Many of us genuinely desire the life God promises—joy, depth, peace, belonging. But we often want those gifts without letting God rearrange anything in our schedules, priorities, or habits. We want the feast without changing our plans.

In the 1400s, the city of Florence set out to complete the massive dome of its cathedral. Everyone loved the idea of a grand architectural achievement, but the traditional methods couldn’t make it happen. Building a dome of that size required scaffolding they didn’t have and techniques that no longer worked. Then Filippo Brunelleschi proposed a radical new approach—an innovative double-shell structure built without scaffolding. The problem became obvious: the old ways were familiar, but they could not produce the beauty the city longed for. The tension lay in their admiration for the dream yet resistance to the disruption it required. The dome only rose when they accepted the new design and allowed their routines to be reordered. The solution demanded more than approval; it demanded real change.

Jesus names this same pattern in Luke 14. The invitations go out to a great banquet, and everyone likes the idea of attending—but not enough to adjust their plans. One needs to inspect land, another to test oxen, another to honor social obligations. All of these are reasonable. But Jesus reveals that these “reasonable” commitments have more authority over them than the invitation of God. They want the banquet on their terms, without interference to their schedules.

The host doesn’t chastise them; he simply fills the feast with those willing to come. The issue isn’t desire—it’s availability. The kingdom opens to people who allow God to interrupt them, who let grace rearrange the order of things.

Jesus tells this story not to shame us but to free us from the illusion that spiritual life can grow without realignment. The feast is ready. The life we want in God is prepared. What stands in the way is usually not hatred or rebellion, but the quiet refusal to let God touch our calendar, our habits, our assumptions.

We don’t earn our place at the table. We simply stop clinging to the excuses that keep us from stepping inside. Christ invites us into a joy large enough to reshape us from the inside out. The table is set. Will we let His invitation change the way we live?