A place at the Table

There’s just something about sitting at a table.  

It’s where the work gets done, where battles are fought and won,  where prayers are prayed, and stories are shared.  It’s where some of the most important conversations take place. 

Around a table we share ideas, make decisions, tell stories, laugh together, and sometimes wrestle with the things that are difficult to say. It is a space where people should be seen as equal, and everyone should have a voice. Nobody should be made to feel that they are on the outside looking in, because there should always be room for one more to pull up a chair.  And that’s something we need to always be ready for.  For the increase, for the expanding of our tables to bring others in, to make them feel included and like they have a place to belong. 

Gathering round a table speaks of friendship, of gathering, a place where we can come as we are without needing to have it all together.  A place where we can be real.  A place where each person is listened to and heard.  A place for those deeply personal and intimate conversations to be shared. There is something deeply important about being invited to the table, because an invitation says, " You are welcome, you have a place here, and we want you to be part of this.

And I think that is a picture worth holding on to when we think about the way Jesus welcomed people.

Throughout the Gospels, we see Jesus sitting at tables with all sorts of people. Some were His friends and followers, while others were people who were overlooked, judged, or pushed to the edges of society. Jesus seemed remarkably willing to sit with people that others would rather keep at a distance. He ate with them, listened to them, talked with them and, in doing so, showed something of what the Kingdom of God looks like.

Jesus had a way of making room for people. 

Perhaps there is something for us to learn in that.  He had a habit of crossing boundaries that other people had carefully put in place, and sometimes it was around a table that

those boundaries became most obvious.

And maybe that is part of what it means to follow Him - learning to make our tables a little bigger, to move over and make space, and to notice those who might otherwise remain standing at the edge.

Because there should always be room for one more at the table.

Think about Zacchaeus.

He was a tax collector, a man who was not particularly popular with the people around him and who had, for whatever reason, found himself on the outside. Yet when Jesus passed through Jericho, Zacchaeus wanted to see Him so badly that he climbed a tree because he was too short to see over the crowd.

Zacchaeus was a prime example of being on the outside looking in.

That was until Jesus saw him.

Jesus stopped, called him by name, and told him that He was going to Zacchaeus’ house. Jesus didn’t wait for Zacchaeus to sort himself out first, or for the crowd to decide whether he deserved to be included. He simply moved towards him.

And the crowd didn't like it.

They grumbled because Jesus had gone to the house of a sinner. They had already decided who Zacchaeus was and, perhaps more importantly, who he wasn't. He wasn't one of them. He wasn't someone they thought deserved a place at their table.

But Jesus saw something different.

There is something incredibly powerful about that story when you think about it through the picture of a table. Jesus didn't simply speak to Zacchaeus from a distance. He went to his home. He sat down with him. He shared his space and his hospitality.

And something changed.

Zacchaeus' encounter with Jesus led to a change in the way he lived and in the way he treated other people. His response was not simply about feeling better about himself; it was about putting things right and becoming generous with what he had.

Perhaps that is what happens when we really experience being welcomed by Jesus. We discover that grace doesn't simply give us somewhere to sit; it changes the way we see the people sitting around us.

Then there is Matthew.

Jesus found Matthew sitting at the tax booth and simply said, “Follow me.” Matthew got up and followed Him, and not long afterwards there was a meal at Matthew's house. Jesus was there, along with many tax collectors and others who were considered outsiders.

Again, the religious people were uncomfortable.

They couldn't understand why Jesus would eat with people like that. Why would He

choose to sit at their table? Why would He give His time and attention to people who, in their eyes, didn't belong?

But perhaps that was exactly the point.

Jesus was showing them that the Kingdom of God was not an exclusive table where only the right sort of people were invited. His invitation was wider than that. His grace was bigger than that.

And I wonder if that challenges us too.

Because it is very easy to talk about having a place at the table when we are the ones sitting comfortably around it. It is much harder when someone comes along who is different from us, who makes us uncomfortable, who doesn't fit neatly into our expectations, or perhaps someone we have already decided isn't really our kind of person.

Who do we leave standing at the edge?

Who do we make assumptions about?

Who would we rather not have sitting beside us?

Who might be waiting for someone to notice them and simply say, “Come and sit with us”?

Perhaps the challenge isn't only to ask whether there is a place for someone else at our table. Perhaps it is also to remember how we came to be at the table ourselves.

None of us earned our way there.

We were invited.

We were welcomed.

We were given a place by grace.

And if Jesus has made room for us, then perhaps we are called to become people who make room for others.

That might look different for each of us. It might be inviting someone for coffee, sitting beside the person who is always alone, listening to someone whose story is very different from ours, or simply noticing the person who seems to be standing on the outside looking in. It might mean moving beyond the people we naturally gravitate towards and being willing to make space for someone we wouldn't normally choose.

It doesn't have to be complicated.

Sometimes making room begins with simply noticing and then taking that step to reach out.

I wonder what would happen if we looked at our own tables a little differently.

Not just our literal tables, but the tables of our friendships, our churches, our families, our workplaces, and our communities.

Who is sitting there?

Who isn't?

And is there room for one more?

I think that is one of the beautiful things about Jesus. He didn't simply talk about welcome; He demonstrated it. He noticed people. He crossed boundaries. He sat with people others avoided. He made people feel seen, valued, and welcome, and He invited them into something bigger than themselves.

Perhaps that is something we can learn from Him.

Perhaps following Jesus means becoming people who are willing to move over a little and make space. People who don't guard the table as though it belongs to us, but remember that we are there because someone first invited us.

Because there is something about being invited to a table that stays with you.

It tells you that you matter.

It tells you that you belong.

It tells you that someone wants you there.

And perhaps, in a world where so many people feel like they are standing on the outside looking in, one of the simplest things we can do is pull up another chair.

Make some room.

Invite someone in.

Because there should always be room for one more at the table.