unless Christ stands at the center.
And here’s where the fire of the gospel meets the tenderness of Jesus:
He is not content to be an accessory in the life He purchased with His blood. He will not stay on the margins. He will not be managed. He is too glorious, too lovely, too sufficient to be anything less than Lord, Friend, Shepherd, Savior, and Center.
And yet—oh, how kind He is with our wandering hearts.
He does not shrug His shoulders when we drift.
He does not cross His arms when our gratitude fades.
He does not roll His eyes when we place lesser things on thrones they cannot occupy.
He comes for us.
Again and again.
Not with shame, but with mercy.
Not with scolding, but with steadfast love.
He recenters us with grace far stronger than our self-made chaos.
And here—on the doorstep of Thanksgiving—this truth becomes a refuge:
Gratitude doesn’t come from perfect circumstances.
It comes from a perfect Christ.
It’s not rooted in the year we hoped for, but in the Savior who never failed us.
Not in what we accomplished, but in what He finished.
Not in the security we built, but in the salvation He secured.
Gratitude blooms where Christ is the center, because when we look at Him, we remember that every good gift flows from His hand—
the breath in our lungs,
the people we love,
the grace that saved us,
the mercy that holds us,
the strength that keeps us,
the hope that carries us to the end.
So maybe this Thanksgiving the most freeing, life-giving, soul-steadying prayer is this:
“Jesus, take Your rightful place at the center again.”
Be the center of my gratitude—because every blessing whispers Your name.
Be the center of my peace—because I am held by hands that will never let me go.
Be the center of my joy—because nothing in this world compares to You.
And as you gather around tables, or navigate complicated feelings, or sit in a quiet room with a heart that’s heavier than you expected—lift your eyes.
Look at the One who holds the galaxies in place and still holds you close.
Look at the One who conquered the grave and still walks beside you.
Look at the One who is worthy of being the center—not just of everything, but of you.
Because Jesus is, and always will be, the center of everything.
And when He is the center of your life, you can face anything—with gratitude, with peace, and with a heart anchored in a love that will never let you go.