Come to the Table: A Christian's Invitation to Jesus

I used to think joy was something you earned. That if you prayed hard enough, served enough people, said yes to enough needs, eventually God would hand you joy the way you'd hand a patient their discharge papers — a reward for having done everything right.

It never did. What followed was exhaustion wearing the mask of faithfulness.

It took a long time, and a fair amount of God gently taking things out of my hands, to understand what I'd gotten backward.

Joy wasn't waiting at the table.

Christ was.

And where He is received,

joy always follows.

What I Had to Unlearn

I think of the tables I grew up around — loud, crowded, completely unconcerned with whether you'd had a good day. You sat down. You ate. Someone told a story too many times. Nobody had to earn their seat. Joy wasn't a reward there — it was simply what happened when people stopped performing and started belonging to each other.

That's closer to what Jesus meant than anything I chased in thirty years of trying to be enough.

"These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full." 

Full — not earned. Given by the One who welcomes us to His table.

If you're anything like me, you may have confused joy with usefulness. You may believe, quietly, that rest is something you'll get to once the need in front of you is finally met. I want to tell you gently: the need will never run out. There will always be one more person to help, one more thing that seems to require your yes.

Joy isn't found at the end of that list. It's found in coming to the table — tired, behind, imperfect — where Christ has been waiting the whole time.

So here is what I'd say to you, from one exhausted yes-sayer to another: you are allowed to come to the table before you've finished the task list. You are allowed to let Christ meet you in the middle of an ordinary, unfinished day — and let joy follow from there, the way it always does.

His invitation was never "come once you've earned it." It was always just — come.