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A moment to pause, breathe, and remember that grace often shows up in the simplest parts of our day. This is faith woven into real life — not another sermon, just an honest conversation between friends. Let's find the joy together.
Marlena: Right before someone comes
over, most of us do the same thing.
We scan the room and say, "Let me
go just clear this off real quick."
We go tidying up before anyone
sees your perceived clutter.
And I wanna challenge that instinct today
because I don't think the cleanest room
you own has ever made anyone feel invited.
I think it's the honest, lived-in
space that left the best impression,
the one with your treasures in it,
the item you got while you were
traveling, the knick-knack, the candle,
the bowl, the throw that doesn't
match because it's the comfiest.
These are the ones nobody
should apologize for.
And today, we're gonna see this come
to life through a few experiences
I've had at a vending machine, and
then in a parable Jesus told about a
banquet that nobody showed up to, and
simply at my dad's desk from the '80s.
Stick with me.
It'll make sense.
So let's get into it.
Welcome to Living Simply Redeemed: Finding
Joy with Marlena, a moment to pause,
breathe, and remember that grace often
shows up in the simplest parts of our day.
This is faith woven into real life.
Not another sermon, just an honest
conversation between friends.
Let's find joy together.
So here's where this started.
I was standing in the break room at
work getting a coffee in the morning.
That's an essential part of the day.
And I watched a man restocking the
vending machine and the market fridge.
But he wasn't just adding things.
He was pulling things out too.
Some salads.
They still looked fine to me.
Had some boiled eggs, tomatoes, carrots.
And I asked him what happens to those,
you know, when he pulls them out.
And he said some of it, if it's
still in a safe window, gets donated.
The rest just gets thrown out.
And that sat with me longer than
I expected because think about
how much went into that food.
The time, money, planning.
Somebody picked it and then prepped it,
packaged it and shipped it and stocked it.
And if it's not eaten in time, all
of that just doesn't matter anymore.
It can't nourish anybody.
And here's what gets interesting.
I started thinking about our churches,
our ministries, our own lives.
We prepare the sermon, we set the Bible
study, we set up the smalls-- small group.
We set up the small group, the
prayer gathering, the devotionals.
The Word is ready.
The nutrients are there.
But there's a season to it.
And what happens when people
just don't come to eat?
I want to speak to two different people
for a moment because I think both
of you might be listening right now.
First, if you're the one who sits
at a table week after week, you're
in the congregation or the reader or
the one the Word keeps reaching, but
you just took some good notes and
tucked them away until next Sunday.
I want to say this gently.
Not every message is meant
to be stored for later.
Some words are meant to be
eaten and acted upon right now.
We assume the Word will still
be there when life slows down.
We assume the invitation will wait.
But delay can turn
nourishment into neglect.
Scripture says, "Don't merely
listen to the Word and deceive
yourselves, do what it says."
So if God has spoken to you through
a sermon, a conversation, a nudge,
or a phone call and you almost
didn't answer, I want you to ask
yourself, what are you waiting for?
The Word was never short on power.
Sometimes it's just short
on your response to it.
And second, if you're the one preparing
the table, the pastor, the teacher,
the mom setting the tone in your own
home, the friend who keeps reaching
out, I want you to hear this too.
You are not foolish for preparing a full
table even when only a few people show up.
Jesus understood this more than anyone.
He told this exact story in Luke chapter
fourteen where a man prepares a great
feast, invites everybody, and when
it's time, people start making excuses.
One's got land to check on.
He's got business.
One's got family obligations.
None of this is sinful.
It's just prioritized Over the invitation
. So the Master, our Lord, says this next:
"Go out into the streets and in the
alleys and bring in whomever will come."
So listen to that.
The banquet did not get canceled.
It didn't even change.
The audience just expands to
reach whoever is already ready.
And here's the truth underneath all of it.
For both the ones who didn't come
yet and the ones still setting the
table, food that isn't eaten in time
can still become unsafe, period.
A word not received in season can become
a missed opportunity, but it's not wasted.
It's just expired for that moment.
God does not force anyone to sit
down, but He's still inviting,
still calling, still setting tables.
And if the ones you expected
don't come, someone else will.
The Word will not return void.
Okay, so that's thread one.
Hold on to it.
Hold on to it.
Because thread two starts
somewhere completely different.
It starts with my dad's desk.
I texted my sister about this one
recently because I wanted to see if
she had a pic of my dad at his desk.
It was always quite cluttered, but
the entire room was quite a gem.
This was back in the eighties, so,
he worked from home, and he ran a
pretty traditional signage company:
print work, retail, restaurant,
and shop designs and signage.
The kind of stuff you'd
actually see installed.
Monument signs outside of a shopping
center, painted lettering on a storefront
window, and his workspace looked
exactly like what kind of work produces.
He had a dark room for photography,
a table for cutting vinyl and
applying that, that would end up on
somebody's window or doors and more.
We were around a lot of paint,
screen printing, neon signs, welding.
My goodness.
we had these child craft books, I'd pull
for hands-on crafts and experiments,
and I liked to create things myself,
figure out how something was actually
created and how to draw and illustrate.
It was never a clean space.
It was a working space, and I
didn't know how to appreciate
that until I was much older, until
I started noticing other people
apologize the second that
you walked into their home.
"Please excuse the mess."
And I started doing the
same thing too, honestly.
My sisters do it.
I mean, friends do it.
We all do.
But here's where it
gets interesting again.
What my dad gave us as kids
wasn't clutter, it was permission.
It said, "Come in.
Be curious.
See what's here.
Create something if you want.
Make something out of the leftover
masking tape or this board cylinder."
I didn't recognize it as a gift
until I looked back at my own desk
one day and realized I have the
exact same thing going on right now.
I have a small tea cup of coins, jars
of pens and markers, a large vase that
I wrapped in kids' stickers on the
outside and filled it up with crayons and
markers for my son and maybe his guests.
A tiny little elephant covered in stones
that I can open up and put things in.
Little wooden boxes ornate on the
outside, small treasures on the inside.
Maybe my perfume and lipstick
right before I join a call.
The other has batteries for the remote
because they have to go somewhere.
I have this rose gold gem
adorned fortune cookie.
they were my mom's, It just doesn't do
anything more except remind me of her.
A little glass mister, emerald green, that
I use to water and mist the plants nearby.
It's structured, it's organized.
Everything has its place, and every
single piece of it means something to me.
It's still a work in progress 'cause
this is the newer home, but I did the
same thing in my last home, and I did
it on purpose knowing that, with my
kiddos, I had a whole gallery wall
of photographed memories from my life
and art that I loved, a little frame
TV that would display art when it
wasn't being used for something else.
Two desks, one for work and one just
for projects, a rug that I loved,
some file cabinets that the kids
could actually sit on, a cushy chair
by the window with a throw on it
that basically said, "Come, sit."
And I'd turn around some afternoons
and find my son had pulled a coloring
book off the shelf and was just
coloring right there on the floor,
and my daughter was curled up in
a corner with some tea and a book.
Nobody asked permission.
Nobody had to.
That was the whole point.
So here's where those two threads
actually meet, and this is the
part that I don't want you to miss.
On one hand, the banquet in the
Book of Luke fourteen isn't canceled
when the invited guests don't show.
It just gets wider.
Somebody somewhere gets
to come in and eat.
And whether you're the one who
almost let the invitation pass
you by or the one who's tired of
preparing a table that stays half
empty, the same truth holds here.
The word is not wasted.
The table is not wasted.
It is still doing its
work even in the waiting.
And on the other hand, when I think
about our homes, our desks, our cars,
our kitchen islands, whatever your
version of that cluttered, meaningful
space is, those are banquets too.
Small ones.
Everyday ones.
The invitation isn't in
making them spotless.
It's in leaving them honest enough that
somebody else feels like they're allowed
to walk in, sit down, and be curious.
My dad invited that curiosity
without ever saying a word about it.
He just let the space be what it is.
So back where we started, that
instinct to clear everything
off before somebody comes over.
I'm not telling you to
stop cleaning your house.
That's not the point.
I'm telling you, again, the
cleanest room you own has probably
never made anyone feel invited.
It's the one with the special
treats and the book and the
pillow that has a story behind it.
The stickers and the pen you
picked up at the booth where you
met another family and connected.
A postcard or a magazine on a table
that you picked up on your last vacation
that just reminds you of the ocean
waves there or the fried green tomatoes.
That's the table Jesus was talking about.
It just doesn't look like a banquet hall.
It looks like your desk.
And if you're the one who's been putting
off a word you know you were supposed
to act on, this is your invitation
to stop waiting for a better time.
And if you're the one who's been
setting the table for people who
haven't come yet, don't stop setting it.
Widen it if you have to.
Somebody's coming.
And so this is what you have
to actually do this week.
Look around, whatever your space
is, even if it's your kitchen
counter or your shopping cart.
Instead of apologizing for what's there,
ask yourself what it says.
What does it invite somebody into?
And the next time somebody's standing
in your doorway, let them see it.
Because somebody out there, somebody has
been waiting for a table that doesn't
require them to be tidy to sit down at it.
And that's the episode.
I'll see you next time