The Table.
in 2019, i wrote a written piece called the table. it was my way of processing what god had been teaching me through the previous couple of years, and it became somewhat of an altar that i would revisit to reposition my heart. these words helped me keep soft soft toward god, open to his help, remembering the gospel that not only saves me in eternity, but brings me to close to the saviour himself, today. this piece of writing became so significant to me, i decided to shorten it for a spoken word to be featured on my first album, something like a secret. I have been so honoured to hear how god has used these words to impact others also, and decided to share the full piece for those of you who may wish to read it.
I encourage you, as you venture in, to find a quiet place, breathe deeply, pause frequently, and let jesus lead you to the table. now, feast.
The Table (full).
“It challenges my heart when I’m reminded that the first place he led me to was the table. It could have been the throne, it could have been the garden. But it was the table. Why would a King invite me here? Did he need to prove something or get on my good side? Did he pity me in my malnourished state or was it just the thoughtless act of a distant host? He possessed an eager gaze, eyes fixated on me as I surveyed the feast, and I was assured of the significance of the moment - a moment not between strangers or even mere acquaintances. His hand rested on my shoulder, and He urged me to step forward. What would I claim first? The bread? The wine? Would He eat with me or would He leave? Amidst all of the questions, a weighty comfort settled and I leant into it. This Father Friend, this Royal Lover, wanted to remain. And his invitation to me was to do the same.
For this orphan mind to turn down an offer for a feast like the one displayed before me, it would be a mighty feat. If all you’ve known is to fight and to strive for the means to be full, to have it handed to you is a wild gift. Still, to be offered a position at the table that you had not earned would be an almost unfavourable circumstance to be fronted with. And though I’d been groomed with language about the kind ways of the Deity, I was forced to deconstruct my learned habits that, in some way or another, this position I’d been given had either been a reward or was about to be removed from my possession. Yet, I looked to the face of my host, who held neither expectation, hesitance nor regret in His eyes. He was pleased to have me here, again.
You see, this was not my first visit to the table. Long ago, my eyes were opened and this King joyfully revealed all that He had prepared for my arrival here. Naively, I looked for the closest essentials in reach, and with hands full, I turned and went. I did not see his teary eyes as He followed me out to call me back for more, like a Prince after his Cinderella. Still I fled, and though He grieved, He continued to pursue. And when I lay nearby, to indulge in what little I had taken, He stayed. Unaware, I ate. And it was enough, for some time, to get me through the day. But I got hungry. I watched the way the table-dwellers moved, the way they spoke. How I longed to feel what they felt and to see what they saw - I hoped one day to be asked in again. Now hope deferred makes the heart sick, and oh how my heart ached to be full, to be nourished. Riddled with ravenous hunger, I sought a way in. I was well acquainted with the kingdom... its people, its ways. But the King and his house were foreign country to me - until the table-dwellers drew close... close enough to recognise that they all looked like Him. Kindly, they allowed me to lay my weight on their shoulders, as they walked alongside this weak soul all the way to the door - which was already open, in anticipation for my arrival. Though they ceased to walk with me, I needed not find my own way, for this Humble Host was here. He ever so gently ushered my broken frame ahead, toward the room in which I now sit - to the banqueting table.
When I stood here for that second time, insecurity and anxiety fiercely scrawled questions on my heart until His presence at my side spoke rest to my soul. And after I had stayed a short time, I came to understand his invitation. Every breath my lungs had ever held was placed inside only to be released before the King, as a deep and trusting, 'Yes.' My acceptance at his bidding to dwell at the table. I don't remember how many years have passed since that day, nor have I counted the breaths I have breathed before Him, or the moments in which I have been. When I finally planted myself here with the King, the food no longer gave me cause to stay. I still enjoy tasting all that the feast has to offer, and pleasure in my time with the other table-dwellers. The one who sits at my side recounts her every moment spent with our Host, her Invested Lover, while the one across the room speaks of His passionate pursuit of the ones beyond the walls. I love to listen to their stories, and to share my own. But after all this time - whether it's been a day or a forever - this one thing I have discovered: sitting with the King was actually all the nourishment my heart ever required.
I am full and completely whole here at the table. My contentment leads me not to depart into independent pursuits, but rather to abide, always. And so, I will, always.”
