I’m Invited to the Table of the Lord: The Lord’s Table & Hospitality

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I have this series about the Lord’s Table on my mind nearly every time I climb onto the elliptical at Planet Fitness. Aside from the elliptical being one of my few dedicated “thinking spots,” there are three songs in particular on my Christian Workout Playlist that draw me back to this topic time and time again. The first song, “The Table,” by Chris Tomlin, popped into my playlist in November of 2022. It was one of the catalysts for me finally launching the series when I did. In particular is the phrase “I’m invited to the table of the Lord.”

The timing of discovering this particular song is was a perfect example of God’s providence governing over the small things in our lives. It was the day before our fourth monthly potluck, part of our ongoing ministry of hospitality. As part of managing the guests we welcome to our home, I hand out (and sometimes even mail out) invitations. These invitations include the words, “You are cordially invited to…”

Our ministry of hospitality (and the book that inspired said ministry) has changed the way I view my own table. Some nights my table is a source of intense conflict and pleas to stubborn children to for the love of sanity eat their vegetables. Sometimes it’s the source of spills and sticky spots from the daily consumption of Honey Nut Cheerios or Rice Krispies. Sometimes it’s cluttered.

But, if I may steal a word from Sally Clarkson, it is LIFEGIVING.

Lifegiving in that it is the source of physical sustenance for our family. But more than that, it is a place where prayers are said, conversations are had, schoolwork is (sometimes) done, art projects are completed, family games are played, and so much more. Every day it is a source of life.

Further, as we have opened our doors and our hearts and invited people in our community, we have been able to share our life with others. We have seen that the people who come to our home are not just hungry for food, but for conversation, fellowship, friendship, and – most of all – acceptance.

At our 5th potluck, our pastor was in attendance. While he and his wife have graced our table on prior occassions (such as our Moravian Lovefeast), this Christmassy brunch was one to which they were specifically invited. He remarked to me that their inclusion was fitting, as his sermon the following day would be discussing hospitality. I had already been in discussion with other staff members about giving a “Living Picture” (a short 5-minute testimony) about our potluck ministry in an upcoming service. So I forwardly asked if I could add my Living Picture to the schedule the following day. He agreed, and I was able to share our potluck experiences with our church congregation for the first time. (In the video below, it takes place at the very beginning.)

He proceeded to deliver his message, of which part was about hospitality. (The part about hospitality starts at the 25 minute mark.) This I had been expecting.

What I was not expecting was that a direct connection that would be made to the Lord’s Table. This sermon took place before I had begun posting this series (although it had been ruminating in my heart for 2 years by that point), so it’s not something our pastor was aware of. But God was.

In those moments (and ever since), I have viewed our hospitality dinners in light of the Lord’s Table; and I have viewed the Lord’s Table in light of our hospitality dinners.

I recently took some time to review the story of the Lord’s “last supper,” as it has come to be known. This is where the ordinance of the Lord’s Table was born.

In our modern churches, I fear we have – perhaps – made the Lord’s Table ordinance too sterile, too sanitized. We have our shiny silver platters and clear glasses that we timidly pass (and try not to drop or spill – at least for the klutzes among us) while the quiet music serenades us into contemplation. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But let us not forget that the Lord’s Table was – at very first – a meal around a table.

If you have been to one of our potlucks, you will know that these events are anything but quiet. This is one of the hardest aspects of it for our family. The noise…the chaos…the buzz of conversation. The max we have had indoors at one of these things is 23 people, and that was…A LOT. But even our smallest groups (whose numbers would be similar to that of Jesus and His twelve disciples) create a bit of noise and buzz.

This meal was probably loud, a bit crowded, maybe even stuffy in an “large upper room” (Mark 14:15) without air conditioning. The men reclined around the table, as was the custom of the time. They got in each other’s personal spaces, with John even leaning “on Jesus’ breast” (John 13:25). They grieved that one among them would betray Jesus. They even contentiously argued with one another about who was the greatest (Luke 22:24). This image is far from the solemn, contemplative scene reenacted in our modern churches.

Luke 22:15 recounts that Jesus said, “With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer.” The Greek words used for “desire” here (epithymía) are the same words often translated as “lust” and “concupiscence.” The root word means “desire, craving, longing, desire for what is forbidden, lust.” This wasn’t a meal that was just thrown together at the last minute. This was planned with the strongest of desire on the part of Jesus to connect with His disciples – and future disciples (us) – before His death.

After the meal, Jesus engaged in an act of the purest of humility when He washed the feet of the disciples.

I want to tread carefully here, because in no way would I presume to equate our hosting of a potluck dinner to the immense cost of Jesus becoming man to bear our sins.

That said, hosting on a monthly basis is an endeavor. Even taking cooking out of the picture, there’s a solid day of work involved (double that if kids are coming) – on the part of all four of us. We take the day off of homeschooling to work as a family to prepare our home to be ready for our guests. Some might say I’m a bit too perfectionistic about my home. I like things to be clean, to smell nice, to look lovely and orderly. (I don’t hide that we live here though, and I don’t worry too much about dusting.)

It is a labor of love. The work plus opening my most personal spaces to people – sometimes LOTS of people – isn’t the easiest thing for me. It leaves me very, very drained – physically, emotionally, socially. But it is a satisfied exhaustion, because I know that this is benefiting not just my family but also those who come. I am so incredibly conviced that this is what Jesus has called our family to do. That makes it worth it.

Our pastor referred to this as well:

I confess I feel incredibly unworthy of these words of praise. I may absorb the cost, but I don’t always absorb it well. I’ve gotten frustrated with my husband he’s invited more people than what was on my color-coded spreadsheet and I’m stressing about where we are going to put everyone. I’ve gotten annoyed when he freaks out about parking – again. I have been less-than-Christlike with my family when jobs were left undone or done incorrectly. I’ve had to put myself in timeout on potluck day to keep my anger and stress levels at bay.

I’ve had to fight my selfish irritation and disappointment when people crowded into one room and stood in the kitchen rather than spreading out and enjoying a third empty room with plenty of seating – a rooms I worked hard to clean and furnish.

In spite of the lectures we have given to our boys that THE MOST IMPORTANT THING about potluck is that our GUESTS have a good time, I’ve had to spend time in bedrooms with boys melting down and treating our guests unkindly.

And while I have accepted others into my space, I have been afraid that they might not accept us. 

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As we prepare for potluck #9 (in which I am down one 12-year-old helper with a broken arm and a husband working overtime all week), I find myself thinking more about Jesus and the Lord’s Table as I labor. I am meditating on His gracious acceptance of his oft-confused disciples who still didn’t understand fully who he was, and His acceptance of the one who would betray Him. Further, I am meditating on His gracious acceptance of ALL who surrender to Him in faith.

When we partake of the Lord’s Table, let us look beyond the silver platters and clear cups. Let us not just remember Christ on the cross, but the Christ who sat at table with His disciples. Let us remember the Christ who knelt down and washed dirty, smelly feet.

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Coming back to Chris Tomlin’s song, “The Table,” I see a thread. I am not sure that this song is meant to be about the ordinance of the Lord’s Table. Rather, I think it is meant to be about the future “Marriage Supper of the Lamb,” when the Bride of Christ (the church) is presented to Christ, adorned in Christ’s righteousness, and celebrated with a feast. The thread runs from the first Passover (which foreshadowed Christ’s death), to the Last Supper (a Passover feast), and ends at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

When we partake of the Lord’s Table, we look back to the Passover. We look back to the Last Supper. “And in the Lord’s Supper, we experience a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.”

This song hits on all of it. It reiterates the phrase that our pastor spoke in his message on hospitality:

“You have been welcomed at the Lord’s Table. . .it was an incredible guesture of acceptance. . .Let that grip you.”

It also speaks to the basis for my acceptance – not because I’ve examined myself hard enough, or confessed enough sin to be worthy to partake, but rather because of Christ’s righteousness:

“I know He has a place for me
Oh, what joy will fill my heart
With the saints around the mercy seat of God”

I searched the Scriptures, and I could not find a specific reference that indicated that the Marriage Supper of the Lamb takes place around the Mercy Seat. But I love the inclusion of the phrase nonetheless, because it brings my thoughts back to one of the seven words I mentioned in a previous post, propitiation:

Unlike myself (who may “absorb the cost” of hosting a monthly potluck in my home quite imperfectly), Christ absorbed the cost of my sin perfectly, completely, and for all time. It is that absorbtion of the cost that allows me to be invited, welcomed, and accepted at the Lord’s Table.

I’m invited to the table of the Lord
I’m invited to the table of the Lord
He says, “Come just as you are”
To His table

This understanding that I am accepted and personally invited to the Lord’s Table (like I have invited people to MY table) has given me such joy – such settled satisfaction – in participating in the Lord’s Table ordinance. It’s an opportunity for me to feel the acceptance and love of my Savior, to remember how He absorbed the cost for me. Not as something that hangs over my head that I have to feel bad enough about or repay in some way. But something for me to accept with love, peace, gratitude, and satisfaction.

I would like to conclude with another song from my playlist, called “Come to the Table” by Sidewalk Prophets. Hear your invitation:

“You have been welcomed at the Lord’s Table. Let that grip you.”