The Table

I’m working on a sweet project this morning.

Last weekend I acquired a child-height, round, solid wood table from a friend. It was covered in crayon, marker, glue, Scotch tape, glitter, sticker trash and who knows what else. My friend told me that it used to be used in a children’s Sunday School class in Alabama.

Initially, my thought was that I’d simply wipe it well to remove surface dirt, but as I did, the traces of Sunday School started dissolving away too. For a number of reasons, I decided to go ahead and really put some elbow grease into it and get it all off. I’m almost done. It’s kind of sad. In a way I wish I had simply wiped it down and then put a clear coat of lacquer OVER it; that way, we could still see all the evidence of what could be many years of Sunday School craft time!

And I also can’t help but wonder (and please indulge me on the personification) …
– how many times this table has heard the name of Jesus
– which of the stories of Jesus is the table’s favorite
– how many times this table has heard “Jesus Loves Me”
– how many tears have been shed and wiped at this table
– how many children have received saving faith while seated around this table
– how many Sunday School teachers have come to faith in Jesus while speaking His name, telling His stories and leading the songs of praise to Him while in the room with this table (you know that it works this way sometimes, don’t you?)

And I hope that this table feels at home in our house… we also speak the Name, tell the stories, sing the praises, cry and wipe tears here. And we have a faith that has saved us from ourselves. It’s not a house of worship, but it is a home filled with worshipers.