Getting Up from the Little Table

When I was growing up, my grandmother’s tiny rancher in Catonsville was the center of our family life. There were three small bedrooms, one bathroom, no dining room, just a little eat-in kitchen, and a living room that barely held us all. On holidays, that house overflowed with people and noise and food and stories. It didn’t make sense that we all fit… but somehow, we always did.

Because there wasn’t room at the main table for everyone, the kids ate at the little table. A flimsy card table in the living room. Mismatched chairs. Some of us sitting on phone books so we could reach the food. The adults had real china, real glasses, salt and pepper, gravy and rolls. We had paper plates and red Solo cups.

When we were little, the little table felt fun. But as we got older, it started to feel like a downgrade. We were old enough to realize that the real conversation, the real provision, the glorious bowl of mash potatoes, the fullness of the feast—that was happening at the big table.

And yet… even into our 20s and 30s, we were still sitting there.

The house didn’t get any bigger. The only way a seat opened up at the big table was if someone passed away. And they did. First it was Aunt Evelyn. Then Pop-Pop. A few seats opened up… but the strangest thing happened—none of us moved. We had gotten used to the little table.

And that’s the danger, isn’t it?

You can get used to less.
You can get used to settling.
You can get used to living far below what God actually offers.

It’s amazing what the human heart can adapt to. It’s like walking into a dark restaurant; you can’t see at first, but eventually your eyes adjust. And after a while, you don’t even realize how dark it is anymore.

So here’s the sacred question:
Where in my life have I settled for the little table?

Let me give you four honest reasons why we often do:

1. Fear of Disappointment

After enough loss, delay, or heartbreak, many people decide:
“If I expect less, I’ll hurt less.”
So they downsize their dreams.
Minimize their prayers.
Shrink their hope.

But giving in to that fear doesn’t actually protect our hearts from disappointment—it just limits the future.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” (Proverbs 13:12)

When we stop hoping, part of the heart slowly shuts down.

2. Familiarity with Dysfunction

People often choose what’s familiar over what’s healthy.

The children of Israel did this in the wilderness. Even after being delivered from slavery, they began to romanticize Egypt and long for what they used to have.

“We wish the Lord had killed us in Egypt. When we lived there, we could at least sit down and eat all the bread and meat we wanted.”- Exodus 16:3

Slavery with predictability felt safer than freedom with uncertainty.

This was me in my younger years—staying in toxic relationships because that’s all I knew. Not because it was good… but because it was familiar.

3. A Low View of What We’re Worth

When our identity is wounded, we stop asking,
“What did God design me for?”
And we start asking,
“What can I get away with?”

When we don’t truly believe we are valuable, we shrink back from dreaming. We shrink our voice. We shrink our calling. We try to make ourselves more palatable.

Not because opportunity is absent…
but because our self-worth is damaged.

And yet Scripture says:

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God.” (1 John 3:1)

Lavished. Not rationed. Not cautious. Not barely enough.
Lavished with God’s love.

Here’s the last reason we settle for the little table.

4. Spiritual Numbness & Comfort

The longer people sit in dim light, the brighter it feels.
Comfort slowly replaces hunger.
Survival becomes normal.
Complacency sneaks in—disguised as peace.

And without realizing it, we trade abundance for maintenance.

Here’s something to consider:

People never settle because God offers too little.
They settle because something inside has gone quiet.

Psalm 23:5 says:

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

God didn’t prepare a snack on a card table.
He prepared a banquet and invites us to His table.

Through Christ, we are fully adopted sons and daughters with full access to the Father’s table. We are not spiritual step-children. We don’t have to live on crumbs.

And yet, even as mature believers, we sometimes still choose the little table.

We settle in relationships.

We settle in our calling.

We settle for just a mediocre relationship with God.

We settle for spiritual survival instead of abundance.

We say:

I’ll take what I can get.
It is what it is. I guess this is as good as it gets.

But Psalm 23 doesn’t end at the table.

It ends with pursuit.

“Surely Your goodness and unfailing love will follow me all the days of my life.” (Psalm 23:6)

That word “follow” in Hebrew doesn’t mean trail behind.
It means to pursue… to chase… to run after with determination.

The New Living Translation says:

“Surely Your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life.”

God is not standing at a distance hoping you’ll wander back to Him.
He is actively pursuing you: with goodness, with mercy, with his covenant love.

The word “hesed”, which is hard to translate but it is  Loyal. Unbreakable. Determined love.

This is what God is pursuing us with.

Beloved… you are not forgotten at the little table.
You are being pursued toward the feast at the King’s table.

This season as we celebrate the birth of our Savior, let’s remember the greatest way that God has pursued us: He became one of us.

Our Lord and King left the comfort of his heavenly home and came to earth, as a baby born in a manger. And God is still pursuing us! No matter how old we are or how long we’ve been following Jesus, He keeps pursuing us and inviting us to sit at the big table.