I don't belong here

2 Samuel 9 paints a beautiful picture. It is mentioned more than once that Mephibosheth is crippled in both feet after being dropped as a young boy. I imagine that did not place him very high in social settings. Even though he wasn't worthy (by cultural standards) of sitting at the king's table, the king brought him in anyway.

Carried to the Table
Leeland Mooring

Wounded and forsaken
I was shattered by the fall
Broken and forgotten
Feeling lost and all alone
Summoned by the King
Into the Master’s courts
Lifted by the Savior
And cradled in His arms

I was carried to the table
Seated where I don’t belong
Carried to the table
Swept away by His love
And I don’t see my brokenness anymore
When I’m seated at the table of the Lord
I’m carried to the table
The table of the Lord

Fighting thoughts of fear
And wondering why He called my name
Am I good enough to share this cup
This world has left me lame
Even in my weakness
The Savior called my name
In His Holy presence
I’m healed and unashamed

You carried me, my God
You carried me

Oh how I long to dine at the King's table, if only to be in His presence. I don't belong there. This sinful, broken, rejected woman doesn't deserve to even sit outside the city gates. Yet, he invites me. He welcomes me. He doesn't see all of the things that make me feel unworthy of being there. He sees what he created me for. He sees his purposed for me and the potential he has placed in me to accomplish it. He sees me though the blood of his Son.

And in His presence, all of my imperfections are erased. In His presence I no longer am aware of myself. I am only aware Him and His unexplainable, unending, unconditional love for me. And all is well.