The Table That Transforms

Every Sunday that I preside over the Lord's Supper at my church, I take a brief, quiet moment to reflect on how amazing it is to have the opportunity to do what I do.  

I also remember that none other than Martin Luther, the great 16th-century reformer, once said that he felt so unworthy to be there that whenever he stood at the Table, he half-imagined that the earth would open up and swallow him into the abyss.  

I do feel unworthy to be the person who breaks bread, and pours the cup, and invites the congregation to come to the Table.  But I also feel the grace and the wonder that have allowed me to do it. 

Sometimes I will remind the congregation that we all come to the Table the same.  The way the world divides us and labels us doesn't matter when we share that holy meal together.  This is why at my church we practice open communion.  Everyone is welcome. 

It's Jesus who invites, not us.  

I recently recalled something that the late Rachel Held Evans once wrote: 

“But the Table can transform even our enemies into companions. The Table reminds us that, as brothers and sisters adopted into God’s family and invited to God’s banquet, we’re stuck with each other; we’re family. We might as well make peace. The Table teaches us that, ultimately, faith isn’t about being right or good or in agreement. Faith is about feeding and being fed.”

The Lord’s Supper is one of the most powerful reminders of who we are and whose we are. At the Table, Jesus invites not the perfect, but the hungry. He gathers not only friends but even betrayers—remember that Judas was present when Jesus broke bread and said, “This is my body, given for you” (Luke 22:19). The Table is where walls come down and grace builds bridges.

Paul reminds the Corinthian church that when we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes (1 Corinthians 11:26). That proclamation isn’t just about remembering—it’s about embodying Christ’s reconciling love. The very act of eating together says something radical: we belong to one another. We are, as Evans says, “stuck with each other; we’re family.”

In a world that often thrives on division, the Lord’s Supper is an act of resistance. It resists the temptation to separate ourselves into categories of “us” and “them.” It resists the illusion that we can save ourselves by being right, or good, or better than others. At the Table, every person receives the same bread and cup—the same grace.

When Jesus multiplied loaves and fish, He fed the multitudes with abundance (John 6). At the Lord’s Supper, He continues to feed us with His very life. We come not as consumers, but as participants in a mystery that makes enemies companions and strangers family.

As you come to the Table, don’t just see bread and cup—see the Kingdom of God breaking in. See grace poured out, unity forged, peace made possible. And remember: here you are not just fed—you are also sent, to be bread for the world.

Prayer
Lord Jesus, thank You for inviting us to Your Table. Break down the walls that divide us, and let this meal transform us into people of peace and grace. Feed us with Your love, and send us to share it with others. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. How does the Lord’s Supper challenge your view of who belongs at God’s Table?

2. In what ways might the Table be calling you to make peace with someone in your life?

3. How does receiving the bread and cup shape the way you live out your faith daily?