For most of our married life, when one of us leaves the house, the other stands at the door and waves until the car disappears from view. It’s nothing extravagant — but it’s intentional. A small gesture that says, “I see you. I’m with you.”

Recently, as I stood at the door watching my husband drive away, the Holy Spirit nudged my heart with this thought: strong relationships are built in the ordinary. Not in grand gestures, but in the faithful, repeated rhythms of love. The same is true of our relationship with God.

In Acts 1:4 NLT, we read, “Once when He was eating with them, He commanded them, ‘Do not leave Jerusalem until the Father sends you the gift He promised, as I told you before.’”

Jesus is giving the disciples His final instructions before ascending to heaven — arguably one of the most important moments in their entire ministry. He tells them to wait in Jerusalem until they receive the Holy Spirit, the promised Helper who would empower them for the road ahead.

But what struck me was the detail tucked quietly at the beginning of the verse: “Once when He was eating with them…”

Jesus chose to deliver this life-altering command over an ordinary meal.

He could have chosen a grand stage or a final miracle to mark the moment — but He didn’t. He sat and ate with them. That phrase, “when He was eating with them,” reminded me how often Jesus used ordinary moments to deliver extraordinary truths.

In Jewish culture, to share a meal was to share life. It signified belonging, intimacy, trust. Meals weren’t rushed; they were relational. So, when Jesus gave this final instruction over a meal, He wasn’t just handing out a task — He was anchoring His words in relationship. He was saying, in essence, “You are still mine. And I am still with you.”

Before Jesus sent them out with purpose, He sat with them in presence.

That’s who He is.

We often think of God speaking through burning bushes or parting seas — and, yes, He can — but so often He meets us at the table. In the slow. In the simple. In the sacred rhythm of ordinary life.

Every week, my husband and I host a small group in our home. We eat around a big round table and share both food and our lives. We pass the salad and the stories of our week. And somewhere in the laughter, vulnerability, and shared space, we encounter God. Not always through a sermon or a spiritual breakthrough — but in the honest, Spirit-filled conversations that unfold over a meal.

This practice is not new. It’s biblical.

God met Abraham under the shade of a tree, and Sarah received a promise in the context of hospitality (Genesis 18). Moses and the elders saw God and ate and drank in His presence (Exodus 24:11). Jesus revealed Himself to two disciples on the road to Emmaus as He broke bread (Luke 24). Jesus restored Peter with breakfast by the sea (John 21).

Again and again, God shows us: the table is holy ground.

It reminds me of Revelation 3:20 NLT, where Jesus says, “Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.”

Even after His resurrection and ascension, His posture hasn’t changed. He still draws near with kindness. He still knocks, still waits, still longs to be with us. Not just to teach us — but to be with us. To sit with us. To share the meal and the moment. That’s how close He wants to be.

Acts 1:4 reminds me that Kingdom instructions often come in common places. That Jesus, in all His majesty, still chooses the intimacy of a shared meal to reveal His heart.

Don’t miss Him in the everyday, friend. Listen for God’s voice in the ordinary. The way someone lingers a little longer to check on you. The nudge to reach out. The quiet whisper during prayer. The moment your child makes you laugh, or a song moves your heart unexpectedly.

He’s not far away. He’s right here.