Thanksgiving is a wrap, and it has finally snowed in Minnesota. It is the first Sunday in Advent. As I look out on the lake starting to slowly freeze, I write “Buy Christmas Tree” on my to-do list, but my mind is still reflecting on Thursday.
This was a “different” Thanksgiving for us. We were taken in as “refugees”, fleeing from a year of hard memories, looking for a different home in which to celebrate the holiday.
I looked down the long, long table filled with laughter and flickering candlelight, conversations amongst our “other family” and some people I’d never met before and I was so thankful.
It was not the table of my hometown, not my immediate family, no brother David at the head, but still…we felt at home.
Because we were in a place of love and welcome and “There you are!”
There were hugs, and favorite dishes, “Tell me about…” and “I’m so sorry…”
You and I and those in refugee camps and on streets everywhere all long to be invited; to have a place at the table, to feel welcomed and loved and known.
And this is God’s desire for us. To have a place at His table.
As we light this first Advent candle called Hope, I think of the homeless, walking dusty roads near and far, looking for a place, today and 2,000 years ago.
I think of Jesus who seeks a home with us, and how as we welcome others we welcome Him.
We, as Jesus people have the opportunity to say “There’s room for everyone at the table. Come.” And instead we complain about red cups.
Where can we embody the Hope of Jesus today? What if we threw open the doors our hearts? What if we set a place at our table and welcomed someone in?