The Kings Table

Have you ever noticed something beautiful in the story of Mephibosheth?

There are some passages in Scripture that we read over and over again, only to discover one day that God has been waiting for us to notice something we had somehow missed before.

That happened to me recently as I was reading the story of Mephibosheth in 2 Samuel 9.

It's a familiar story. Mephibosheth was the son of Jonathan and the grandson of King Saul. When he was only five years old, tragedy struck. As his nurse fled for safety after hearing of Saul and Jonathan's deaths, she dropped him. From that day forward, he lived with crippled feet.

His brokenness wasn't hidden.

Everyone who knew Mephibosheth knew his story because they could see it every time he walked.

Can you imagine carrying something so visible your entire life? Every step reminding you of what had happened. Every glance from another person making you wonder if they saw you or simply the brokenness you carried. Then one day everything changed.

King David began asking a question that must have surprised everyone around him.

"Is there still anyone left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan's sake?" (2 Samuel 9:1)

David wasn't looking for someone to judge. He wasn't looking for someone who had earned his favor. He was looking for someone to whom he could extend grace because of a promise he had made years before.

When Mephibosheth was brought before the king, he expected the worst. Instead, David spoke words that changed the direction of his life.

"Do not be afraid." Those words still echo through Scripture today.

David restored his family's land, provided for him, and then made an invitation that has captured my heart.

"You shall always eat at my table."

As I continued reading, I noticed something I had never really considered before.

The Bible never says Mephibosheth's feet were healed. His circumstances didn't suddenly disappear. His brokenness remained. Yet every time he sat at the king's table, no one saw what had always defined him.

The table covered what was broken.

Not because there was anything special about the wood or the furniture, but because of what the table represented.

It represented grace.

It represented acceptance.

It represented honor.

It represented belonging.

The king wasn't pretending Mephibosheth had never been wounded. He wasn't ignoring his past or asking him to hide it. He simply refused to let his brokenness determine whether he had a place at the table.

The more I thought about that, the more I realized how much this reflects the heart of God.

Every one of us carries something broken.

Some carry grief after losing someone they deeply loved.

Some carry shame over choices they wish they could undo.

Others quietly carry fear, loneliness, disappointment, anxiety, rejection, or wounds that no one else even knows exist.

We become so accustomed to hiding those places that we begin believing we have to fix ourselves before we can come to God. Yet that has never been His invitation.

Jesus has never said, "Come when you've put yourself back together." He simply says, "Come."

Come weary.

Come broken.

Come grieving.

Come uncertain.

Come exactly as you are.

The King's invitation has never depended on our ability to hide what hurts. It has always depended upon His grace.

There is another verse that came to mind as I reflected on Mephibosheth's story.

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." (1 Peter 4:8)

Love covers.

Grace covers.

Not by pretending the brokenness doesn't exist, but by reminding us that it no longer has the final word.

Perhaps that's why tables are woven all throughout Scripture.

God prepared a table for Israel in the wilderness.

David wrote, "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies."

Jesus repeatedly chose to eat with those everyone else avoided.

At the Last Supper, He invited His disciples to remember His sacrifice around a table. And one day, we will all gather at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

From beginning to end, God has always been inviting people to His table.

Not because they deserved a seat. Because He wanted them there.

As I think about my own ministry, I realize this has become the heartbeat behind everything I do.

Whether someone picks up one of my books, joins us at The Widows' Table, watches one of the Come to the Table conversations, or walks into one of our gatherings, my prayer is always the same. I want them to feel what Mephibosheth must have felt.

That someone was expecting them.

That a chair had already been pulled out.

That they didn't have to explain their brokenness before they belonged.

Because we aren't simply building meetings or writing books.

We're setting another place at the table.

Everything else is simply what gathers us there.

The invitation to always come and sit at the Table...

A place where grace is served.

A place where hope is shared.

A place where people are seen.

A place where no one has to walk alone.

And the King's invitation still stands today for you.

If you've been carrying something that feels too heavy, too visible, or too broken, perhaps today is the day to stop standing at a distance.

The King already knows your story.

He already sees your brokenness.

And He is still saying the same words He spoke so long ago.

"Come. There's a place for you at My table."

Come to Him today, and give Him that which is broken. The word says that healing is the children's bread. Which I think is another word for another day.

But where ever you are today, He is there right beside you to bring you comfort and healing.

If this blog has resonated with you...please comment, share and like.

I would love to hear from you.

janis@janislewis.com