The sun was out, the table was set, and everything was ready for the guests to arrive. As long as I watched, the table remained empty. It was as if the invitations had not gone out. If they had, and I am sure they did, the guests were not responding. The irony of the situation played in my mind as the afternoon unfolded.
As I consider the image, I listen to life’s whispers, each sharing a personalised lesson for the day ahead.
An invitation is waiting. It is hard to see Divinity’s invitation from my soul’s darkness. Knowing what I know, it is unlikely that I would be offered a seat if I showed up. When I get past my first assumption, I wonder if I could hold my own in the presence of saints. The consistent surprise is the seats that are filled when I do arrive. In each, I find people who are as mirrors of myself: curious, flawed, and struggling to hold onto hope. The invitation is always with us in the light and the darkness, in good times and bad. Divinity’s table is ready, waiting, and our seat is reserved.
Wisdom is found in many places. Being open to wisdom does not mean one checks their mind and heart at the door. The first step is an awareness of the possibility of Divinity’s voice. Old advice still applies to my life: “Be responsive to your pastoral leaders. Listen to their counsel. They are alert to the condition of your lives and work under the strict supervision of God. Contribute to the joy of their leadership, not its drudgery. Why would you want to make things harder for them?” (Hebrews 13.17).
Insights have a time and place. There is so much to learn that will help me on my path to becoming a better man. The challenge is to work on what is most relevant now. I am responsible for hearing, filtering, and taking responsibility for the words and actions in my life.
My reserved seat at the table is set and ready.
