Going Deeper: At The Table

Bulletin Article:

In Luke 10, Jesus tells a story that’s become almost too familiar: the Good Samaritan. We nod along, already knowing the punchline. But pause for a moment and consider what really happened—this man was on a journey, likely with his own urgent plans. Yet he stops. He sees. He cares. His entire day is interrupted, and his resources are spent on someone he’d been taught to avoid.

Just a few verses later, we meet Martha—another person who opens her home to Jesus. But instead of stopping, she keeps going, busy with preparations. Her sister Mary, meanwhile, chooses to simply be with Jesus. And He says that Mary has chosen the better part.

These stories speak to a truth we often resist: love and hospitality aren’t usually convenient. They require space in our schedules, our hearts, and our minds. And in a culture that rewards hurry, the act of slowing down to see and serve others is profoundly countercultural. Hospitality doesn’t begin with a meal or a clean house. It begins with a posture of attentiveness. It’s about being interruptible—ready to notice a need, to sit with a person, or to welcome God’s presence in an unexpected moment.

This week, pay attention to the “interruptions” that come your way. Instead of seeing them as problems to solve or delays to endure, ask: Could this be a doorway into sacred love? You may find that what seems like a disruption is actually a divine appointment. Let your open door—or your open schedule—become a place where the kingdom of God quietly breaks through.

Bulletin Article:
Did you know that some of Jesus’ most transformative moments happened around a meal? In Luke 7:36–50, Jesus dines with Simon the Pharisee, but it’s not just about sharing food. A woman known for her sinful life enters the scene, weeping at Jesus’ feet and anointing them with perfume. Simon, the host, is offended by her presence, but Jesus sees what Simon does not—this woman’s act of love and repentance is an expression of grace.
Jesus’ actions show us that hospitality is about more than offering a meal—it’s about offering dignity, restoring worth, and including the marginalized. In a world that often excludes those who don’t fit the mold, Jesus invites us to use our tables as a place of radical welcome. The table is where grace, healing, and restoration happen, and Jesus calls us to extend that same grace to others.
As you reflect on Jesus’ example, consider how you can offer radical hospitality in your own life. Who might feel excluded from your table, whether literally or figuratively? Take a step this week to invite someone from outside your usual circle—a person who may be marginalized or overlooked. You don’t need to impress them with a fancy meal; just invite them to experience the love and grace of God. By doing this, your table becomes a place of mission where lives can be transformed.

Bulletin Article:
In Luke 14, Jesus attends a dinner party—but as usual, He’s not content to simply pass the bread. He watches as guests angle for the best seats, and then offers a surprising teaching: “Take the lowest place.” His words cut through the pride and posturing, calling us into a different kind of table—a kingdom table, where humility is the highest honor and the guest list includes those the world forgets. Then, Jesus turns to the host. His challenge is even more pointed: “Don’t just invite your friends and wealthy neighbors. Invite the poor, the crippled, the outcast.” In other words, throw a party for people who can’t repay you. It’s a radical kind of hospitality that mirrors God’s heart—a banquet of grace, not payback.

Jesus goes on to tell a story about a great feast. The original invitees refuse to come, distracted by their fields and fortunes. So the host sends his servants into the streets to gather anyone who will say yes. And the feast goes on—with a guest list full of misfits and unexpected guests. This is how Jesus reveals the kingdom: not as an exclusive dinner party, but as a feast for the willing. And though He often enters as the guest, He always carries the authority of the true Host—offering welcome, grace, and a seat at the table to all.

In the kingdom of God, we’re not just called to host others; we’re called to be hosted. That means opening our doors and our hearts. It means recognizing our own need for grace, even as we offer it to others. This kind of mutual hospitality is where true transformation happens.

Who is missing from your table? What seat might you need to surrender so someone else can belong? This week, let your table reflect the wideness of God’s welcome. Don’t worry about impressing. Just make space—for others, and for Jesus.

Bulletin Article:
Zacchaeus climbed a tree hoping just to see Jesus. What he didn’t expect was that Jesus would stop, look up, and call him by name. Even more shocking—Jesus invites Himself over for dinner. In a world where meals were reserved for the worthy and well-connected, Jesus flips the script. He shares His presence with someone others had written off.

This is what grace looks like: it sees beyond the reputation, beyond the failure, and beyond the shame. It moves toward people others avoid. And when grace takes root, it grows into something beautiful—generosity.

Zacchaeus doesn’t just say sorry. He changes. He gives. Not because he was pressured to, but because he was loved. That’s what true hospitality does—it transforms. It moves from the table to the heart, and from the heart to action.

In our homes, our churches, and our everyday moments, we have the same opportunity. Hospitality is more than good food and clean floors. It’s a lifestyle of open hands and open hearts—a willingness to welcome others as Jesus has welcomed us.

This week, look around: Who needs to be seen? Who needs to know they matter? Offer your time, your table, your attention. Don’t wait until it’s convenient or impressive—just let it be real. Because when grace is the starting point, generosity naturally follows.