A Prepared Table

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about tables lately, which probably sounds like an odd thing to spend time thinking about until you realize just how much of life has happened around one.

It is funny how something so ordinary can quietly become the backdrop for some of our most meaningful moments. Birthdays are celebrated over melting candles and slices of cake, while Thanksgiving meals stretch well beyond the last plate because no one is quite ready for the conversation to end. Coffee may be shared during early mornings and late afternoons, for some, homework competes for space with unopened mail. Some nights bring laughter loud enough to fill the house; others may be a bit more quiet for the one person having dinner alone, pondering to themselves, trying to make sense of what comes next. Prayers have been whispered with folded hands, dreams have been sketched out on blank printer paper, disagreements have found their way toward reconciliation, and through it all, memories have still managed to form in moments that seemed entirely ordinary while they were happening.

The older I get, the more I have noticed that tables are rarely remembered because of what sat on top of them, or how they were decorated. Instead, we remember the people who gathered around, the conversations we shared with one another, the loud laughter, the unavoidable tension, the quiet prayers, and the moments we wish we could go back to at least once or twice a year. 

If you study through the Bible, there are several references that point to a table. One in particular is found in the book of Psalm. David, in Psalm 23 writes “You prepare a table before me” (English Standard Bible, 2016, Psalm 23:5). I want you to pay attention to the word prepared. The table is prepared. 

That word is powerful. It has stood out to me time after time. 

Prepared.

When is the last time you were prepared? Or maybe unprepared? There is intention in preparation. There is care, thought, and purpose. A prepared table suggests that someone knew you were coming before you ever arrived. A table that is prepared says that your place in particular was considered. Your need was anticipated. A prepared table says that your presence was already part of the plan.

I have gathered around tables in life that were prepared, and unprepared. Just like with most things in life, something as good as a prepared table can somehow become disordered. It seems like somewhere along the way, many of us can become so consumed with earning a seat at someone else’s table that we forget God has already been preparing one of our own. 

Despite how many times we tell ourselves that we don’t, the truth is that at some point or another we chase things like recognition, influence, leadership, access, titles, platforms, and rooms filled with people whose approval seems capable of changing our lives. We convince ourselves that one invitation, one new connection, or one perfect opportunity will finally prove that we matter. The door that we have been waiting for will open. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to mistake what I am sharing with an attempt to reduce ambition. I would argue that we could use a bit more healthy ambition in ministry. The problem is that Christians have become especially talented at dressing ambition in spiritual language, which is useful because “I am trying to build my own importance” sounds much less impressive than “I am stewarding my influence, for furthering of the Kingdom.” The difficulty is that visibility and faithfulness are not the same thing, although we often treat them as close relatives. All of a sudden, we are presented with the option of which table we will choose to sit. 

Somehow the table becomes about us in a way it was never intended. It seems to me that so often the first thing to disappear at the table we prepare for ourselves is humility. A few things might be helpful for us to remember in our humility; a larger audience does not necessarily mean a greater calling. I have sat in rooms filled with people to capacity and still felt empty. An impressive title does not automatically indicate spiritual maturity. A microphone can amplify a voice, but it has never had the power to validate the heart behind it. Some people have become remarkably skilled at building platforms while neglecting the character required to stand on them. That temptation becomes especially dangerous in ministry because it rarely shows up looking selfish. It usually enters wearing its Sunday best, holding a Bible as big as a 2-year old toddler, and using all the correct vocabulary, sometimes. 

The prepared table in ministry can truly be life changing. The table has always been a place of serving. It is the place where everyone is seated on the same level. Discipleship happens around the prepared table. Real, authentic, biblical ministry is supposed to be the heart of discipleship. The heart of discipleship will always be to love God and love others while preaching the gospel to the world.

I have found that more and more the table of ministry in the church becomes less about ministry and more about comfort. It can begin as a sincere seat with a passionate desire to serve God and people, yet slowly turn into a place where our own significance is constantly fed. For some reason, so many people see an opportunity for self promotion and they ease into it, one moment at the time. We stop turning our attention towards the lost and we start checking who noticed what we did. We become concerned with who invited us to the next event, who thanked us for the service, who promoted our event, and who failed to acknowledge everything we sacrificed for the calling. Before long, service becomes performance, calling becomes career advancement, and the people we were meant to love become supporting characters in the story we are trying to tell about ourselves. It is amazing how quickly a servant’s heart can become a résumé when we are not paying attention. 

I don’t write this from a place of resentment. I share this from a place of sincerity because I understand the temptation. I have walked it. The truth is that everyone wants to feel useful. Everyone wants to know that their work and their calling matters. There is nothing shameful about desiring influence when that influence is surrendered to God. The danger begins when influence starts serving our identity more than we are serving through ministry. It’s a problem when it becomes more about a like or a follow on social media than it does about taking time to be what the community needs. At that point, we are no longer asking, “How can I faithfully care for the people God has entrusted to me?” We are asking, “What can this position do for me?” Even if we don’t realize it. 

That is a very different table.

Jesus never seemed concerned with securing the best seat in the room. In fact, He spent much of His earthly ministry disrupting the seating chart. He welcomed people others ignored. He confronted those who confused status with holiness. He washed feet while His disciples remained preoccupied with who among them was the greatest. His leadership example has to be at the forefront of everything we do. This is your moment to go find your WWJD bracelet, because it really is that simple. If he wouldn’t, then you shouldn’t. If he would, then don’t just sit there like you could. He flips the script on service leadership in a way that feels completely counter cultural in this “race to the top” society we live in. The Kingdom has always had a strange way of embarrassing our obsession with hierarchy.

The table is not just a place familiar to the disciples and family dinner. It can be tempting to pass by the table that seems to be far more influential than yours and suddenly have the desire to pull up a chair. We seem to be more concerned about the tables that are serving success and influence, but Jesus seems more interested in whether we are willing to clear the plates afterward. It’s interesting how the table can be the place of sorting the servers from the served. If you want to know who has a heart for serving, just pay attention to who is around after the entertainment has ended and the meal is gone. That is real influence. 

I could go in several different directions with this, the table preaches good, but the reason that I wrote this blog is to share with you how important it is to not allow the table to change you into someone God never called you to be. 

I recently read a quote that stood out to me. I felt it resonate deeply because I have lived it. 

The table God prepares for you will never require you to betray who He called you to be.

A God-prepared place will never demand that you exchange conviction for acceptance. It will never compromise integrity for the benefit of access, and it never asks you to trade your character for  an opportunity. When you are sitting at the table that God has prepared, you will never need to become dishonest or resort to hiding who you are from those you are sitting among. You will not have to be manipulative, silent, cruel, or unrecognizable in order to remain seated where He has placed you. If those things begin to happen, you’ve moved tables. 

I have sat around tables that felt less like an invitation to belong and more like a request to abandon myself at the door. Opportunities have presented themselves like a perfectly written business plan. I have sat at tables with leaders where the expectation was subtle but unmistakable: overlook what was wrong, participate in decisions that defied both wisdom and common sense, and smile politely while everyone pretended it was all perfectly reasonable. My integrity has felt nauseated in rooms like that. Thankfully, I was raised with enough self-respect, home-taught common sense, and God-given conviction to recognize when a seat was asking far too high a price. I was also raised with enough grit to know when to push the chair back and walk away because I realized that I was sitting at the wrong one. 

Your integrity is the truest part of who you are. Integrity is that part of yourself that knows the truth even when nobody else does. It speaks when remaining silent would make us complicit. It walks away when staying would communicate approval. It tells the truth with compassion, yet refuses to make truth so gentle that it loses its meaning. There is never a time when it is acceptable to compromise your character for a seat at someone else’s table. 

I tend to have a thing for saying what needs to be said. It’s usually not popular, and it does get me a good bit of hate mail, but I’ve decided that as long as I have the ability to speak the truth, I will! No matter what it costs, or who it concerns. Everyone says they love honesty until honesty pulls up a chair at their table and begins calling out deception. 

I am writing this because I am hopeful that it will help someone find the courage to change tables, or flip one or two if needed. When you take a stand for truth and who God called YOU to be, it will cost you. It may cost invitations, yes, they will stop calling and inviting you. It will cost you the approval of others. It will even cost you relationships that you may have thought would last a lifetime. No matter the cost, it will be worth it every single time. Sometimes the table we need to leave is the very one everyone else is trying to reach. You may have to step past some who are stepping in, that’s okay too! You need to remember that a desirable seat can become a dangerous place when remaining there requires the slow erosion of your values. 

Being true to yourself, however, needs a little theological clarification. Culture often treats authenticity as permission to remain unchanged, as though every instinct deserves expression and every desire deserves celebration. Christian authenticity runs deeper. It means remaining true to the person Christ is forming you to become and called you to be. It means allowing the fruits of the Holy Spirit to grow in your life. It means practicing what you preach, like not just saying to forgive others, but actually doing it. It means relying on the Holy Spirit to lead and guide you in everything that you do, even if everyone you are surrounded by has created their own path that seems desirable. 

I want to encourage someone reading this that there is a profound freedom in realizing that we do not have to manipulate our way into the place God intends for us. We do not have to surround ourselves with people that we think are the key to our next level of success, that’s manipulation. We do not have to flatter the right people, participate in foolishness, overlook injustice, or perform a personality that makes everyone else comfortable. We also don’t have to walk in silence. We have permission to share every bit of our story. That is what compels me to share this with you. I want you to know that things can be different. God has never needed us to become counterfeit versions of ourselves in order to fulfill an authentic calling. Your standard is in scripture, not in the ambitions of your friends. 

Your table belongs to you. Lean into that. Remember that He prepares the table, and He also prepares the person who will sit there. 

Perhaps that is why some things in our life that we are believing for take longer than we expect. We are asking for the seat while God is shaping the character required to carry it well. I’ve had so many times where I have looked back and realized that I was not read then for what I carry now. He always knows what we need more than what we want. We want the invitation, while He is teaching us how to remain humble once it arrives. We want influence, while He is examining whether our identity can survive applause. We want financial security and he is crafting our discipline to manage it. 

Just so that you don’t forget. I figured I would remind you once again, God seems far less impressed with our timelines than we are. 

It is my hope that something inside of you is awakened to who you are called to be. It is my prayer that you will find yourself seated at the table He prepared for you. I hope you will remember that every human table is temporary. The meeting will eventually adjourn, the title will pass to someone else, the platform will grow quiet, and the people whose approval once felt essential will eventually turn their attention elsewhere. Some quicker than others. The coffee will cool, the chairs will be pushed back, and the room will empty. 

The table prepared by the Shepherd has a different kind of permanence.

At that table, we will not need to explain why we refused to participate in what violated our conscience. We will not regret the opportunities we lost by choosing integrity. We will not wish we had become more polished, more political, or more willing to call foolishness wisdom just to preserve a seat. We will be seated with everything we need.

So, I pray that you serve deeply my friend. Begin to love people well, speak unfiltered truth with humility, and walk away confidently when the price of belonging becomes the betrayal of your calling. Let other people scramble for chairs if they must. Let them rearrange the seating chart, guard their influence, and congratulate one another on decisions that common sense abandoned. 

You do not have to join them.

The one God prepares for you will never require you to leave your convictions at the door, or your self-respect in the hallway. He knew exactly who He was calling when He set your place. He knew you were coming. He sent you a personal invitation and you have been given permission to take your place, at the table