THERE’S ROOM AT THE TABLE, AND YOU ARE INVITED

It was a hard decision… choosing what my very first post of 2017 would be. and then, rather suddenly, it wasn’t actually difficult at all. allow me to explain…

if you are familiar with the Untidy Grace Manifesto, which I posted here last fall, or if you’ve read the meet moriah page, you’ll know the way my heart beats. the very vibration of my bones is for you, for my people, to know that you belong here, that your journey is invaluable, and that your becoming is the most important thing you could ever invest in, because your becoming is all about redemption and reconciliation and healing- for you and for the whole world.
and so this post, born of that heartache-y vibration, is my love letter to you, dear soul. let these words be the ones that ring in your ears and echo until 2017 has come and gone and you have lived wild and holy and brave…

there is always room at the table. and if there isn’t more room at your table, you’re at the wrong table.

friend, here’s a shock for you: you are invited. 

in a space throbbing with the ever-changing “you’re in“, and “you’re out” rhetoric, and the chaotic drumbeat of a song you never quite learned how to dance to (but somehow everyone else did), there is a table to which you are- to which you’ve always been– invited.

there is a table where the under-valued and the stumbling misfits and the mentally ill and the cast-offs and the theologically inept and the trying-but-failing and the battered and broken sit together and healing happens.
belonging happens.
Jesus happens.

there is a table without a dress code and with no prerequisite except for coming, fully human, ferociously hungry, as you are.

there is a table where your story is heard, your journey is honored, and your small piece of humanity is woven proudly into the unfolding, scandalous drama of grace.

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some pretend they own the table (and the invitations, too), but if they’re honest, they felt uncomfortable there and made their own. their table is not The Table. and if you have been excluded from their table, you can rest assured you don’t want to be there anyway.

but you’re invited to The Table.

the food lasts forever, and the drink is the best you’ve ever had. the conversation won’t make you squirm, and there’s never any small talk. it’s all real here.

but the beauty of it is that Jesus hands out the invitations. and while some may put up their noses, those of us who know (I mean really just know) that Jesus wept and sweat blood and touched the ones who craved human contact and shielded the walked-on with grace… we run joyfully to His table. His table is home to us.

there is always room at the table. and if there isn’t more room at your table, you’re at the wrong table.

more… more… more! more room always! there is room for us! for you!

there is space for your story here. there is an open ear listening for your voice. there is a place set for you and a seat waiting for you to rest your weary bones upon.

come empty.

come hungry.

come wanting.

look around you at the loneliness, the exclusion, and the closed doors; and then realize these are your invitations to more.

to fullness.

to a meal for your soul.

to a table that satisfies.

you are invited.

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