This Table is You

“The communion table is looking really bad. I think we need to retire it and maybe get another one.”
“The old table has seen much better days.” 
“Look at it. It is stained from all the communion juice. It has layers of wax from Christmas and wedding candles. It looks really bad and it is impossible to clean up.”
“I think it is time for the table to go.”

The descriptions were fitting but I liked the old table. It was very simply made of raw, unfinished cedar. The rough wood did make it nearly impossible to clean and you were almost certain to get a splinter trying. I decided to take the old table home and try to clean it up, add a little stain to the legs, and help it better match our building and other tables.

I cleaned it with wax and grease remover as best I could and scraped all the wax from the surface that I could see or feel. I washed it again and let it dry for a couple of days.
On my day off, I got to work on the table. I started sanding with an electric sander. The wax had seeped into the pores of the wood and would quickly clog the paper on the sander making it useless. I went through one sheet of sandpaper after another. I began to think that maybe they were right, and it was just time to let the old beat-up table go.

Then, finally, wood dust started coming up, a little here and a little there. I sanded more and more until the entire surface was free of the years of wax. I stopped and wiped the table top off to see what was there. There were long grooves scratched into the wood surface. There were dents and dings, some small and some pretty large. There were chips and holes and a few deep stains. The trim of the top was banged up, splintered, and its angles no longer square.

The years were hard on the table. It had been well used and even a little abused in its 11 or 12 years of service. It was there when our church shared space with The 567 and our sanctuary was also a music venue. It had been moved in and out of the room, stored in a closet many times over. It had carried well more weight than it probably should have as more and more would be stacked on it during concerts. It was moved on and off the stage for who knows how many events. It held flowers for funerals as well as for weddings. The wax I sanded off was layers from Sunday mornings, Christmas Eve services, and more than a few weddings. The ends and edges were beaten, I imagine, from the countless trips in and out of storage closets. The stains of communion juice were deep in the wood. So I sanded even more, removing the shallower scrapes and grooves, trying to eliminate the splintered places, erasing the stains of communion juice.

When I had done all that I thought I could, I blew off the table with a blower and cleaned up the dust I might have missed with a rag. I stained the legs and apron ebony to match our other tables. The top I left natural, loving the grain of the cedar. I finished by applying several coats of a water-based polyurethane and set it on my deck to finish drying.

A little later I went out to check on the table. The top was dry. The natural wood of the top was beautiful. I ran my hand over the surface and much of the trim several times. No more splinters.
At a glance, you wouldn’t see them, but look closely and you will – the grooves, the dents, the dings, the holes, the rounded edges of the once squared trim.

The simple little table is beautiful to me, but it carries many scars, scars that you can see and feel with close enough inspection. Forgive me, for being a little sentimental here. Looking out at the table, at the redemption that had taken place, it suddenly hit me that thousands of communions had been served from that table, men and women, young and old had celebrated Jesus through the bread and juice, his body and blood. It had served as a place to briefly fellowship with him in that meal. The flowers it held paid honor to loved ones lost and held the promise of joyful families that might one day be on the days that vows were shared by newlyweds. Every year that table held the candles of advent pointing hundreds and hundreds to the hope, joy, peace, and love that come to us through the birth of Jesus, the Light of the World!

As I ran my hand over the beautifully refinished cedar table top, feeling the scars, it felt like the Spirit was saying, “This table is you. I know that you are tired and weary. I know that your scars run deep, and the effects of mistakes still appear as stains. But you are beautiful to me. And there is more to be done.”

This past Sunday that beautifully redeemed table stood right where it should, on the floor just in front of the stage. As it has for many years, it held the candles of Advent and the decorations of Christmas.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but believer, this table is you.
In Christ, He is still redeeming and restoring. He is not done with you. There are more communions to serve, more flowers to hold, more people to help, to love, to point to Jesus.
This table is you, marked by the scars and stains of life, weary from heavy loads, but beautiful in his eyes.
So don’t give up. Take your place, right where you should be, serving, loving, and giving. It’s what you were created for. He sees you. He knows your worth and value. He is with you and you are loved.