Place a slab of wood on four posts and drop it in the middle of some folks, and you’ve got a foundation for a phenomenon.
When people gather around a table, astonishing things happen. In my fifty plus years of life, I’ve seen hearts healed, bodies nourished, and colossal decisions made with people in chairs and a slab of wood (or metal or glass or Formica) in front of them.
There’s something about a table that levels playing fields. You can’t find this mystical connection when you’re sitting eye-to-eye on sofas, at desks, around a TV, on stools at a bar, or in long, formal church pews. It’s the frontal expanse of a solid material that initiates equal opportunity for everyone’s elbows. It’s the flat space that cries for a plate or glass that puts hearts at ease. We think better with elbows on the table. We listen better with a glass nearby.
Many important events have happened at a table. The first one that comes to mind is the Last Supper. Reclining, Jesus reveals what’s next in world-changing events and instructs twelve men how to move forward. A table, albeit a short one, sat in the middle of that big reveal. Remember Obama’s beer on the white house lawn? A white garden table attended. And who can forget King Author’s knights gathered at a round table?
The best of life happens around the table.