The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.
What a person desires in life is a properly boiled egg. This isn’t as easy as it seems. There must be gas and a stove, the gas requires pipelines, mastodon drills, banks that dispense the lozenge of capital. There must be a pot, the product of mines and furnaces and factories, of dim early mornings and night-owl shifts, of women in kerchiefs and men with sweat-soaked hair. Then water, the stuff of clouds and skies and God knows what causes it to happen. There seems always too much or too little of it and more pipelines, meters, pumping stations, towers, tanks. And salt — a miracle of the first order, the ace in any argument for God. Only God could have imagined from nothingness the pang of salt. Political peace too. It should be quiet when one eats an egg. No political hoodlums knocking down doors, no lieutenants who are ticked off at their scheming girlfriends and take it out on you, no dictators posing as tribunes. It should be quiet, so quiet you can hear the chicken, a creature usually mocked as a type of fool, a cluck chained to the chore of her body. Listen, she is there, pecking at a bit of grain that came from nowhere.
I walked home with Jerry’s house plant on the day of his thrown together estate sale. So random – so messy – feeling out of sorts over his sudden death – a good neighbor no more. And now just weeks later, his plant blooms in our home during this Thanksgiving week. While his current view from heaven may all be in bloom, our view is often limited. And yet – there is blooming all about – especially is we have the eyes to see it.
This poem “Small Kindness” reminds of those needed daily blooms.
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.” + Danusha Laméris
Tonight I want to share a few inspirational stories and words that speak to the heart of God’s design for flourishing. May these words move us together as we pray and discern about our 2026 Flourish commitments.
The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon; planted in the house of the LORD, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green.
Devotion Story by Mark Roberts of the Depree Center
Years ago, when I was the pastor of Irvine Presbyterian Church, a man named Gary regularly worshiped with us on Sunday mornings. Gary was Jewish, raised in the Orthodox tradition. Though he was not a believer in Jesus, he nevertheless enjoyed our worship services and often had questions for me about my sermons. He started coming when his wife joined the church.After several years of worship attendance, Gary put his faith in Jesus, whom he believed to be the true Messiah. As a new Christian, Gary was eager to grow. So, he started attending a weekly Bible study that I taught early on Thursday mornings.
One day in that study, we were looking at a passage from 1 Corinthians 12, where the church is described as the body of Christ. In that study, I emphasized the importance of Christian community for every aspect of our lives, including worship, mission, spiritual growth, etc. I’m quite sure everyone in that study got the point that the Christian life is to be lived in community with other believers.After the study, Gary came up to talk. As usual, he had a question for me: “You made a big deal today about being faithful in community, right?” “Yes,” I said. “You were really emphasizing the importance of living our faith in relationship with other believers, right?” “Yes,” I repeated. “Well, I don’t understand why you were hammering away on that point. How else are we going to live our faith, other than in community? How else are we going to grow and serve, other than in relationship with others? Isn’t that pretty obvious?”
In that moment, I was struck by the fact that Gary was approaching Christian faith, not from the assumptions of American individualistic culture, but from his lifelong experience as a faithful Jew. Jewish people, especially in Gary’s Orthodox tradition, worship, study, grow, eat, rest, play, serve, marry, bury, celebrate, fast, dance, and live in community. That’s just how they do these things—intuitively, consistently, and essentially. They understand, based on their deep knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures, that God calls us into community and as a community. We are God’s people, not as isolated individuals, but as members of the people of God, as brothers and sisters in the family of God.
I share this story of Gary with you because it is relevant to how we think about and experience flourishing. To the extent that we view life through the individualistic lens of American culture, we might tend to envision flourishing as mainly an individual experience. When we read in Psalm 92:12 that “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,” we might think of a solitary tree. Indeed, the word “righteous” in the Hebrew of this verse is a singular noun.But the next verses move seamlessly into the plural. They could be translated literally as in the NRSV, “They are planted in the house of the LORD; they flourish in the courts of our God. In old age they still produce fruit; they are always green and full of sap” (92:13-14, emphasis added). Flourishing is something that happens, not just to individuals, but to the community of God’s people.
This truth is reflected in one of the prophecies of Hosea. In Hosea 14, God, speaking through Hosea, promised to heal the disloyalty of Israel and to love Israel freely (14:4). As Israel grows, the nation will be fruitful (14:6). But then the flourishing of the singular nation is expressed with plural language: “They shall again live beneath my shadow, they shall flourish as a garden; they shall blossom like the vine, their fragrance shall be like the wine of Lebanon” (14:7).
I realize that some readers of this devotion might respond to what I’m saying here much as Gary once responded to my Bible study. “Of course, flourishing happens in community! How else could it be?” Unfortunately, many of us might naturally assume that flourishing is mainly about what we do as solitary “trees.” We say to ourselves, “I need to have my roots grow down deeply into God. I need to be in a right relationship with God.” Both of these statements are true, of course. But it’s also true that we won’t experience the fullness of spiritual growth by ourselves. And being righteous isn’t only a matter of our relationship with God. It’s being in a right relationship with God and people.
So, though flourishing certainly has to do with how we live our individual lives, it is also a result of living rightly in community with others. We will flourish when we share life with our sisters and brothers in Christ, when we receive their support, wisdom, and prayer. We need others to teach us, challenge us, and hold us accountable. And they need us to do the same for them. Only when we share life together as the people of God will we experience the flourishing offered to us in Christ.
Reflect
To what extent do you think of the Christian life as something experienced in community?
Who are the people in your community who help you to flourish?
Act
Reach out to at least one member of your “flourishing community” and talk about how your relationship helps you both to flourish. Think about whether there are other things you might do to enrich your relationship.
Pray
Gracious God, thank you for making it possible for us to have an intimate, personal relationship with you. Thank you for calling us to have our roots grow deeply into you. Help me, I pray, as I seek to grow more in my own faith.But, dear Lord, help me also to understand that you have made me for community with others. I will know you better, and I will flourish in this life when I live it deeply and truly in community. May this be true of my life.I give you thanks for the people who share life and faith with me, and who help me to flourish in you. May our relationships be stronger and deeper in the future. Show me what I can do to help this happen. Amen.
Our work in India marches to a daily drumbeat of bringing whole life to the community. This special emphasis is to walk alongside those who are struggling with cancer. Food, medicine, prayer, and relationship….all add up to bringing life to those in need. I am so thankful for this good work that began 20 years ago. Pray for Titus and all those who lead the way.
Blessed for all 7 of us to trek to Spokane today to cheer on 3 special athletes from Federal Way. Maya, King, and Abby crushed it today – with Abby setting a new record for Federal Way. There is nothing better than being with 4000 athletes and fans cheering each other on. On the really hard weeks, like this one, I imagine this is the sound of heaven.
It is officially moss growing season in the pnw. The fog – the rain – the mist – the draft of warmth and crispy cool – and the bark on the trees comes alive with Seahawks green. While daylight is sparse and darkness lingers longer, it is a season to reflect more deeply on burdens. This note found me when I needed it this week……
Some of us are tired not because we are disobeying God, but because we are obeying burdens God never gave us. God does not ask you to do everything, fix everything, or carry everyone. Grace teaches us to release what is not ours and to hold only the cross that leads us to life. It is okay—holy, even—to set down what God never asked you to pick up. God didn’t call you to be a packhorse for every burden.
I have practiced being a packhorse for a very long time. A childhood trait that I have honed into a pattern of life. What if I stop? What if I change? What if……a good question to ask in this season of life.
Dad spent a whole lot of time in the hospital recently and truth be told he is lucky to be alive. A whole bunch of internal bleeding with procedures to stop it along with 11 pints of blood were given. He is rehabbing at home and the VA is working to adapt some things in his house to make the recovery a bit easier. Today he got out for a follow-up appointment. The best thing was the good breakfast. Yum.
Johnson 2025 Sabbatical 