Come to the Table

Who remembers hearing that phrase shouted from a parent when it was dinner time? Do you get to shout it to your children now?

These days, I'm not so sure. We're so wrapped up in our overly-caffeinated, tightly-woven schedules that I wonder do families even sit down for dinner anymore?

Not to brag or anything, because that's not why I'm here, but my family of three still practices this as much as we possibly can.

Do we always like it? No, not all the time. There are days we can hardly stand to be in the same room as each other. The prayer over the meal will sometimes end up sounding more like arrows shot at each other. But we keep doing it.

We have seen the importance of practicing this forgotten gift, if you will. Gift? How is it a gift?

Let's ask a different question: why do we sit at a table to eat? Maybe it's an undervalued and under-practiced art.

It's not about the table itself, because I know people sit on floors, have picnics outside, and congregate around the coffee pot at work.

It's about sitting together, enjoying each other's company, sharing lives. We have a common goal to eat food and be nourished.

We generally get pleasure. It's from the food, from allowing our bodies to rest, from our bodies being refreshed, from the people we choose to be with.

It's something we're meant to be doing, because it's good for us. We foster safety among us by eating together.

Just think, eating a meal with our heavenly Father is exactly what we will do someday.

We won't struggle to want to be at the table distracted by other lesser things. We won't despise being at the same table as someone else. There won't be any burnt or bland food, there will be no pain, no arguments, no hangry people, no food that could harm us. (Oh man! I look forward to that.)

It will be glorious. More splendid than you can imagine. We will dine with the King of kings in absolute safety and harmony. He will be the reason we gather, not the food, though I'm sure it will be perfection. His light will be warm and inviting. His knowing eyes, rather than turn us away, will be filled with sparkles that say, "I'm so glad you could make it."

Maybe you still haven't made a decision to let Him be your King. It's not about religion or rules. It's about a gift of acceptance. It's an invitation to be a part of the family, His family. When you hear that invitation, "Come to My table," (psst! He's inviting you now) run to Him and accept it. I promise you won't regret it.