Between Tables + Thresholds

The art of making room at the table for others to belong.

Life has a way of being a series of thresholds.

Graduation. Race day. Marriage. Goals. Milestones. These are all the kinds of things we work toward for months or even years and expect to feel some level of accomplishment when completed.

But I’ve started to notice something about thresholds - how quickly they fade into the ordinary again, how they seem to give an illusion of arrival. There seems to be a gap between expectation and reality when milestones are met. And the question becomes, “Why doesn’t this achievement feel bigger?" And thus, discontentment and comparison are born. So, what do we do in the tension of accomplishing big goals? Because trust me, we're called to do big things for the Kingdom. I've been thinking, maybe it starts with us changing our perspective from viewing life not as a series of thresholds that need to be crossed, but as an opportunity to invite as many people to the table to do this crazy thing called life with as we possibly can. Because achievement without connection is pointless.

College is a unique time in life. Community (especially at Liberty) comes almost automatically. Meals are shared, routines are built and presence is offered without any effort or expectation. Countless stories are shared around the kitchen table, and deep, late-night conversations are the norm. There is a simple, easy being without any pressure to create or do anything.

Yet not even college lasts forever. Somehow the last night with my roommates in 303 came and went and I started to realize that college wasn’t just about achievement, but about who I walked with along the way. Belonging is beautiful and I’ve realized it cannot be earned; it must be shared.

One thing that being an endurance athlete (of some sort) has taught me is that there is always space for communion with others. Even though training often looks like long, solo miles where I’m forced to have quiet discipline and push through exhaustion on my own, when I look for opportunities to invite others to the table everything changes. Yes, we are called to run this race with endurance, but we were never called to run this race alone (Heb. 12:1; Gal. 6:2). I once heard it said that if dependence [on the Lord] is the goal then weakness is the advantage. Suffering strips us of our illusion of independence and reveals our dependence not only on those who we invite to the table, but on the One who sets the table before us (Ps 23:5). Even my most solitary miles have been threaded with other people, because ultimately, we're all running the same race back to our Savior longing to cross the final threshold and hear the words: “Well done, my good and faithful servant” (Matt. 25:21; 2 Tim. 4:7).

Change has a way of revealing where we’ve placed our dependence. When our usual rhythms are disrupted and we find ourselves in unfamiliar spaces, surrounded by silence where community used to be, where do we turn? It’s interesting how change has taught me how much of “home” is actually just those who I invited to the table.

But making room at the table isn't always easy, and it doesn't always come naturally. It takes effort. It takes time. It takes being interruptible and being vulnerable. But how precious it is when we look up and quietly realize that over the years the table grew and every seat is taken.   

I think there’s more value in noticing the meaning in the ordinary moments of life than we tend to realize. The shared moments and quiet rhythms of grace where intentional presence becomes the most important thing. Like writing a note or baking a loaf of banana bread or buying someone flowers, because it shows them that they’re invited and have a seat at your table. A life of faith changes what we notice, not just what we believe, and thus life becomes an invitation rather than a performance. Freely we have received, so freely we give (Matt. 10:8). Belonging is a gift, and it is a gift that should be given. How sweet it is that what I thought I had to earn, I have already been invited into. And what an honor it is that I get to invite others into it too.

Crossing a threshold will never transform us. Completing milestones will never satisfy us. Movement without meaning will never matter in eternity. Because if our goal is simply to cross the thresholds of life then we'll never be satisfied. Compared to the plans the Lord has for us (which are GOOD), our little life goals pale. But I have a feeling that if we learn to prioritize inviting others to the table throughout the journey then we might just witness something altogether lovely.

So, what if life is less about arrival and more about posture. Less about achievement and more about presence. Less about completion and more about prayerful intentionality. I thought college was going to teach me how to finish the race well. But I think it was quietly teaching me something completely different all along: how to keep making space at the table.

I think I’ll still cross thresholds, because life has a way of being a series of thresholds. But I don’t think that’ll be my main goal anymore. I think I’ll make sure that I live a life where there’s always room at the table for another person to take their seat.

Because I've learnt that I lack no good thing when I sit at my Father's table.

- Larah S x