Room at the Table | Reflections on being a Woman in Ministry


We’ve been here before, You and I.

My mind swells, self-justification mingles with self-doubt, and my stomach drops as tears prick the corners of my eyes.

I never wanted to be here. This wasn’t a conversation I started. But here I am, and now I can’t stay silent.

I bring both my shame and my bitterness. I bring my fight.

And all I ask that you would just put out the fire in my belly, that You would calm the fight in me that drags me back to this conversation each time. My hope is that You would give me to me the peace of rest and an un-troubled mind. Desensitize me, distract me, disarm me, because this wasn’t my battle and I never meant to get into this fight.

But the only sounds I hear, is the reverberating screech of the chair You’ve pulled out for me, and the pat of Your hand against the seat. All that You’ve done is made room for me at the table. And asked that I stay and talk with You a while.


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