Reading
They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.
Acts 2:42
Reflection
“Max ate his dinner at the table with his sis, but once she went to bed, he asked for the chef’s table experience, and noshed on some bell pepper, chicken, cheese, grapes, tomatoes, breads… The Table is a powerful part of faith and family. I understood that before, but did so differently tonight… Food is a powerful conduit of faith. It is a marker of covenant, and I love, love, love this season of fatherhood… This kid, y’all.”
Those weren’t my notes as I sat reflecting on Pastor Brandon’s message this past Sunday evening with the kids. Those words are nearly a decade old.
My notes from Sunday were simpler:
“Breaking bread = Top 4”
Over the weekend, I found myself scrolling through years of photos on my phone — tables I’ve eaten at over the years. Some were set with care and precision. Some were just countertops with snacks. Some had no plates at all.
It’s funny how faith takes shape over time. Even then, when I certainly didn’t have much figured out, I was trying to name something sacred: That the table matters. That meals are more than calories and convenience. That food is covenant.
Tables are what hold us together, and they keep us from falling apart.
Jesus didn’t just feed people to meet a need.
He fed them to connect — with God, with each other, with themselves. It’s no coincidence that some of the clearest images we have of Jesus in Scripture involve a table, bread, and someone who didn’t think they belonged.
So as I write these words — ones I hope future Michael will return to — I wonder if you might write some for yourself, too.
The early church didn’t care about polish.
They cared about presence.
Everyday discipleship — looking to Jesus to become more like Jesus — is about creating space for connection. Divine to human. Human to human. At the table where there’s more than the food that’s shared.
We don’t remember meals only for the food. We remember how they felt. They are an experiential reflection of a divine truth:
We’re not just welcomed —
There is already room for us.
There’s always enough.
We’re never alone.
Prayer
Jesus,
Thank you for what lingers when our meals are done.
Thank you for slow breaths after our final bites,
And for the grace that stays in the silence.
Teach us to sit and be present,
To share what we have.
Give us this day our daily bread —
Enough to carry us through,
And enough to share.
AMEN.
