Sitting at the Table

Matthew 9:9–13

Phrases that spoke to me today:
• He saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post
• He said to him, Follow me
• He got up and followed him
• Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do
• I desire mercy, not sacrifice

Applying the Word to my Life:
Imagine being Matthew. Just sitting at your post, doing your job, living inside whatever story you are living in. And some stranger comes along and asks you to follow him. Would you get up or would you stay? If I’m honest, I’d probably stay—and I’d have reasons that sound responsible.

We like to talk about bringing God closer—closing the distance between God and us. And most of the time we talk like we need to somehow bring God closer to us. But we see the truth with Matthew. It looked like he was all alone, but Jesus was already there. Jesus sees him—not as a category, not as a problem, not as a project. He knows there is a gap that needs to close and issues a simple invitation: Follow me.

God is everywhere. I believe that. And still, I can go days living like He’s across the room—like I have to work my way toward Him, like I’m the one trying to get His attention. Not because God is absent, but because I’m guarded. I’m distracted. I’m managing what parts of my life are allowed to be touched.

That moment reminds me of how often I search for what I already have. I’ve had the “keys” moment—patting pockets, checking counters, walking through rooms—sure they must be somewhere else. And then I realize I’ve been holding them the whole time. Nothing moved. The keys didn’t hide. I was just scattered enough to forget what was already in my hand. I can do the same thing with God. I can act like nearness is complicated when the real problem is that I’m living like mercy is somewhere else.

It feels a little safer if everything is off in the distance. In that case delay is natural—I need time to get ready for that journey. But the truth is that it isn’t “over there.” Jesus ends up at a table with tax collectors and sinners. Tables are where you get associated with the people you’re near. There’s no hiding what kind of life you’re choosing. There is no shortage of people close by—myself included—that would help fill that table. And the Pharisees ask what I still feel sometimes: Why would you eat with them? Why would He eat with me?

Mercy goes where the need is. Which means nearness moves me in two ways, with both leading in the same direction. I get nearer to God when I let Him in close enough to name what’s sick in me without me flinching away. And I get nearer to God when I start doing what He does—when I open my heart to others who need that closeness and start treating them like neighbors to love. When those motions combine, they lead me to my seat at that table.

The distance is contained entirely in my heart. Jesus is already there. The only thing keeping us apart is what I’ve built—self-made, respectable, justified, nicely explained. Matthew shows the gap isn’t closed by becoming impressive. He closes it by getting up. He lets Jesus be close enough to call him, and then he follows Jesus right into the kind of closeness that gets messy—into tables, into people, into mercy that can’t stay theoretical.

What are the excuses I hold in my heart that keep me from taking my seat at the table?

My Response for Today:
Today I will get up, follow Jesus, and choose closeness with Him and mercy toward the people I’m tempted to keep at a distance.