Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. (John 8:32)
When I’m asked to decorate and hostess a table for a women’s dinner at church, an event that will bring many ladies from the community, I’m delighted. My head spins with ideas. I’ll create a book-themed table.
There will be candles and flowers and volumes of wonderful, old classics. I’ll use my typewriter bookends. I’ll make placemats and flowers from the pages of old novels. A friend agrees to help, and my heart is full.
But not full enough.
Because mid-way through the preparation, fear moves in.
What if the doors open and women flood the room and no one sits at my table?
I try to push these thoughts away. There’s no way that will happen. But the worry comes anyway. Soon I’m toting feelings that in no way should be mine to hold. Rejection. Embarrassment. Defeat.
Negative thinking is a battle I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever win.
The night before the dinner, my friend and I sit around my dining room table making preparations. The hour is late and conversation is light. I’m excited about this opportunity, and while we fold rose petals from time-worn pages, the insecurity is at bay.
Until the next night as I stand by my table.
Until the doors open to let the guests in.
Lord, I pray, I’m afraid.
And before I can unravel further, the reply comes–gentle but firm. It’s a knowledge, a knowing, that is salve to my spirit. It’s a whisper to my heart’s hidden place.
“You can stand on promise, or you can listen to lies.”
Simple. Easy. Honest. True.
I know that when I became a follower of Jesus, I secured an enemy, too. I understand from the Word that this enemy is a deceiver, accuser of the brethren, the father of lies. I believe that he knows where my soft spots are. And this is where he aims his fiery darts.
He cannot take my heart from Jesus, but he’ll try to make me afraid.
After all, he’s stealthy, like a lion prowling, waiting to devour. And when he attacks, it will be with weapons tailor-made for my tenderness.
“I choose to stand on promise,” I whisper, as I stand by my table, so no one will hear.
Like Jesus in the desert, I’ll stand strong with the weapon of the Word.
I glance at my table and at the other women, my friends, standing beside their tables, too. And for just a second, the familiar wave of fear comes again. What if no one sits down, and I stand alone?
That is a lie.
The Lord told me to fear not, He’ll be with me wherever I go.
What if my chairs are empty?
The Lord will still be with me because He promised He’d never leave.
The doors open, the women come in, and in my heart, truth has won.
Suddenly I am free.
Free to enjoy myself. Free to focus on others. Free to move through the evening, uninhibited, in the sweet, abundant joy of the Lord.
My friend joins me, and together she and I greet a group of beautiful women. They comment on the candles. They admire the wonderful, old books.
And they take seats.
Around my table.
Sometimes the even the most pleasurable things can become a battleground if we allow it. But I’m learning that there’s often a choice to be made.
And I will choose truth.
