Sisyphus Goes to Lunch

Why is it that we can know absolutely we’re not the only one who feels a thing, and yet when we do feel it, it isolates us from others?

There are days (okay, almost every one) where my life feels like an endless middle school lunchroom and I can’t find a seat.

The thing I want you to know about me is that I really try.

That’s what I used to tell my art teacher whenever he looked at my project, shook his head, and asked if I’d understood the instructions. I did. That’s the sad part! I did understand the goal, and yet looking at my work, you’d think I was in the restroom when it was assigned.

When I’m tired, the evil one convinces me that’s how God will see my life. The accuser whispers to me in every room I enter that no one has saved me a seat, I’ll never find my place, and I’ll likely wander endlessly – doomed to carry my tray from table to table. Sisyphus goes to lunch.

Which is why I sat in my car weeping earlier this week as I listened to Matthew West’s worship song tell me there’s a place at our Father’s table waiting for me.

Are there words more beautiful than that? I have a place at the table. Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for me.

He’s already seen my life. I’m the only one surprised by its shortcomings. I’m the only one dismayed when my results don’t match my aspirations. Jesus has changed the matrix by which my life and heart are measured, so I have nothing to fear.

He saves me a seat.

When we follow Jesus, we have this promise.  “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” Revelation 3:20

Great and small, on some level, we’re all wandering around, holding our trays, trying to find a seat at a table where we’ll be welcome. He has one saved for you, loved one.

Live like someone who knows they have an invitation and reserved seat. Live like someone who breaks bread with God.

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    The Conversation

  1. Paul Taylor says:

    And, according to another song, He knows your name. Mine too.

  2. Jan Vickers says:

    You are not alone.

  3. Phil Disney says:

    I’ve heard a lot of smart people say that the best way to have a friend, is to be a friend. Instead of looking for our place at the table, we might be better served by looking for someone who is sitting alone or like ourselves, looking for a place. (sentence structure forgiven). Some days I too long to be home in Beulah Land, and I look for approval all week long. I exhaust myself. It seems that my arriving church invites the solemn stares of those seated on the back row. The back row is always the first to arrive and the first to leave.

  4. Jann Butts says:

    Lori, your words are how I feel 99.9% of the time. Like I’m roaming around totally lost while everybody else seems to know where they’re going — and that someone will be waiting for them when they arrive.
    My pastor uses the word “tabernacled” to describe where Yeshua is: He resides with us, around us, inside us. There’s nowhere He isn’t when it comes to His children.
    THANK YOU for once again revealing we are (most of us) the same in our concerns, fears, worries. I need to be reminded no matter how utterly alone and forgotten I feel, I am NOT alone and forgotten.
    May our Almighty Father continue to wrap His arms around you (and the rest of us) and hold you close to His heart.

  5. Joanne Urbany says:

    Thank you so much for this word, Lori. I have to print this out and place it in my prayer journal. I most often feel like this, but this week, it was a literal experience at a fund-raising luncheon for the substance agency for which I work as a drug and alcohol counselor. My name tag had the table number on it. People were talking to each other all around me, but no one was talking to me. I found my way to my table alone. My table was the very last table in the room. Hmmmmmm. I sat at the table alone for quite sometime when a gentlemen finally sat down next to me. He turned out to be an alumni, 7 months clean and sober from alcohol. We had an amazing conversation. He was Jewish and we discussed the spirituality of the 12 Steps and I shared how God had called me into the counseling field. God redeemed my “aloneness” in a beautiful way. It was painful that none of my colleagues spoke to me or befriended me, but to sit next to “the least of these” and have a life-giving conversation was worth the rejection. I look forward to my seat at Jesus’ table and I thank you for this beautiful reminder.

  6. Charla says:

    You mean I am not the only one? My lunch tray just lessened in weight. Thank you for your obedience to write.