The Table

One step, two-step, three-step, four. 

One breath, two breaths, three breaths more. 

Silence pierced her soul as she sat, in an attempt to release. 

Sitting - alone? No, she couldn't. 

Opening one hand, and then the other. 

She listened to voices, conformed to some, believed some until they began defining her. 

She was defined as "happy," the girl who "did" things rightly, 

But her heart craved to know that who she was was enough. 

Guilt, shame, pride, fear, arrogance, greed, selfishness all overtook her soul, 

They sought to destroy her. 

Busy, busy, hurry, rush. 

Work, burn, grind, rush. 

Weep, tired, angry, rush. 

Hush. 

Spirit rushed in, hushing her soul, 

quiet, oh soul, quiet. Be silent. 

Still. Be still. 

Still, she cried, wept, hurried, tried 

To earn something not intended to be earned, rather than reveling, savoring, delighting in it. 

Hush, dear one. Hush, daughter, Hush, beauty. You are safe here. 

Feeling undeserving hindered her from sitting in His presence. 

Feeling like an intruder, an imposter, feeling too broken, feeling like numbing herself was the better way, feeling like she had gone too far astray, feeling like she couldn't do anything to earn or deserve His affection. This is too good to be true. 

The voices in her head spun in a chaotic form, one way and then the other, with no landing place. She removed the platform in her heart where the lies were once welcome to stay, and so they left. Suddenly, a brilliant light shone within her, a captivating gaze - The Face of the Father. 

It is I  who defines you. It is I who choose you. It is I who daily takes you by your hand and spins you around until your feet aren't even touching the ground. It is my voice, not the voice of the world, that makes you who you are. You were made to paint the sky with glory, just as I do, morning and night. You are a spectacle of love that all of Heaven loves to show off. You are a daughter, a rightful priest, a princess of my Kingdom. You belong here. Yes, especially with your brokenness and hurts and pains and struggles. I am not accusing you, I am inviting you. Just like your beautiful family invites you to stay longer at the table that you love so much, I am inviting you to stay. What do you like about the table of your home?

She answered the table in my home is full of good food. It is full of company I am safe with, accepted with, welcomed to remain with, and people who make me laugh until I cry. They are the safest beings for me. They are the ones I delight in most. They are the ones who know me, my heart, and my soul best. They never ask me to leave. There is never a time that I have to leave, there is never a time they ask me to go. They love it when I stay with them. They love just being with me. There's no forced conversation, there's no agenda, there are only intentional relational beings being with one another, loving one another, looking at each other's faces, admiring their faces, and practicing the way of Jesus together. The table is a place of vulnerability, where people are invited to share stories and practice kindness towards one another. It is a place of kindness, truth, and generosity. It is a place for learning, discipline, and guidance. It is a place of goodness, safety, and grace. It is a place where mercy is always first. It is a place for messy conversations, and for pointing out beauty. This place is a sacred place, it always has been, and it always will be. 

I am a carpenter, He replied. I built that table. When you think of me, think of that table. I will build you a comfortable, beautiful chair that is only for you. Come, sit, stay, abide, remain, dwell, listen, speak, spark life, imagine, create, think, dream, feel, cry, laugh, cry again, dance, jump, throw your hands up, smile, laugh, love, sit, listen, eat, feast, be. 

Beautiful you, I created you for this table. Though your faithfulness of rising in the morning is beautiful to me, I want your whole life. I want all of you. I want all of you. I love all of you. And I know all of you. Even the very hurting, confused, lost, broken, wondering, doubtful parts, I am indeed big enough to carry those places of your heart with you. I will walk with you, beside you, in front of you, beneath you, all around you, as you tend to the soil of your heart. I will walk with you in our garden. I will sit with you at our table. Rember my words, never will I leave you, never will I forsake you. I am with you always, to the very end of time. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your heart, oh daughter, be afraid, no. Come to me! You will find rest and restoration and redemption at this table. Come, be. 

So, although she still felt unworthy, she went. She went and he made her worthy. He called her worthy. He called her known. He called her chosen. He sparked new life into her lungs, and she danced with him. Sometimes it was just the two of them together, other times it was both of them with many other friends. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she came in her yoga clothes or running shorts, sometimes she got dressed up. Sometimes they danced, sometimes they yelled and got mad at the evil in the world. Sometimes He gently taught her a better way by disciplining her, sometimes he saw her and started crying because of how much He loved her. 

Eventually, the King and His princess learned to do life with each other, every waking moment. Not merely in the mornings at breakfast time, or in the evenings at dinner, but rather, every single moment was them doing life with each other. She was so loved, all the time, that she went and threw love around to everybody else! She knew that she was loved and He told her his thoughts of her every day. She was so rooted in their unshakable relationship, their delightful, marvelous, dynamic relationship, that she never wanted to leave. So, she never did. 

Thought 1

It was six-forty two in the morning. Per usual, I was journaling prayer and reflections in my notebook. I had already bathed, made a steaming cup of fresh pour-over Ethiopian coffee, and tidied my room for the day ahead. I had even sat with Annie Dillard’s text on Seeing, and reveled in the beauty of her passion for seeing the majesty in the routine of life. I wondered how long it would take me to begin seeing as she did. I also wondered how long it would take to even develop a hunger in the first place, which I assumed would need to develop over the course of much rehearsal, patience, and frustration. My roommate, who stayed up late, was still asleep. Thus the whole room was still and silent. All except for my plant. Yes, I have a plant; in fact, I have many plants, and they are all alive and well. This one, in particular, was inviting me into its realness. For though my eyes gaze at it daily, as it lives next to the door to my room, I had never noticed that one beautiful leaf had been formed by the hand of God in the shape of a heart. It was simply dazzling me with the glory of its brightness. Among all of the other leaves, this one was singing with a song that seemed to say, “Come, let’s play together, let’s revel in the whimsy of the light outside and the fresh dirt, and let’s feast together on the sweetness of life.” And I said, “yes,” and for a brief second, I was in a separate world with this green heart, making my way to neverland side by side with it, and sharing my deepest secrets with it. It felt like a dear friend, someone who would keep the secrets and celebrate my imperfections. At this moment I began to wonder if, perhaps, it would not take so long to recapture the beauty and whimsy in the routine of everyday life; and that in many ways, the mundane is what makes up the whimsy in life, instead of the obviously extravagant. Thus, I sit, less than ten hours away from that kind moment, and say to the dear reader of this short reflection that it is indeed possible to recapture the whimsy in the world and that it is ever worth it, though short in time it may be.