During the Last Supper, Jesus identifies the betrayer by giving him a piece of bread. “So when He had dipped the piece of bread, He gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot.” John 13:26 In the culture of that time, for the host to dip the bread and personally hand it to someone was a gesture of honour and friendship. It was not an act of exposure or rejection it was actually an act of intimate fellowship. So in that moment Judas is sitting at the table. Judas is receiving honour from the hand of Jesus. Judas is close enough for Jesus to hand him the bread. Yet the very next line says: “Then after the piece of bread, Satan entered into him.” John 13:27 It is one of the most chilling contrasts in Scripture. Judas was close enough to receive the bread, but his heart had already chosen another master. And then John adds one more haunting detail “So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.” John 13:30 He left the table of light and walked into the darkness. John describes where the disciples were sitting “One of His disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining at Jesus’ side.” John 13:23 This disciple is traditionally understood to be John the Apostle. He was close enough to lean back against Jesus and quietly ask Him a question. But the way the conversation unfolds strongly suggests that Judas Iscariot was sitting on the other side of Jesus, within arm’s reach. That is why Jesus could simply dip the bread and hand it directly to him. In other words John was close enough to lean on Jesus. Judas was close enough to receive bread from Jesus’ hand. Two men sat within the same intimate circle of the Lord. One leaned into Him in love. The other walked out into the night. The table revealed their hearts. It is not merely about who is present at the table, but about who has truly surrendered their heart to the King Many will sit at the table, but only those who love the King more than the seat will remain. Not everyone seated at the table belongs to the King

The Table of the Lord Judas had a seat at the table, yet his heart did not truly belong to Jesus. He walked with Him, listened to His teaching, and shared in the honour of being numbered among the twelve. Yet he loved what proximity to Jesus gave him more than he loved Jesus Himself. There are some who sit at the Lord’s table in the same way. They enjoy the honour. They enjoy the influence. They enjoy the position. But their hearts remain far from Him. The Lord is reminding His church that a seat at His table is not merely a place of privilege it is a place of surrender. Jesus said in the parable of the wedding banquet: “And he sent his servants to call those who had previously been invited to the wedding feast, but they refused to come.” Matthew 22:3 All are invited to the table, yet not all who accept the invitation truly belong there. When the call comes to rise, to serve, to lay down their lives, some are still calculating what they will receive rather than what they will give. A seat at the Lord’s table requires humility. It requires submission. It requires a surrendered heart that is willing to obey whatever He asks. Jesus warned about those who seek honour at the table: “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down at the place of honour” Luke 14:8 The kingdom is not for those who grasp for position but for those who bow low in surrender. “For many are called (invited, summoned), but few are chosen.” Matthew 22:14 The Lord has extended His invitation to many, but remaining at His table requires a heart that loves Him above honour, influence, and power. Those who seek the highest seat will be exposed. But those who come low, with surrendered hearts, will find that the Master Himself welcomes them to remain. Not everyone who sits at the table will stay. But those who truly love the King will never need to fight for a seat. Many will sit at the table, but only those who love the King more than the seat will remain. Not everyone seated at the table belongs to the King

The Unseen Grief of Job’s Wife In the story recorded in the Book of Job, Job’s wife appears only briefly, yet her presence reveals a deep and often overlooked dimension of suffering. After the loss of their children, their wealth, their home, and finally Job’s health, she speaks the words recorded in Job 2:9–10: “Curse God and die.” For generations, her statement has been interpreted as foolishness or faithlessness. She is often remembered only for this moment. Yet when we pause and consider the weight she carried, another perspective emerges. This woman had just buried her children. She had watched her home collapse into ruin. Everything familiar and secure had vanished. Now she stood helplessly beside her husband as he sat covered in sores, scraping his skin with broken pottery. Her words may not have come from rebellion, but from unbearable grief. Sometimes deep pain speaks before faith can find its voice. Job’s response in Job 2:10 calls him to remain steadfast in trusting God through suffering, and the narrative rightly highlights his faith. Yet the story also quietly reminds us that suffering rarely touches only one life. Job was not the only one enduring loss. His wife was living through the same tragedy, carrying the same empty spaces in her heart. Though Scripture does not record her restoration in detail, we know the character of God. The Lord who restored Job’s future did not overlook the woman who walked through loss beside him. The God revealed throughout Scripture is not one who heals one life while ignoring another. Being unnamed does not mean being unseen. Job’s wife lived through devastating loss, faith tension, and misunderstanding, yet she remained within the reach of God’s mercy. Restoration did not erase her grief, but it testified that suffering did not have the final word. Perhaps her brief appearance in Scripture speaks to many whose stories feel hidden or reduced to a single moment. If you have ever felt overlooked, forgotten, or remembered only for your weakest words, take heart: God sees you fully. He redeems gently and restores faithfully.

You are the Shepherd of my soul. You bind up my wounds when I have been hurt by the dangers I have faced. When I cannot walk, You carry me around Your neck, close to Your heart. You clean up all my messiness, making me clean in Your sight. You do not prod or poke; You gently lead me to the places I need to go. You fight my battles when I am too weak to stand, keeping me safe close to Your heart. When You hold me I feel the beat of Your heart, safe from all harm, protected in the arms of love. You pen me in, not to take away my freedom, but to provide protection. When I run, You fight to bring me back. You provide everything I need. My Shepherd holds my heart in His hands, safe and secure. When I thirst, You lead me to still waters, watching my every step until You guide me safely home again. Who is there besides You? What do I have if I do not have You? You are all I need my shelter, the love that draws near, not the love that pushes me away. And when my time is done, You will take me home to peace and freedom, to dwell with You forever. Because the Shepherd holds me close to His heart, nothing in heaven or earth can steal me from His hands.

My son loves plants and flowers. Months ago he planted a desert rose in our yard. For a long time it was nothing to look at. To me it simply looked like a scraggly green vine with leaves, almost like a weed growing along the fence. There was nothing remarkable about it, nothing that suggested what it would one day become. Then the rains came. Slowly the vine began to change. What once looked ordinary and overlooked began to stretch and climb. Now it is alive with colour. Beautiful blooms have appeared everywhere. The vine that once looked like a weed now covers the shed and the back wall of the house with flowers. It reminds me of the promise in Isaiah 35:1–2: “The wilderness and the wasteland shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose; it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice, even with joy and singing.” Isaiah spoke of a time when God would transform what was barren and desolate. Places that seemed dry, forgotten, and lifeless would suddenly burst into beauty and abundance. Springs would break out in the desert and life would flourish where there had once been only dust. Isn’t that just like God? He takes what appears small, unnoticed, and insignificant and calls it into something more. What looks dry and lifeless to human eyes becomes beautiful when touched by His hand. With His care and the rain of His Spirit, barren places begin to bloom. Sometimes in life we look at situations, seasons, or even parts of our own hearts and think they look like nothing much. Scraggly. Unremarkable. Perhaps even a little like a weed. But the Father sees something different. With His love, His patience, and the rain of His Spirit, what once seemed dry begins to come alive. What looked ordinary becomes a display of beauty. What seemed barren becomes a place of abundance. In the hands of God, the desert can still bloom.