There’s been a lot of table talk lately. And then we’ve cleared, washed and moved those wooden four legged pieces. Those tables. We’ve stacked them and unstacked them – adding chairs and taking them away – hustling and bustling to make sure everyone gets a spot. To make sure there’s enough room for each body at the table.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life on my own, it’s this: there’s never enough room at the table.
I was born into a family that couldn’t or didn’t want to make room for me at their table. And so I, along with my half-sister, were placed into foster care. And there, I quickly learned there wouldn’t be room for either of us. We were later adopted and though we entered a family of ordinary size, it grew. And over the years, twelve became our number, and that number left little room at the table. Folded chairs were popular and more often than not, a step stool was always needed. And after the house fire we lived in a double wide trailer for six months. With that many children, table room is hard to come by. We sat on buckets and we sat on floors.
Yes, life seemed to teach that there is never enough room at the table.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned with a life lived in and through and with Christ, it’s this: there is always enough room at His table. And not only is there room at His table, He sets it.
He breaks the bread.
He pours the wine.
And He serves.
You, my friend, are more than worthy to take a seat at the Father’s table. So pull up a chair and be fed.