As we move from table to table in Luke’s Gospel, my prayer is that you will discover (or re-discover) both a place to sit and a place to share. Jesus invites you to sit with him at the table, and also challenges you to share your table with others as well.

What might that look like? In Luke 22:19, we have Luke’s rendition of what Christians call Eucharist, the Lord’s Supper, or Communion: “And Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.’” The beloved pastor-scholar, Eugene Peterson, who now eternally dines with Jesus, in his book, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places, writes that being blessed, broken, and given is at the heart of the Christian story: “This is the shape of the Eucharist. This is the shape of the Gospel. This is the shape of the Christian life.”

God blessed…  God broke… God gave…

To sit at Jesus’ Table is to understand this shape of the Christian life. God blesses us as created sons and daughters of the High King of Heaven. We are bestowed with dignity and worth. We are loved with an everlasting love. We belong to God and thereby, we belong. (Period.) We are blessed.

And yet, the shape of our story involves brokenness. The Christian narrative reminds us that, despite our blessedness, we turned and went our own way–we left the blessing of God and endeavored to bless ourselves. And our efforts to forge our own blessing–to bestow ourselves with dignity and worth–has left (and still leaves) us broken and feeling as if we don’t belong. But God! God was able and willing to become broken to heal our brokenness. When Jesus broke the bread, he proclaimed: “Take and eat, this is my body given for you.” We are broken, but Jesus’ brokenness on the cross and on our behalf, introduces wholeness.

Then, Jesus took the bread and the wine and gave it to his disciples. This givenness challenges all of the world’s assumptions about buying and selling; around acquiring and consuming. Instead, we are invited into God’s economy of giving and receiving. God gives. We receive. And then, we give…

To fully understand our place at Jesus’ table is to embrace this givenness: To not simply sit with Jesus at his table, but to begin to share the seats around our tables too.

What might keep us from sharing our tables? Perhaps several things. Let’s name a few of them: Busyness, Laziness, Perfectionism, Unworthiness.

Busyness

In a world where the latest technologies remain at our fingertips, it is easy to get too busy. Our phones allow us to work from anywhere all of the time, and we often do just that. We quickly get over-extended by activities which, ironically, cause us to be under-committed to relationships. Then, relationships become scattered, and our meals mere feeding frenzies. We inhale enough fuel to stay at it, while our table gets cluttered with our work and slowly morphs into a desk. Imagine what a less hurried, intentional life of table sharing might look like. Perhaps there is a weekly rhythm of opening your table to others or you schedule a “common table” that regularly moves from house to house in your neighborhood.

Laziness

Often, busyness doubles as laziness. The busiest people can be intentionally unintentional. They end up making time for everything urgent and not for what is most important. To slough off the slothfulness is to draw a line in the sand and say, “This matters to me!” Sharing your table with others should make it onto that list. I encourage you to consider table sharing as a Christian discipline–right up there with reading Scripture and praying! We need to strengthen the bonds in the family of God, and there is nothing better than sharing a meal in the hopes of doing so. Imagine your table as a central fixture of life’s furniture; perhaps one day people will recount impactful conversations that they shared around your table.

Perfectionism

“The house is a mess.” “I am not a very good cook.” “We don’t even have any art.” “What will they think of our little home?” I get it. The Bay Area is full of foodies. We don’t just know our wine, but we know the vintage, the varietal, the cast, and the terroir. We don’t just drink our coffee, but we insist that it be fair trade, organic, shade-grown, vacuum pressed, and single origin. We bake artisan bread from a sourdough starter that has been in the family for four generations. The olive oil was pressed from olives originating from a particular grove of trees in Israel. And yet, let’s fight against the notion that everything needs to be lavish, exquisite–PERFECT! Instead, let us recognize that simple fare compels others toward hospitality around their tables: “Oh, I can do this too!” Table sharing will multiply when we realize how serving imperfectly is beautiful in its own way. Imagine that moment where a friend gains confidence and opens her table, modeling the simple beauty that she enjoyed at yours.

Unworthiness

We are ashamed of ourselves. I sometimes imagine Moses writing these words in Genesis 2: “Adam and Eve were naked, one before the other, and they experienced no shame.” I then picture him, fully clothed, putting down the pen and struggling to imagine what it must have been like to live naked in a shameless world? We hide. We pretend. We do our best to cover it, but the shame never fully recedes. And yet, in Christ, we are set free from shame! We are not only blessed, but doubly blessed, created as beautiful, but after becoming broken, through Christ’s redemption (re-creation) becoming beautiful again. This is our glorious story! A story that you need to share with others around your table.

Have you ever realized that your shame-scars can become salve for the not-yet-healed wounds of others? People just like you, though perhaps a few steps behind in their shared experiences, need to hear what you’ve learned and about how you have healed.  And your healing will no doubt be reinforced, these sacred conversations a further antidote to your unworthiness.

People that need connection, belonging, forgiveness, confidence, healing, encouragement–whatever it might be–well, they might need to hear about how you experienced a similar need and were met by God’s sustenance. You might need to include some “unsavory” people at your table. People just like you! After all, Jesus was accused of being a “glutton and a drunkard,” because he ate with “notorious sinners” (Luke 7:34).

The most missional place in your life might be your table. Perhaps we should all consider inviting people to dinner before we invite them to Jesus or the church. Might our tables be unique spaces in the cosmos “where shame is starved and grace is served.”

Again, I pray you will know you have a place to sit at Jesus’ table and this would then compel you to readily share seats at your table!