The Table That Always Has Room

Every week at Gospel & Grass Stains, I see it happen.

Someone new walks up slow — coffee in hand, unsure if they belong. They hover for a second, eyes searching for a spot. Then someone scoots over, smiles, and says, “Right here.”

And just like that, the table grows.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a fold-out table in the yard, a picnic blanket under the trees, or a cluster of chairs pulled close when the wind starts to bite — somehow, there’s always room.

That’s what I love about this space. It isn’t about having it all together. It’s about showing up. It’s about being brave enough to bring your story — your messy, beautiful, still-in-progress story — and trust that you won’t have to sit alone with it.

This week during our one-word check-in, my word was proud.

It caught me off guard a little, because pride has never been something I’ve claimed. I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to stay small, trying to make sure I wasn’t “too much.” And sure, pride can get ugly when it’s about ego or being right — but this week, it felt different.

This was the kind of pride that feels holy.

The kind that whispers, look what God has done.

The kind that doesn’t puff up — it fills up.

I’m proud of what He’s brought me through, proud of what He’s still teaching me, and proud of the way He keeps using this little gathering to reach hearts I never could’ve reached on my own.

I look around each week and see people who just keep showing up.

People bringing new friends, new stories, new questions, new sparks.

And I can’t help but feel proud — not of myself, but of us.

Of the community God is building right here in the middle of the mess.

Because this table? It’s not perfect.

It’s mismatched mugs, chipped plates, coffee rings, and crumbs from last week’s conversations. But that’s what makes it beautiful.

It’s lived-in. It’s honest. It’s real.

It’s the kind of place where you can come tired, come doubting, come laughing, crying, or holding on by a thread — and still belong.

That’s the thing about God’s table.

It’s never full.

There’s always room.

So if you’re ever standing on the edge wondering if there’s space for you here — there is.

There always will be.

And one day, you’ll be the one scooting over, smiling, and saying,

“Right here.”