A chair at the Table. Really?
Rushing through the door into the big dining hall, she was awestruck when she noticed the difference in the atmosphere, from the golden silk tablecloth with white embroidery covering the dining table to the brightly burning candle lights set on golden stands artistically designed. She draws close as she caught sight of the patterned petals on the tablecloth, the fine dining cutleries with gold-plated patens, and the sound of the soft music playing.
What took her breath was the people seated at the table smiling and chatting. They all look so elegantly dress like royals. She looked around again to see if she could find anything familiar, or any traces of what they’ve been through before invited at the dining, but there was nothing she could trace. Suddenly the fresh warm tears like waterfall landed on her cheeks and down her outfit. She whispers to herself, “What am I doing here? Nobody looks like me. These are perfectly dressed refined people seated at a high table for a big super.” To the left of the table, there was an empty chair next to the Host. What she doesn’t realise was that all the people seated at the table have issues and circumstances beneath their fancy dressing. No one was perfect. It was GRACE that picked them up from their predicaments and clothed them so beautifully you can never imagine they’ve been through storms and brokenness.
She was about to run away when her eyes cross path with his, sending an electrifying standstill in the air. He seems to be the Host on the table. She quickly turned away to leave the room. However, before she could get to the door of the building, he caught her. She felt a warm, gentle grip on her arm. She turned around to see who it was, and there he took her into his arms and said, “excuse me, I believe the empty chair at the table is yours.”
She was lost for words, which is surprisingly not like her, as she is generally very conversational and seems to have an answer for everything, except this time around she couldn’t. Nor was she able to take her eyes off his. She was shaking as her heart melts on the inside, with unexplainable thrill. Lost in awe, trapped, and paralysed to her feet, she quickly replied, “sorry, it is not my seat,” trying to control her cracking voice.
“Yes, it is yours, and I made it ready and waiting for you,” he replied.
“No, I think I am in the wrong place. I don’t belong here. Who are you and why did you run after me?” She asked.
However, he took her by the hand and led her back into the dining hall, and to her seat saying, “I am the One who prepared a place at the table for you.”
There she was again reasoning within her while seated at a table where everyone seems to have it together, or so she thought — pondering why she felt like a misfit.
Anxious and so distraught, her glass of wine slipped through her fingers making a mess of her outfit. “Ohh no, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be clumsy,” she cried in disbelief. He rushed to her seat assuring her it was okay and not to worry.
She excused herself from the table and rushed to the ladies’ room with both hands on her face covering her rolling tears. “What was I doing?”
Suddenly, like a flash, as she stares into the mirror, the realisation hits her. There’s a choice to either stay at the table and drink from the gift of grace or walk away feeling and living like a misfit.
Have you ever felt like a misfit in your world? I have, and this article here refers to me. You know what though, all of us at some point feel unfit for the challenges and roles set before us, and the free gift of grace presented to us. So you are not alone. The good news is no matter who you are; you have a place at His table if only you allow Him to lead you. However, the choice is yours to make.
Will you accept the invitation of GRACE to partake at His table or will you walk away?
Comments are welcome.
A Lady for my King 