Is There Room for Me at the Table?

 A table at Nazareth Village, Israel (taken by Elizabeth)

Is there room for me at the table? 

With my honest questions 

And my opposing opinions? 

Is there room for me at the table?

To bear my heart 

And be painfully vulnerable?

Is there room for me at the table? 

Even when I bring messy emotions

And messier words?

Is there room for me at the table? 

To look past those things 

And see my heart? 

Even when you don’t understand?

The question reverberates in my mind

Echoing in all the chambers

Tossing and turning like a churning sea.

But then, 

the words of Psalms 23 

come like a salve 

over all my wounded soul scrapes

over all the cuts in my heart

over all the bruises in my mind.

You prepare a table before me,

In the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil,

My cup overflows. 

And as the salve sinks in,

A new question comes to the surface

Am I willing to sit at the table? 

Even when it’s awkward

And I’d rather be safe? 

Am I willing to sit at the table? 

When emotions rise 

And I have to bite my tongue?

Am I willing to sit at the table? 

Giving honor to the people

I don’t understand? 

Am I willing to sit at the table?

Because I believe that people

Are worth it?

A quiet determination whispers. 

I will sit at the table prepared before me. 

I will occupy my place at the table.

I will prepare the table for people to be. 

Holding fast to the anointing

And to the conversations that bring change

And to the honor still to give 

And to the hope that stirs softly. 

**Side Note: I'm not saying people are enemies, but there can definitely be some ungodly spirits you can easily come up against during hard conversations. On all sides, and we have to constantly be checking our own hearts and making sure they aren't hardened.