Table of Blessing

Jesus’ disciples were real people, with smelly feet and strong feelings.  They got tired, irritable, anxious, and jealous. By the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry, they had laughed, wept, despaired, and been reborn.  Eventually, each faithful disciple learned to suffer, work, and love more deeply than he ever dreamed.  Jesus selected His disciples individually, and each said yes.  He taught them for three years, with daily examples of patience, love, and self-discipline.  He talked to them intimately, preparing them, and eventually sharing truth that most could not believe.  Jesus showed them abundant life.  After times of profound communion with His Father, Jesus walked on water, cast out raging demons, and raised the dead.  Jesus confounded the religiously self-righteous, but healed the plain folks with words of love, hope, and promise.  Bread and fish multiplied in His hands when He blessed it.  The disciples were always astounded.  They never really adjusted to the supernatural, until afterward.  Each disciple got used to having Jesus, and each wanted Him for himself.  I understand.  I have grown to love Jesus since I said yes to Him.  But I like it when it is just Him and me.  Worship.  Reading His Words and really listening.  Last weekend, I found myself at a table of His disciples.  We did not know each other before our structured gathering.  We could have been on the shore in Galilee, but actually it was in Cumberland County.  Loud laughter, wrinkled noses, sideways glances, weary smiles.  A group of disciples, all wanting Jesus, but not necessarily each other.  It was a challenge to love one another.  We began to try.  Lots of side bar rebellion, but He was at work lovingly, patiently, quietly.  By the third day, we had agreed to love each other as well as Jesus.  I feel like a fallow field, having been newly plowed and broken open.  I have been sown with blessings.  By God’s grace, may a harvest follow.


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