Every Season of Life Needs a Table

Life changes. The invitation to gather does not. 

This is the table where our grandson sat as we told him the stories behind the paintings on the walls. My prayer is he will remember the faith and values we passed along that evening.

Every season of life convinces us that the next season will finally be easier. We tell ourselves we'll have people over once the baby sleeps through the night, once soccer season ends, once the house is finished, or once we retire. Yet somehow, another chapter always arrives, and we feel busier than the one before. 

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens." (Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV).

God designed the seasons, and this verse always reminds me that life continually moves forward. We move from childhood to adulthood, from newlyweds to parents, from raising children, to empty nesting to watching our own children now raise their little ones. There are seasons of abundance and loss, seasons of celebration and heartbreak. 

The funny thing about life is we rarely recognize the chapter we are living in while we are in it. Instead, we spend most of our time looking ahead, convinced the next season will finally be the one when life slows down. 

Every chapter carries the same promise and the same temptation. The promise is that God will continue to work through whatever stage we find ourselves in. The temptation is to wait for the next season before embracing God’s call on our life.

I have fallen into that trap more times than I care to admit. There was always another project to finish, a room to organize, homework to help with, a graduation party to plan. I used to think only other people had time for hospitality. Yet the older I became, the more I realized I had it backwards.  

Hospitality is not something we do after life settles down. It is one of the ways God carries us through every part of our life. 

I believe the table is where a family's culture is built. Families are not shaped solely by extraordinary moments. They are formed by ordinary habits repeated thousands of times.

We often think children are impacted more by vacations, birthdays, and Christmas mornings. But they are shaped far more by thousands of weekday dinners. Around the table they learn to listen before speaking. They learn to disagree respectfully. They learn to ask questions, to apologize, to laugh together, and to notice when someone else has had a hard day. Meal after meal, year after year, those ordinary evenings become the foundation of extraordinary families.

This should not surprise us because the table has always held a special place in God's story. When you begin reading Scripture with this in mind, you cannot help but notice how often God uses meals to accomplish His purposes.

Jesus certainly taught in synagogues, on mountainsides, and from fishing boats, but some of His most meaningful ministry happened around meals. He accepted invitations into simple homes where conversations unfolded naturally around the table. He welcomed tax collectors, sinners, religious leaders, close friends, and even strangers to sit with Him. He fed hungry crowds. He transformed the Passover meal into what we now celebrate as the Lord's Supper. Then, after His resurrection, before sending Peter back into ministry, Jesus cooked breakfast for His disciples on the shore and restored a broken disciple over a shared meal.

Meals were never incidental to Jesus' ministry. They were one of His chosen methods to reach others. Jesus chose the table to reveal truth, restore relationships, extend grace, and prepare people for the work God had called them to do.

There is something about sharing a meal that changes us. We slow down. We linger. We listen. We ask questions we might never ask while rushing from one responsibility to the next.

We often think the meal is the ministry, but Scripture suggests otherwise. The meal creates the opportunity, but the ministry happens through conversations, encouragement, forgiveness, laughter, tears, and the relationships that grow because people choose to gather.

The family table is more than a place to eat. Long before our children earn diplomas or begin careers, they are learning what love looks like, how healthy families communicate, and what it means to invite others to the table. The table is where those lessons are practiced over and over again until they become part of who we are.

During the childrearing years, the table is often not impressive. Someone spills the milk. Another refuses to eat vegetables. Half the meal is spent cutting food into smaller pieces or reminding little ones to stay in their chairs. It is easy to compare those moments to the beautiful tables we see in magazines and conclude that we will become hospitable once life feels less chaotic. What a tragedy that would be, because we teach our children how to be hospitable when we show hospitality to others. 

As children grow into teenagers, the table begins serving a different purpose. Schedules become complicated, and family dinners require more intentionality than they once did. Ironically, that is exactly when they become even more valuable. Some of the best conversations with teenagers begin after the meal is over, when no one is in a hurry to leave the table. 

These are also the years when our children's friends begin noticing something they may not even have in their own homes. They notice adults who ask their almost-adult children questions and engage in dialogue, because they are genuinely interested. They see a family that laughs together and sometimes disagrees. And they see people who invite an outsider to pull up a chair. We may never fully know the impact our table has on another family's child, but I suspect eternity will reveal stories we never imagined.

Then one day, almost without warning, the house becomes quiet. Rooms that felt small now feel too large. 

I remember the first weeks of our empty nest stage. I would go into my son’s quiet room, lie on his bed and cry. My heart ached so much. He was off to college, in the army and for the most part never lived in our home again. 

During this stage of life, family dinners become holiday traditions rather than nightly routines. Because of this new change, it is tempting to think the table has fulfilled its purpose because the children are gone. But after I spent many quiet nights in our home, I came to believe the opposite is true. Every season does change what happens around the table, but none of them diminish its importance.

Scripture consistently reminds us that family extends beyond biology. Perhaps an empty nest is not God's invitation to close our table but to open it even wider. Some of the loneliest people in our community are praying someone will have them over for dinner. They do not need fine china or a table filled with people. They simply need an invitation.  

The empty nest may last a few years or many, but eventually another chapter begins. We suddenly find ourselves in a new stage of life. Grandchildren begin climbing into the same chairs where our own children once sat. The conversations sound different as wisdom is passed from one generation to another.

Just recently, we had the most precious moment around our table with our 4-year-old grandson. We were sitting in our Wine Room where there is a small table for 6. After the meal, he sat on my lap and, for the first time, noticed the paintings we had hanging on the walls.  

Each piece captured a different scene from another time, inviting us to imagine the lives of the people who were portrayed. My husband and I began creating stories for what we saw in the artwork. And the dialogue continued from there. It was as though we were telling bedtime stories, but instead of curled up under sheets, we were snuggled up to the table. 

Even the hardest chapters, where challenges are experienced, can reveal the remarkable gift that can come when we gather. A table cannot heal cancer. It cannot restore a broken marriage. It cannot erase grief. But it reminds people they do not have to walk through suffering alone. When we invite those who are struggling into our home, hope often grows. The lonely don’t feel so alone, and the broken find relief through a little laughter. For one night, life feels a little normal. 

Looking back at each stage of life, we realize every chapter gives us legitimate reasons to postpone hospitality. Yet we need to change our thinking, because every chapter also contains opportunities. Opportunities that once they are gone, we may never have again. If we wait for the perfect season to extend hospitality, we will miss precious moments that will shape the future of our families and community. 

God did not intend for hospitality to be extended when circumstances were just right. He intended hospitality to be extended even when our lives were too chaotic. Sharing a meal and opening our home looks different when there are toddlers than when there are teenagers. It changes again when the house is quiet or grandchildren begin filling the home. The environment may change, but the calling never does.

We are to live faithfully in the place God has entrusted to us today.

So, keep setting the table. Set it when life is noisy. Set it when life is quiet. Set it when there are empty places that remind you that someone is missing. Set it because every meal is another opportunity to strengthen relationships, to pass along wisdom, and to include others. 

One day, your table will be empty. Your children will have homes of their own, and your grandchildren will fill other chairs. Recipes you once prepared often may now be forgotten, and the plates that graced your table for years may eventually be donated for someone else to enjoy. But the habits formed around your table will live on in another home, and then another, and another.

Never underestimate what God can do through one family that keeps setting the table. The table has never simply been about food. It has always been one of God's greatest tools for forming families, building community, and shaping the next generation.

The table shapes the home.

The home shapes families.

Families shape society.

Wherever you find yourself today, keep setting the table. Someone's future may be changed by the chair you leave open.

Together with you,

Lisa Lou

Discover More