I want you to take a breath and envision your ideal supper table. What shape is it? What kind of wood? Is it painted? Does it have four simple legs or an ornate base? How would you describe its aesthetic?
Take another breath and envision who is around your table. Is it family? Friends? Are there empty seats for those you miss? Are there extra chairs for whomever stops by unexpectedly? Do you have highchairs and booster seats around your table?
And finally, I want you to imagine the atmosphere you dream of having around that table. Is it a full table with a quiet and orderly meal and conversation? Are rolls flying as ten different conversations swirl? Is the conversation reminiscent of deep intimacy shared by those at your table? Are your guests polite or are they making themselves at home?
Now hold on to that as we go forward!
Everywhere I turn, it seems like people are leaving. A job, their family, their spouse, a church, the Church, a denomination, a faith. Everybody’s leaving something and no one says what they’re moving towards.
I saw a lot of leaving in my social media feeds this summer as companies that use direct marketers (Young Living, Oliveda, Plexus, Monat, Mary Kay, Modere, etc.) quit marketing through this model. Thousands of people have lost their teams and their incomes as they are forced to leave. I’ve noticed, though, that the most successful folks in this spot soon choose what they’re moving towards, and they start over at a new company and build again.
And if you’ve ever followed any of these folks on social media, you’re probably familiar with their most popular recruiting phrase: “there’s a seat for you at my table.”
Which is so kind! We all want to belong, and we all want opportunities for extra income. The invitation to something that could change your life isn’t spoon-fed to you very often!
The question we need to be asking, though, is this: “what kind of table is this? What kind of seat has been prepared for me?”
Personally, I’ve done a lot of leaving in the past nine months. Community, church, a job, a season of life. Honestly, I’ve left life as I knew it. I’ve left comfortability, security, and certainty. Some would even say I’ve left reality and common sense!
But it wasn’t until all this table talk that it finally clicked for me.
I left the table where my voice was drowned out.
I left the table where I wasn’t cared for.
I left the table that told me to be less.
I left the table because I outgrew my seat.
Just because I had a seat at the table doesn’t mean it’s a place I wanted to be. Just because there’s an open seat doesn’t mean it’s the place for you.
See, my dream table is long and wooden with multiple leaves in it and a few more waiting in the wings. It’s scuffed and scarred from use and life. It’s a heavy-ass table, solid as they come, and it’s an oval – no head, no corners. It’s surrounded by chairs and comes with a bench because you can always squeeze one more in! We’ve got booster seats, high chairs, donut rings, and hemorrhoid cushions because all ages and stages and needs are welcome.
And the food at my table? Mmm-hmmm! It’s soul food, whole food that nourishes your soul and your body, feeding your stomach and filling your lonely spots. It’s been prepared intentionally, and no matter what “free from” food your body needs, there is food for you to eat. It’s a “serve yourself” kitchen cause at my table, you’re home.
Conversations swirl and rolls probably fly…it ain’t family without some shenanigans! And yet, no one is left behind. All are included and heard. All are encouraged to share, speak, laugh, and joke. And yes, tears are welcome, too – we always have tissues.
I’ve learned there is a difference between a table crammed full of chairs so the one at the head looks good and the table that is intentionally and comfortably full with space and room to expand and grow.
And hear me - we aren’t all meant to build our own table. If we did that, we’d have a bunch of lonely people sittin’ by themselves and that just defeats the purpose of a table!
But we are all meant to sit at a table that purposefully and carefully cares for you. It’s a little slice of heaven on earth. A peek into what God intended for us originally and what He has planned for us eternally.
I would hate for you to leave something and flounder. I would hate for you to leave where you’re at and wind up sitting somewhere just the same or worse.
See, leaving can be easy, but leaving and moving to something better is much harder.
I don’t know about you, but after looking and seeking for a while, it’s easy for me to believe that the better thing I left for doesn’t actually exist. Finding a place to sit can be a discouraging and exhausting experience.
So let me leave you with this.
My husband and I hadn’t set foot in a church for six months – the pain was still fresh and our wounds still healing. But one Sunday, we found ourselves inside a small congregation in Milwaukee, WI. Those leading us in worship were racially diverse. So were those of us worshipping. A woman in a wheelchair rocked with her hands lifted to Heaven near the front of the sanctuary. The pastor acknowledged every possible version of motherhood in his sermon and asked the congregation for loose change to buy baby supplies for single mothers.
At the end of the service, we couldn’t sneak out. The baby of a single mom was thrust at us so she could hug a friend. I found conversation in the bathroom, and I found my husband with an elder. We left seen, heard, cared for, and encouraged.
That congregation restored our hope in the body of Christ. They unknowingly were the tools God used to begin redeeming our church hurt.
Sometimes, on our journey to find the table prepared for us, we sit for a meal or two at someone else’s. We’re served by people we won’t see again, and their food sustains us as we travel on. They meet us where we are in the moment, and we leave nourished – mind, heart, body, and soul.
If the table you’re at isn’t serving you, isn’t caring for you, and isn’t including you in the service and care of others, maybe it’s not prepared for you. It’s okay to leave.
If the table you’re at ignores you, speaks poorly of you, and uses you, leave the damn table. It does not reflect Heaven’s joy at your presence.
And if you find yourself looking for a place to sit, keep looking. You left the known security of your warm seat for a reason. Move towards the better seat being prepared for you. I promise it is out there.
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