bringing our doubts to the table
There’s something about gathering around a table that holds deep significance. We gather around the table for a variety of reasons with a variety of people, but the purpose is usually the same: to commune or connect with one another. This could look like enjoying a family dinner, grabbing a drink with friends, feasting at Sunday morning brunch, drinking a good cup of coffee in a crowded coffee shop, and the list goes on.
In the Bible, Jesus gathers around tables on the reg with the unlikeliest of crowds. The Pharisees (religious leaders) get mad on multiple occasions because Jesus is hanging out with the “sinners” of society rather than the “righteous religious leaders” who “have it all together.” The Pharisees were disgusted that Jesus sat around the table with these so-called outcasts of society—the tax collectors, fisherman, blind, poor, sick. It seems that these religious leaders thought that gathering around the table was more about status and less about the people they were actually with. But Jesus saw it differently; Jesus chose to sit at the table with the unlikeliest of people because He—unlike the rest of society—saw hope in those people. And the people that He dined with were forever changed because of it.
One major thing I notice in reading the New Testament is that Jesus didn’t force people to come to the table and join him; rather, I imagine Jesus invited people to come and dine with Him and vice versa. In other words, it was an open invitation to all who chose to eat with Him. These people didn’t need to “do” anything—they just needed to accept the invitation and show up.
In the Bible, Jesus gathers around tables on the reg with the unlikeliest of crowds. The Pharisees (religious leaders) get mad on multiple occasions because Jesus is hanging out with the “sinners” of society rather than the “righteous religious leaders” who “have it all together.” The Pharisees were disgusted that Jesus sat around the table with these so-called outcasts of society—the tax collectors, fisherman, blind, poor, sick. It seems that these religious leaders thought that gathering around the table was more about status and less about the people they were actually with. But Jesus saw it differently; Jesus chose to sit at the table with the unlikeliest of people because He—unlike the rest of society—saw hope in those people. And the people that He dined with were forever changed because of it.
One major thing I notice in reading the New Testament is that Jesus didn’t force people to come to the table and join him; rather, I imagine Jesus invited people to come and dine with Him and vice versa. In other words, it was an open invitation to all who chose to eat with Him. These people didn’t need to “do” anything—they just needed to accept the invitation and show up.
My journey of doubt
?I can’t help but chuckle at this invitation to the table and how significant it still is in our lives today. Jesus always offers us an invitation to dine with Him, but it’s our choice to actually come and show up to the table. I get in my head a lot, wondering why I’m not “hearing” God or seeing Him show up, and his simple words are “just come to the table, my daughter. Bring your doubts and come dine with me.”
TBH, this is easier said than done, as I’ve seen in my travels over the past 3 months. Coming into my trip out west, I was in a sad, confused, and downcast headspace, struggling with a lot of pent up doubts that had been building in my head for months. I would try to “come to the table” with the Lord to read my Bible, pray, and worship, but the result was usually a mix of apathy and disappointment. For months, I felt like I was trudging up to an empty table, sitting there half-heartedly, and then walking away feeling unmoved, and possibly more downcast than before, wondering where my passion and fervor had gone.
I thought that leaving my daily routine and going out west would snap me out of this cycle of doubt and apathy, but it didn’t; in fact, I was actually forced to face it head-on rather than continue to brush it under the rug. Everything kind of came to a head when I got to my uncle’s cabin in the middle of nowhere Colorado. I was completely alone for the first time in about a year, with nothing but squirrels and moths to hear my tears…
?I can’t help but chuckle at this invitation to the table and how significant it still is in our lives today. Jesus always offers us an invitation to dine with Him, but it’s our choice to actually come and show up to the table. I get in my head a lot, wondering why I’m not “hearing” God or seeing Him show up, and his simple words are “just come to the table, my daughter. Bring your doubts and come dine with me.”
TBH, this is easier said than done, as I’ve seen in my travels over the past 3 months. Coming into my trip out west, I was in a sad, confused, and downcast headspace, struggling with a lot of pent up doubts that had been building in my head for months. I would try to “come to the table” with the Lord to read my Bible, pray, and worship, but the result was usually a mix of apathy and disappointment. For months, I felt like I was trudging up to an empty table, sitting there half-heartedly, and then walking away feeling unmoved, and possibly more downcast than before, wondering where my passion and fervor had gone.
I thought that leaving my daily routine and going out west would snap me out of this cycle of doubt and apathy, but it didn’t; in fact, I was actually forced to face it head-on rather than continue to brush it under the rug. Everything kind of came to a head when I got to my uncle’s cabin in the middle of nowhere Colorado. I was completely alone for the first time in about a year, with nothing but squirrels and moths to hear my tears…
Anyway, I got to the cabin and wept for a good hour. Not really sure what I was even crying about, but I had so much built up anxiety and anger and sadness and disappointment that it just flowed and flowed out of me like a waterfall of tears streaming into the river outside of the cabin walls. And while crying, I just started talking out loud to the Lord all of these thoughts and ponderings that had been brewing inside of my head, wondering where He was and why I didn’t feel the passion that I once felt. And in expressing those doubts, the weight of what I had been feeling lifted a little. And it kept lifting the more that I continued to walk in faith, trusting His character and goodness despite the unknown.
Overcoming doubt?
All of this to say, God had a plan for me on my trip out west. Although it looked nothing like I thought it would, I am forever grateful for what it turned out to be. I got to rest, see new sights, and commune with both old and new friends.
I can’t say that doubt disappears in one night, but I can say that overcoming doubt seems to be a journey of one small “yes” after another. Bringing what we have to the table and letting Jesus fill those spaces in between. Despite not “feeling” the Lord’s presence, I’ve been learning that faith isn’t about how we feel; rather, faith is choosing to press in to what we can’t see, to say “yes” when it makes no sense, and to trust that the Lord is taking care of us, even when we don’t feel it.
All of this to say, God had a plan for me on my trip out west. Although it looked nothing like I thought it would, I am forever grateful for what it turned out to be. I got to rest, see new sights, and commune with both old and new friends.
I can’t say that doubt disappears in one night, but I can say that overcoming doubt seems to be a journey of one small “yes” after another. Bringing what we have to the table and letting Jesus fill those spaces in between. Despite not “feeling” the Lord’s presence, I’ve been learning that faith isn’t about how we feel; rather, faith is choosing to press in to what we can’t see, to say “yes” when it makes no sense, and to trust that the Lord is taking care of us, even when we don’t feel it.
“You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him now, you trust him; and you rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy.” (1 Peter 1:8)
I was talking to my roommate yesterday and she said, “it might seem like you’re coming to an empty table, but what if you just can’t see Jesus because He’s sitting in the same chair as you?” In other words, what if we’re just forgetting that Jesus is actually dwelling inside of us all of the time? It’s so easy to become so self-focused that we forget that Jesus Christ, the living hope, dwells inside of us 24/7, and He is there to comfort us in all of our sorrows and troubles. I think the enemy can take our doubts and twist them, making us feel alone when, in reality, Jesus just wants us to come to the table and bring our doubts to Him, letting Him do the work.
“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.” (James 1:2-3)
So my exhortation to you all: keep saying “yes” to Jesus. Even if it takes everything in you, and even if your “yes” feels small, keep going and don’t give up. God sees you, He is faithful, and the best place we can be is in His arms. I can’t say it’s been an easy journey, but I can say that the foundations being built during this time of wondering and doubting will plant roots even deeper than before.
