Thankful for the People Who Changed My Mind
How disagreement, discomfort, and grace have helped me grow up
I’ve spent a lot of my life being sure.
Sure about politics.
Sure about theology.
Sure about what “those people” were like.
If you’ve read me for any length of time, you know I still have convictions. I don’t believe the answer is to float through life with a shrug and a “who’s to say?” about everything that matters. But as I look back this Thanksgiving, some of the people I’m most grateful for are the ones who interrupted my certainty.
Not the ones who nodded along and confirmed I’d been right all along.
The ones who made it harder to stay the same.
The gift of disagreement
I can think of old friends, coworkers, and readers who pushed back on me at just the right (or wrong) time.
Some did it gently, with a question that lingered long after the conversation ended:
“Have you ever considered why that story hits you so hard?”
“Do you think that’s fair to people who grew up differently than you?”
Others were more direct:
“Will, I agree with your point, but the way you’re saying it is going to make it impossible for anyone to hear you.”
I remember one conversation in particular where a friend shared what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a policy I had only ever debated in the abstract. I walked into that conversation feeling very sure of myself and walked out feeling… less so. Nothing dramatic happened. No one “won.” But something in me had shifted. Their story wouldn’t leave me alone.
At the time, that kind of pushback stung. It’s always easier to believe your critics are just “too sensitive” or “not serious enough” than to sit with the possibility that they might be right about you.
But over time, those conversations did something important: they slowed me down. They made me re-examine the stories I’d inherited about faith, politics, culture, and even about myself. They taught me that there is a big difference between having convictions and needing to win every argument.
That slowing down has been a gift.
Gratitude for being interruptible
So this year, I’m especially thankful for people who didn’t just tell me what I wanted to hear.
I’m thankful for the friend who shared their experience of being on the receiving end of ideas I treated like debating points.
I’m thankful for the pastor who reminded me that “truth” without love is not as biblical as I thought it was.
I’m thankful for readers who’ve pushed back in the comments, not to “own” me, but to say, “I’m with you on the destination, but I think you’re missing something important along the way.”
And I’m thankful, strangely enough, for the discomfort that comes with realizing you may have been wrong—or at least incomplete. That discomfort has been one of the ways God has pried my fingers off of my own ego and invited me into something truer, humbler, and more humane.
If growth is possible at all, then we ought to be grateful for the people and moments that made staying the same feel impossible. Being interruptible isn’t a failure of conviction; it’s a sign that your heart is still capable of learning.
A different kind of Thanksgiving list
So this year, alongside the usual gratitude list—family, friends, health, work—I’m adding a slightly awkward category:
People who challenged my tone.
People who complicated my politics.
People who showed me that “the other side” isn’t a caricature but a person.
People whose faith looked different than mine but felt deeply rooted and alive.
I don’t agree with all of them on everything. I don’t need to. That’s not the point.
The point is that they helped me become a little more honest, a little more patient, and a little more aware of how limited my own perspective can be. And that is something worth giving thanks for.
In a world that rewards doubling down, I’m grateful for the quiet, stubborn hope that we are not stuck as the people we were ten or fifteen years ago.
An invitation
As you think about your own life, you might try this: instead of only asking, “Who has supported me?” also ask,
“Who has lovingly disrupted me?”
Who forced you to see a neighbor where you used to see an enemy?
Who challenged a belief that needed to be examined?
Who nudged you toward a truer version of yourself?
If someone comes to mind, maybe today is a good day to send a note or a text and simply say:
“You changed my mind in an important way, and I’m grateful.”
And if you’re willing, I’d love to hear about one of those people in the comments—no names needed, just the story.
However your Thanksgiving looks this year—loud or quiet, crowded or small—I hope it includes at least a moment to give thanks for the people who refused to let you stay who you were, and in doing so, helped you become who you’re meant to be.