Take Your Seat at the Table

Several years ago, I had a dream that still sits with me like a holy whisper. In it, I was at a table, seated next to the host. I was a guest of honor. A seat reserved just for me.

But as I sat there, I became painfully aware of the eyes around me—staring, judging, questioning. I could feel it in my spirit: they didn’t want me there. The discomfort was so strong that I moved. I got up from the place of honor and chose a seat that made me smaller, more invisible, less offensive.

Then, a woman approached me—gentle but firm—and said, “Go back and take your place next to my son. He wants you next to Him. It doesn’t matter what people think or feel about you. What matters is that He wants you there.”

That moment wasn’t just a dream. It was a message. A divine invitation.God was teaching me to take up space.

You see, for too long, I had allowed other people’s opinions, perceptions, and unspoken expectations to define me. I had learned to play small—to shrink my light, dilute my voice, and defer my value—just to keep others comfortable. I feared being “too much” or “not enough,” and so I hid. But God wasn’t having that anymore.

In that season, He began to teach me what it meant to reclaim my voice and worth. To stop apologizing for the glory He placed in me. To stand tall in the spiritual inheritance I have in Christ Jesus.

It was not an easy road. I had to wrestle with shame. I had to confront guilt and disappointment. I had to unmask fear and look rejection in the face. I had to acknowledge the ways I buried my talents—my gifts, my heart, my story—because I was afraid. Afraid that if I shined too brightly, the enemy would notice and come steal from me again. That the cost of visibility would be too high.

But God.

He began waking me up in the quiet hours of the morning—3:30 a.m.—leading me to scriptures that spoke life, truth, and healing. He brought me to my journal, where tears would often blur the ink. He walked me through moments of deep surrender, where all I could do was declare His promises over my pain. And with each encounter, something shifted.

A new version of me would emerge—stronger, softer, freer.

It wasn’t always visible, but I could feel it: God was trading my ashes for beauty. Just like He promised.

“To bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,the oil of joy instead of mourning,and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair…”—Isaiah 61:3

So if you’re reading this today and you’ve ever felt like you didn’t belong at the table...If you’ve ever given up your seat because you felt unworthy, uncomfortable, or unseen...If you’ve ever played small to comfort those who preferred the dimmer version of you...

I want to gently, yet boldly, echo what that woman said in my dream: Go back and take your place. He wants you next to Him.

Not because you’ve earned it. Not because you’re flawless. But because you’re His.

There’s a seat at the table with your name on it. And it’s time—past time—to take it.