Love’s Table Has No Shortage of Chairs

We’ve all considered this lie at some point—that love is limited. It’s like a pie, divided thinner and thinner with every new person who steps into the circle. We fear there won’t be enough left for us, or that someone else’s presence might push us aside.

But Father shows us something altogether different: love’s table never runs out of chairs.

Love Expands When Shared

Paul prayed that we might grasp “how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ” (Eph. 3:18–19). That is not a love that shrinks when it’s shared. It’s a love that multiplies, overflows, and never runs dry.

C.S. Lewis said in The Four Loves, “Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives.” Real love doesn’t crack under weight—it strengthens, it endures, it makes room.

George MacDonald painted it this way: “The love of God is broad like beach and meadow, wide as the air, and richer than the sunlight.” A love that is boundless cannot be hemmed in. It spills, it welcomes, it overflows.

The Scarcity Lie

Fear feeds on the misbelief that love is scarce—that if affection or attention is given to one, another must lose. But the gospel tells a different story.

Jesus said, “In my Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2). Abundance, not exclusivity, defines His kingdom.

God’s heart holds infinite rooms, infinite places prepared for us.

Paul echoes it: we’ve been “grafted in” (Rom. 11:17). No branch displaces another; the tree only grows stronger, fuller, more alive with each new shoot.

When Love Stretches

It’s easy to imagine the feast when the table is full of laughter. It’s harder when someone there has wounded us. I know that stretch. Keeping a chair open after betrayal can feel impossible. But here’s what I’ve learned: love’s abundance is not proven in ease, but in forgiveness.

The same Christ who promised many rooms also knelt to wash Judas’ feet. Love doesn’t cancel the difficult chairs—it includes them. And in doing so, it changes us.

Love Doesn’t Erase, It Includes

Here is the Father’s secret: love doesn’t erase anyone; it includes them. Inclusion is not replacement. Each person reflects a unique reflection of God’s image, bringing a distinct gift to the circle of our lives.

The table lengthens. The chairs appear. No one is diminished when another joins.

We sometimes struggle when new bonds form; it can feel like a threat. But we have been shown the truth, real love expands. When we love more, we do not love others less. Just as a mother’s love doesn’t shrink when her second child is born, so our capacity to love keeps enlarging.

Thomas Merton put it simply: “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone—we find it with another.” Every new bond is not a competition, but a completion.

Love Creates Space

MacDonald also wrote, “The love of God is the creating and redeeming energy of the universe.” Creation itself is love making space; an act of inclusion. God stretched the universe vast enough to call us into His fellowship. If His love can include us at such cost, ours can stretch too.

An Invitation to the Table

Perhaps you’ve felt it—that tug of fear when someone else comes close, and you wonder if your seat will hold. Hear this truth: in Christ, your place can never be erased. Your chair is secure.

So let us live this way, making room, trusting that every act of inclusion echoes the heart of God.

The table is growing. The feast is still being set. The family of God is still arriving. And every time love stretches to include another, the table shines brighter with the reflection of the Father’s heart.

For love’s table has no shortage of chairs.