Here at this Table
I sit here today at our new kitchen table in our new home.
In truth, the table is from Craigslist, and the kitchen was built in 1989. And yet, everything about this little house is so brand new to me. The walls, the floors, the sound Ellie’s little paws make slipping and sliding across said floors. But mostly, the responsibility overwhelms me. The echoes of our realtor saying, “Let’s go sign your life away!” three weeks ago. The first mortgage payment we will make in the days to come. Suddenly, in place of gratefulness… all I feel is fear.
I walk through the virtually empty rooms, praying and crying a little and listening to “Oceans” over and over… “Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders; let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.”
I can sing those words by memory because I’ve prayed them so often over these past six months. The months that felt like lost time… like wasted space. Like yearning for fireworks but holding a single, burnt-out match.
“Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders…”
And so I sit here, at this new-ish table in this new-ish home, choosing to look out onto our pretty backyard and say, “This is the day that the Lord has made,” and find hope in those simple words. I cut up some strawberries—the sweetest-smelling strawberries I’ve ever smelled—and enjoy eating them in a beautiful little bowl. I pull out my Bible for the first time in a while, adding up the chapters I lost in ‘Eat This Book’, trying to find a bookmark big enough to hold all the pages I need to catch up on. (Lately, it’s seemed as if my relationship with God was like shouting at a brick wall. Now I’m wondering if I’ve been the brick wall.) But before the guilt sinks in, I feel the Spirit say, “Do not fear. Do not feel shame. You’re here now, Melie… and I’ve been waiting for you.” And then I read the Word of God—words that seem just as new to me as this Craigslist coffee table and this 1989 kitchen—and I submit.
In place of the fearful, Sweet Jesus, usher in the thankful. In place of worrying about coffee tables, back decks, landscaping, and office furniture, remind me of these sweet-smelling strawberries in this cute little bowl. The little pup that makes me laugh as she slides into the wall for the 100th time. The sacrificial husband who finishes his Master’s this week, yet still made time to take me on a special, Tuesday-night date. The Savior who paid the ultimate price so that I could sit here at this table, free from sin, free from death, free from fear. You are the kindest comfort… the One Thing that remains when all else seems blurry and broken. How could I be anything but thankful?
Now, you may read this and think, “Wow, Mel regrets buying her house. She’s going through a hard time.” And you’d be a little bit right. This home-owning thing is new for us, and it’s intimidating. But mostly, I think this is just me walking with the Lord into a new adventure. It’s another opportunity to cast my cares upon Him because He cares for me. Another moment to recognize when the enemy takes something beautiful (like the blessing of a new home) and tries to pervert it through fear and unbelief. Another day to trust that the God of Angel Armies is always on our side.
Another day to strive for rest, for joy, for shalom through the Word and my good, gentle, almighty Savior.
It’s all part of the process. And as I eat out of this new bowl at our new table in our new house, He is making me new. He is leading me where my trust is without borders. He is turning these simple moments of difficult faith and sweet-smelling strawberries into fireworks.
And so today, I choose to whisper through the halls of this home, “This is the day that the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.”
