Every school day, I give my elementary aged sons, Clay and Alex, the same hurried series of instructions: “eat your breakfast; put your clothes on; brush your teeth; get your shoes on; grab your backpacks.”  On the mornings when it rains, I rush them along even more than usual because the carpool line can grow long as more people drive than when the weather is nice.  On one of those recent rainy days, I added, “put your coat on” as we got into the van. Ten-year old Clay said, “It’s not raining yet.”  “Yes, it is,” I countered.  “We’re inside the garage right now.  Watch,” I said.  I slowly backed out of the garage and the rain pelted the van.  Clay gave me a look that said “fine” and slid his coat on before buckling his seat belt.  He didn’t know it was raining because he hadn’t looked out the windows of the house that morning.  He didn’t know it was raining because our garage is attached to our home.  His mind was on the inside of the house instead of outside.

I started wondering about how our focus shifts between the inside of our homes and the outside of our immediate domains.  Sometimes, our own houses, or lives, are in trouble.  There are leaks and the rain is pouring in the roof.  The wind is blowing the water in under the doors, so the floors are flooded.  We feel like we are wading around with buckets and mops, frantic and worried.  These are the times we need to concentrate on our own houses.  We must take care of our lives and families when we are in need and should seek and accept help from others to deal with the circumstances life throws our way.

When things settle down in our own homes, and everything returns to normal, we tend to hunker down in the calm after the storm.  We are so relieved to stop struggling that we simply stay inside to remain safe and avoid any other calamity.  We may even assume that because we are okay for now, everyone else is okay too.

But if we focus only on our own lives, we fail to see that the rain may still be falling on others’ lives.  When we don’t look beyond our own realities, we miss the suffering of others, from people in our immediate communities enduring emotional, financial, and health challenges to those who are hurting in the community at large, be it our city, state, country, or world.  While we cannot solve every person’s problems, we can become more aware of others’ issues and understand the reasons for their pain.

The other day, I heard a radio interview with some people who were on the edge of poverty.  They had jobs, but they also had college debt, medical bills, children, some of whom had special needs, and on and on.  One of them said, “I’m not stupid.  I’m not lazy.”  She just wanted others to understand that her plight was complicated and not easily solved. She wanted to be seen in her God-given humanity, not as someone who was less than because she didn’t have much money. The woman was busy trying to keep a roof over her head – literally.  She had to keep her eyes on the problems right in front of her to survive.

But if our lives are running relatively smoothly, we can make efforts to learn about the vulnerabilities of others.  Awareness is a first step toward understanding and then helping in some way. Let’s take care of our own lives certainly, but let’s also reach out to those stuck out in a downpour.  Maybe all we can offer is an umbrella, but perhaps that caring gesture is a start and just what the other person needs.

The beginning of each year usually has a pattern for me.  After Christmas and New Year’s Day are over, I put the Christmas decorations up in storage over the course of several days.  By myself.  We try to make holiday decorating a family affair, especially putting ornaments on the Christmas tree.  But taking the decorations off the tree, wrapping the delicate ones, and placing them in boxes is a solitary endeavor.  Then, my daughter Riley and son Jed have birthdays in January less than two weeks apart.  So, I end up doing a deep clean of the house because both of them will have friends over for parties or sleepovers.  The whirlwind from the holidays through the birthday preparations is pretty chaotic and exhausting.

Recently, I was in the middle of the pre-birthday party deep clean. Honestly, I was a little irritated because I didn’t feel overly appreciated.  No one had even mentioned the disappearance of the Christmas decorations earlier that month.  Now, I was on my hands and knees with the vacuum cleaner hose going around the edges of the carpets and baseboards.  My husband Ben was fulfilling another role by carting the kids back and forth to numerous activities.  But I still wondered if anyone would notice my intense efforts to clean the house.

While I was down on the floor, vacuuming and scrubbing, I started wondering about our view of God.  We often imagine God on a throne like ones we’ve seen on tv or in movies, a distant king looking down on us from on high.  But what if, instead of a deity who may or may not grant an audience with us when we need help, God is actually down on his hands and knees in the floor with us helping us clean up the messes of our lives?  Perhaps he notices our efforts to deal with the consequences of our actions or those of others.  He sees us reeling when we experience unexpected, life altering circumstances. And he is with us down in the muck.

Jesus confused people because he did not try to wrest power from the religious leaders or government officials.  Instead, he hung out with regular people, some considered undesirable, and even washed his disciples’ feet.  Where did that servant leadership behavior originate?  Not from a God who was unconcerned or unengaged but from a God who is willing to help us do the dirty work.

How would our approach to God be different if we thought of God as intimately involved like this in our lives?  The other day, I made a mistake, acted in a manner that was unbecoming, and did it without thinking beforehand.  I felt guilty and sorry and hoped that not too many people had witnessed my behavior.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t change what I’d done, but the rapidity with which I’d acted, without forethought, bothered me greatly.  I needed to work on myself, so I wouldn’t repeat my automatic actions. I imagined God sitting with me in the floor looking at a spot of sticky, gooey gunk that won’t easily come off without some serious scouring.  “This is going to take some work,” God might say.  Yes, changing my heart and mind so that I won’t react so poorly, so quickly in the future will take a good, long scrub and may need to be repeated a few times to really get rid of it.  God is not like Cinderella’s fairy godmother who waves a magic wand to fix everything instantly.  But he will help me as I figure out how to change, deal with consequences, and do better in the future.  God won’t leave me to do it alone.

After I finished the vigorous birthday party cleaning, I was tired, dirty, and sweaty, but I felt content that the house was clean.  I knew it would only last for a little while and that it would be messed up again quickly.  Just like life.  But I’m thankful that God is always ready to help and guide me as I clean up again and again as often as the dust accumulates, the dirt piles up, and the filth gathers in life.  I envision him giving me a wink and a hug and nodding as we roll up our sleeves together.

We were on our way to Dairy Queen to get a treat when I asked ten-year-old Clay what he wanted.  “That chocolate thing,” he said.  At the drive thru, I ordered a chocolate dipped cone for him.  “That’s not what I want,” he hissed from the passenger seat. “I want a cookie dough blizzard.” While the cookie dough blizzard has chocolate chips, I didn’t think it qualified as “that chocolate thing.”  I changed the order, and as we waited, I asked, “Why did you describe what you wanted like that?”  Sounding a bit exasperated, Clay replied, “I didn’t know how to express it.”

I smiled at Clay’s way of expressing himself in that moment.  Then, I started wondering about the kernel of truth in Clay’s statement.  Lacking the ability to express ourselves is confusing and frustrating to the one trying to express himself and the one trying to understand.  Unfortunately, it is not limited to childhood.  In theory, we should know better how to express ourselves as we get older, but this is not always the case.

Life gets complicated, and we don’t always know exactly how we feel.  That is, if we are willing to feel the emotions in the first place. Many of us spend a lot of time avoiding our emotions at all costs.  We don’t want to experience anger, frustration, sadness, or unhappiness, so we pretend that everything is fine even when it’s not.  If we are brave enough to feel our emotions, especially the negative ones, we still may not be able to find the words to describe those emotions or label the roots of discontent.

This inability can lead to aggravation on our part and for those around us.  My teenage daughter Riley has called me out in the past when I’ve snapped at her for a minor infraction that didn’t rise to the level of my reaction.  She’ll say, “You’re mad about something else.”  Then, I have to confess that she’s right along with an apology.  Something else has upset me, but instead of expressing that accurately, I take my anger out on someone else.  If only we could be honest with ourselves and others when we don’t know how to express ourselves.   We might save ourselves a lot of heartache and miscommunication. Saying, “I’m having a hard time, but I don’t know why,” could go a long way to easing tension inside of our own heads and in our relationships.

Thankfully, God does not need us to communicate with crystal clarity with him. One of my favorite passages in the Bible says, “God’s Spirit is right alongside us helping us along.  If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter.  He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.  He knows us far better than we know ourselves . . .” Romans 8:26-28 (MSG).  God does not require us to know exactly what emotions we are feeling, where they came from, or what they mean before we ask him for help.  When we feel overwhelmed by emotions, we can simply sigh or groan, vent or cry, and he understands. We may not understand our own emotions, but he does.  God is present with us in the swirl of emotions, shame, and guilt, even when we feel we are in an endless downward spiral.

And maybe, if we seek God’s help when we feel unable to express our emotions, he will give us guidance on how to adequately express ourselves to others who can help us in our daily lives.  God gives us family, friends, and community to surround us and hold us up when we feel we are drowning in emotions that threaten to drag us under.  The willingness to ask for help, even if we don’t know what we need, is brave and a sign of strength.

Clay’s willingness to confess that he didn’t know how to express himself was a mature analysis for a kid, even if he was talking about ice cream.  Words may escape us at times, but it’s okay to be open and honest and admit our failure to find the right words.  God will help us when we are lost and help us find the people who will stand with us as we find our way.

I’ve been working at the same job for fifteen years.  When I reach a major milestone, I tend to assess (or more accurately, obsess about) the good and bad.  So, on this fifteenth anniversary, I’m thinking about where I’ve been and how I got here.

When I first started, I was so excited to have this position. It was what I’d wanted for so long.  I’d been dreaming and planning to take on this role, but I also had no idea what I was doing.  The learning curve was steep and rapid.  No one told me it would be that hard, but I probably wouldn’t have believed them anyway. As it turned out, I couldn’t prepare in advance.  On the job training was the only way to learn.  Sometimes it was difficult and painful; at other times it was simple and easy.

Time passed and my comfort level increased in many respects, but then I was put in charge of more people.  For better or worse, my team members have strong personalities.  They continually ask questions, express their opinions, challenge my authority, and often make demands.  This crew also argues amongst themselves incessantly.  Unfortunately, there is no one way to deal with all of them because each one responds differently to my efforts.  Depending on the circumstances, I must be stern and unrelenting or charming and persuasive.  It’s always better with this group if they think they came up with the ideas themselves. Of course, those same people can turn around and be kind and appreciative.  The thank you’s and the interpersonal relationships serve as a salve when the difficulties pile up.

On some days, the tasks are mind numbingly routine, and I feel like I can’t repeat an assignment one more time.  Oddly, at the same time, the job is dynamic and keeps changing.  I’ll be convinced that we have a method down pat or that the way we did things before will work again, but the world shifts and we start over.  I must evolve in my approach or fall behind.  However, when we encounter new issues and solve them with creativity and imagination, we feel invigorated and proud.  The logistics of scheduling can be nightmarish, and I’m the one in charge of all the organization and transportation.  I’m on the road now more than ever, although the trips are short. Every now and again, I feel as though I’ve accomplished a great deal.  Then, moments later, I feel like a complete failure.

But I am devoted to this job.  In fact, some would take issue with me calling it a “job” when the bottom line is, I love it.  I have passion for what I do.  The fulfillment and satisfaction far outweigh the adversities.  I won’t get a plaque to commemorate the time I’ve served. Instead, I’ll get a cake for the person who gave me the title in the first place: my daughter.  The icing will read, “Happy 15^thBirthday!” Our family, including the three boys born after her, will sing in celebration, and I’ll thank God once again for giving me the hardest and most beautiful role, that of mother.

P.S.  Riley turns 16 this January.  One more year on the job with my team of Riley, Jed, Clay and Alex.  Love my kids!

On a recent holiday morning, we sat in the living room of my parents’ house with a parade playing on television in the background.  When a musical group came on during the parade, ten-year old Clay announced, “I love them.”  One of his siblings, who shall remain nameless, groaned and declared disdain for the band in question.  This wasn’t the first time said sibling had criticized Clay’s musical choices.  Of course, Clay’s favorites fall right in line with today’s pop culture and include some of the most popular artists out there.  But Clay’s sibling deems these same bands uncool or at least not cool enough for an “older aged” crowd.  Clay refused to stand for it that day.  He looked at his sibling and shot back, “you’re just here to criticize.”

Even after their argument ended, Clay’s statement stayed with me.  I started wondering why we fall into this snare so frequently. We see situations in which we disagree with how things are being done, and what do we do?  We talk about how terribly things are being managed, usually behind others’ backs.  We may not have any real interest in improving the situation or care if things get better, but it becomes a sport to pick apart the choices that others make. We stand back and wait to see if those implementing the current policies fail.  And, sometimes, we act petty or even nasty.  It’s easy to criticize when we’re not the ones making the decisions, whether at work or church or school.  We’ve all been guilty of such behavior.  I know I’ve done it, and I’m not proud of it.

Not to say that criticism does not have its place.  There are times when decision makers get off course, and their actions should be questioned.  And venting can provide some positive benefits – getting our concerns off our chests so that we can get back to dealing with the matters at hand.  But frequently, our criticism just provides us with a chance to tear down another without providing any constructive ideas.  Instead of offering to help, we focus on the negative. We say what we would do if we were in charge, but we don’t volunteer to serve.  We talk a good game with a little snark and sarcasm thrown in to make ourselves seem witty and above it all.

But that’s not how Jesus acted.  He criticized many of the establishments, people, and situations of his day.  But he didn’t stop there.  Jesus offered a different example of how to be.  He was a servant leader.  He ate meals with outcasts and touched those who were considered unhealthy.  He taught that forgiveness was better than holding grudges.  He even washed his disciples’ feet.

Jesus could’ve easily sat in judgment, making pronouncements from afar about how the rulers of the day had it all wrong, sitting on a proverbial high horse, not getting his hands or feet dirty.  But that’s not who he was or how he made his way in the world.  I don’t think he would want us to be that way either. He wants us to follow his example and get to work when we see a situation that needs our help.

So, the next time we find ourselves huddled with others complaining about how things need to change in our given community, large or small, let’s remember how Jesus offered criticism but then showed others how to be different.  Let’s ask if we if we can help change things in some way.  And one day if you find me falling into this negativity trap, you can remind me of my own essay and ask me Clay’s words: “are you just here to criticize” or here to help?

Recently, I went to the eye doctor for the first time in a couple of years.  I decided to go to a different doctor than I had before merely because of convenience.  I don’t really enjoy going to the eye doctor.  I always feel a little stupid because without my glasses I can’t read the letters far away.  Unfortunately, even with my glasses, I can’t read all of the letters that, in theory, I should be able to see from far away with corrective lenses.  The new doctor became a little frustrated because he couldn’t figure out how to get my right eye to 20/20.  The best he could do was 20/40.  He asked me if previous doctors had ever mentioned this issue.  I told him that other doctors agreed with him.  No one could perfectly correct my eyesight.

This year of 2020 is one that lends itself to the theme of 20/20 vision.  I’ve always been one to embrace the idea of developing vision for the future.  When a new year or a birthday approaches, I’ll analyze the last year’s ups and downs to determine what worked and what didn’t all with the intention of moving forward. I like to rip pictures and words out of magazines and then make a collage that is my own vision board.  My plans cover career, family, volunteer work, friendships.  Every aspect of life is susceptible to goal setting.  I believe in honing my focus and setting priorities to make dreams become realities.

But after this visit to the doctor, I started wondering about the 20/20 vision metaphor because, in some respects, 20/20 invokes the idea of perfection.  We want to see the future clearly without blurriness or shadows.  We want to achieve our goals without distractions or detours.  But that’s not the way life works.  We must understand that neither our plans nor reality will be without difficulty.  Having vision and clarity of purpose is great as long as we recognize that perfection is unattainable.

Growing up, I thought God wanted perfection from me.  Don’t make mistakes, don’t sin, don’t screw up in any way.  Perfection became the goal.  A goal that meant I ended every day in failure.  A goal that became stunting emotionally and spiritually because it was overwhelming and completely impossible.  But as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned how to more fully follow God’s advice to fear not.  If perfection is the goal, fear of failure is never far from mind.  Pursuit of perfection and fear go hand in hand, so perfection can’t be God’s expectation of us.  He understands that we will make mistakes, and he graciously shows us his mercy, forgiveness, and love.

As we embark on this new decade of the 2020’s, may we have vision, focus, and purpose, but let’s leave perfection seeking behind.  Just like my eyesight, my efforts to achieve my goals will never be perfect.  But maybe, if we remember that God does not expect perfection in any way, we can pursue our vision with new eyes.

My almost fourteen-year old son Jed is obsessed with athletic shoes.  He spends a lot of time on the internet researching them.  He knows exactly when new shoes will be released, how much they cost, and whether they have a propensity to increase in value over time based on the number produced and the unique nature of the shoe.  Jed knows the details of each athlete’s latest shoe and is keenly aware of any celebrity collaborations to produce special shoes. From him, I’ve learned there is a whole community of shoe collectors who also love their shoes.  Most of the athletes who collaborate with shoe companies are NBA basketball players.  Many of them take their influence with their fans seriously and therefore try to impact the self-confidence of young people while also increasing their awareness of social justice.

LeBron James is known for this kind of positivity. In fact, one of Lebron’s latest shoes has the Theodore Roosevelt “Daring Greatly” speech printed on the insole.  Recently, Jed purchased a pair of Lebron’s shoes that had the phrase, “I am more than” written on the back of the left shoe with white space on the left and right shoes for the athlete to fill in the blanks with the marker that came with the shoes.  On his own, Jed finished the sentence: “I am more than my flaws.”

When I saw his shoes complete with his new mantra, I stopped in my tracks.  Of course, my son was more than his flaws.  I knew that, but his announcement to that effect felt important.  He was making a statement to the world that he would not be defined by his failings, real or perceived.  Jed’s comment was insightful and full of depth.

I started wondering if I believed that I was more than my flaws.  I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my negative traits.  But all of that analysis rarely results in forward movement. Instead, I usually end up feeling bad about myself without much positive to show for it.  I’m not saying that examining life is bad in and of itself but ruminating incessantly without acting is not helpful.

At this time of year, many of us make New Year’s resolutions.  Most of those resolutions are based on the things in our lives that we don’t like and want to fix.  But many of the resolutions will fall flat, and we won’t feel any better about ourselves after the fact.  I have a letter that I wrote to myself a few years ago in the middle of the night at the end of December.  Essentially, I berated myself for all of the ways I was not living up to my expectations, but I didn’t change in the new year.  I could’ve written the same letter the next year.  I beat myself up, but I wasn’t ready to deal with actually fixing my most obvious shortcomings.  I hadn’t reached the point in my journey at which I could make the changes.  At the time, I was consumed with my flaws and thought that my flaws made me who I was.

God does not focus on our flaws though, and he certainly does not equate our worthiness with our failings.  He sees us as whole beings who are messy and imperfect but who also have strong, positive qualities.  The entire time that I was obsessed with my weaknesses, God was not. He was with me in the waiting and will always be there when I can’t find my path out of whatever darkness I face.

Maybe until we are emotionally, physically, or intellectually ready to tackle our flaws, we can try to see ourselves as God does. What if we could pick a strength or something we do well and make that the centerpiece of our resolutions?  We can resolve to do more of what we do well, devote more time to our families or communities in ways that make us feel good about ourselves.  In situations in which I’ve been a bit helpful doing something I enjoy, I’ve felt better about myself and thought a little less about my shortcomings.

Jed said it well: “I am more than my flaws.” All of us are more than our flaws. In the new year, let’s resolve to believe it in our minds, hearts, and actions.

“Slow down,” I’ll say. “Take turns.” Ben will chime in, “There are no more.  Once you’re done, it’s over.” We issue these admonitions every Christmas morning while our kids open presents. The anticipation of the holiday season looms large and builds until the four of them can hardly sleep on Christmas Eve. As their parents, we try to extend the big Christmas morning finale as long as possible, but it goes by fast. After a month of expectation, it’s over in less than half an hour. And sometimes, there’s a letdown that comes from completion of the gift opening. Not just for the kids either. As adults, we realize that holidays, birthdays, and other big life events can end in an anticlimactic nature, and that’s when our expectations are realistic. Throw in some unrealistic hopes and dreams, and the disappointment can be downright depressing.

The disenchantment of “the day after” in almost any situation can be difficult. I wonder what happened the day after Jesus was born. Having a baby is one of the greatest events that ever happens to anyone. The love is overwhelming. But the reality is not wholly serene. I imagine the exhaustion of his mother Mary after giving birth and hosting midnight visitors who came to see her newborn. The angels had invited the shepherds to intrude. Mary might not have extended the same welcome if the schedule had been up to her. Mary didn’t have a midwife or her mother to help her manage her physical discomfort, the emotional highs and lows, and the care of a new baby. We may like to think of Jesus as the “perfect” baby, but I suspect he still fussed, cried, got hungry, stayed up all night, and spit up like any other baby. Joseph probably struggled with how to help with an infant and worried about what he and his little family would do next.

After being terrified by the angels, the shepherds surely were excited that they’d actually found the baby as described and were not, in fact, collectively crazy. We’re told they returned to their fields glorifying and praising God. The wise men brought treasure from afar and then left town to avoid King Herod. Mary and Joseph were amazed at what the people at the stable and later at the temple said about Jesus, about how they located Mary and Joseph and who Jesus would turn out to be. Even knowing their son was special and the unusual circumstances of his birth, tales of angels and stars and prophecies were still hard to completely comprehend.

Mary and Joseph must have experienced the heights of love, the depths of bewilderment, and the lows of the day-to-day realities of newborn life. But their lives were changed forever. They had a baby and bore the responsibility to raise God’s son. The shepherds and the wise men experienced change because they’d encountered the wonder of God born into the world. When everyone that we see in the traditional Nativity scene left the stable, they were different than when they arrived.

Can we say the same? We rush to and through Christmas only to feel down when the presents are opened. Or the time with the family doesn’t go as planned, or we don’t feel appreciated or loved. But instead maybe we can stop and take the opportunity to truly experience God’s presence during this season. To seek God’s comfort for our weary souls. When we visit the miracle of the manger, we can ask Jesus to change us. What does God want us to learn from him during this season? Let us reclaim the days after Christmas so that we enter the new year refreshed in our faith, renewed in our spirits, and most importantly, reminded of God’s great love for us.

Ben and I have an ongoing debate about the usefulness of traffic navigation apps.  He swears by them, and I do not like them in most circumstances.  His favorite is Waze, and he will plug his destination into that app almost every time he gets in the car, even daily when he goes to or from home and work.  He drives from our home in Frisco to downtown Dallas, which is about a forty-minute trip with no traffic.  Every morning and evening, however, the lanes become virtual parking lots.  Ben will travel a different route every day if the app says there is an accident or construction and that a faster, easier way exists.  He doesn’t mind driving through neighborhoods or side streets.  He says he has not followed the app’s directions in the past and has regretted ignoring its suggestions, so now he does not doubt Waze’s wisdom.

I, on the other hand, only use navigation devices if I actually do not know where I am going.  If I know how to get to my destination, I do not bother with an app.  Now, I usually do not leave Frisco for days, but when I go to downtown Dallas or somewhere else farther away, I still don’t use an app if I know where I am headed.  I like to go straight to my intended location.  Even if I have to sit in some traffic, I prefer to go the way I know without variation.  I hate going through neighborhoods and side streets.  I think Waze has figured out that I don’t like it because now whenever I try to use it, it says “oops, something went wrong – try again.”

On a recent road trip, I was driving when Ben’s app said I should get off the interstate to save a half hour.  I didn’t argue with him because I could see up ahead that traffic was stopped. That didn’t mean I liked getting off the interstate though.  I didn’t enjoy driving down a two-lane highway or going 35 miles per hour through a small town.  Nor did I care for the fact that there were about seven other cars driving this same route in caravan style because they were apparently following along with the same app.

I started wondering why I am so opposed to using these apps.  They are supposed to save time, and I admire efficiency in most respects.  But these apps just bother me.  Then, it occurred to me that perhaps the bottom line is I don’t want to get lost and I don’t trust the apps to prevent that from happening.   Ben is perfectly content to take a detour.  He believes he will get to his destination eventually, faster even than if he stayed the known course, and he trusts the app to get him there.  He is not worried about getting so off track that he can’t find his way back.

My take on the navigation apps is similar to my approach to life.  I would prefer a straight shot to get to where I’m going, reach my goals, check all the boxes.  I think I know the best way to reach the end point, and I don’t want to take a route that differs from my plan.  I don’t want to admit that the other road may end up being better than my original one.

And, if I’m being honest, I have a tough time trusting God to help with the navigation.  I remain stubborn and focused on what I want to accomplish in the exact way I want to do it instead of realizing God may have another plan or a very different way of meeting the goals I have.  I don’t fully believe that there might be amazing discoveries along the side roads or that this alternate journey could be better than the one I had mapped out. God’s path may be more circuitous than I like, but I could save myself a lot of angst and anxiety if I better believed that God will get me to the place I need to be eventually, on his schedule.

God only has my best interest at heart.  He is not going to lead me down a road that is not good for me or will leave me irretrievably lost.  He is not a cold computer app telling me what to do and where to turn.  I still may not love the navigation apps, but I understand that I need to work on having greater trust for God who loves me and will not lead me astray.

Our kitchen table is a mess.  Even when it is wiped clean and clear of clutter, it is still stained.  Splotches of red, pink, and green paint won’t scrub off.  Black permanent marker bled through paper.  Pencil scratches and indentations mar the surface.  A water glass ring remains.

This table serves as the place where the kids do homework, make crafts and build school projects.  We eat most meals in this space, whether home cooked or from the fast food restaurants we frequent too often.  I cover it up with a tablecloth when we have guests, but underneath the scars are there.  Sometimes, I am embarrassed about how unkempt the table looks, but I won’t get rid of it, whether we ever get a new kitchen table or not.  The memories that table represent are too strong.

In the Christian tradition, we talk a lot about Jesus at tables, hanging out with people, eating, sharing time.  Many of those people were outcasts in their society, and Jesus’ willingness to sit and talk with them shook the norms of the day. When we share communion, we come to the “table” to remember Jesus’ last supper with his disciples, his life, death, and resurrection.  At our church, all are welcome to God’s table, especially those of us who are imperfect and wounded.  And aren’t we all?

If we visualize God’s symbolic table as physical and present today, we would see a crazy mess too.  Set full of food and drink to be sure, but the table’s surface bears the blemishes of the many people throughout the ages who’ve spent time with God.  That table discolored with tears, sweat and blood stains.  Prayers are written in pencil and permanent marker too.  The pockmarks left by the people who’ve scratched and clawed for survival or banged fists in frustration and anger clearly evident.  Glorious marks of creativity and inspiration splattered throughout.  The table has worn edges because it is crowded, but with room for more always.  The love contained in the stories and memories shared is ingrained and never erased.  God doesn’t feel the need to cover up this table to hide its imperfections.

As we journey through life, facing hardship, feeling desperate, expressing gratitude, or experiencing joy, let us imagine that table where we can meet God.  Pull up a chair and make your mark at the table.  Or yet, pull up chairs for others and demonstrate God’s love by welcoming them without reservation.  God is always at the table ready to talk.  Let us find peace at his table and follow his example.