From Ceremony to Supper

If you want to see what grace looks like, and to keep living as someone who is free in Jesus, don’t look at a pulpit for a way forward.

Look at the table in your home, favorite coffee shop, pub, or break room.

In short: don’t look at a programmed service or polished table with place cards. Look at the messy kind—wine-spilled, bread-broken, laughter-drenched, feet-on-the-chair kind of table.

If any table tells the story of grace, it’s the one in that upper room (Matthew 26).

A bunch of flawed and frail friends—some devoted, some doubtful, all about to fail Jim—and Jesus, in the middle of it all, raising a cup.

He gave thanks.
Held up bread and wine.
Declared His body and blood given for them.
Then He said:

“Keep doing this.”

Not to remember their failures.
But to remember Him.

The Party That Got Turned Into a Performance

That story is hard to find these days.

Because somewhere along the way, this table got repurposed as religion became the new norm (we struggle to break free from).

It became a sign of who’s in and who’s out—
not of who Jesus already is for everyone.

But communion was never meant to be a test. 

It was a meal. A grace-on-display, seat-for-everyone kind of party.

And when we miss that, we turn the feast into a funeral—and Paul into a warning label.

“Examine yourself…” (1 Cor. 11:28)

As if the table is a test you have to pass.

But Paul wasn’t scolding people for showing up unworthy.
He was rebuking The Church for making others feel unworthy.

Here’s the Scene

In the early Church, believers gathered in homes—not auditoriums (that’s important to note).

The wealthy would show up early and feast.

The poor, getting off work, arrived late to find empty tables and half-hearted leftovers.

Imagine it: A room full of people celebrating a God who welcomes everyone—while whispering, “Sorry, you missed your chance.”

Paul’s rebuke wasn’t “Be more holy.” It was:

“Wait for one another.”
“If you're that hungry, eat at home.” (1 Cor. 11:33–34)

The problem wasn’t overeating.
It was exclusion.

Which means the biggest mistake we make at this table today isn’t taking it too lightly. It’s forgetting that everyone…
at the table…
has already been made worthy…
by Jesus.

What the Table Is—and What It’s Not

In case you’re wondering whether communion is a magical act of priestly transformation or an invitation for us regular humans, remember this:

• These were everyday believers, not ordained priests.

• And yes—they were able to get drunk on communion. (Let that sink in.)

This was no somber ceremony or structured church service.
This was a feast.

When we break bread and pour wine, we’re not trying to summon God.
We’re proclaiming that He already came.

We’re not cleaning ourselves up.
We’re toasting to the death of the self who tried.

Because what’s left is life. The real kind.

Who’s Invited?

Still not sure if it applies to you?

Judas was there. After he had already betrayed Jesus.

And what did Jesus do?
He handed him bread.
He filled his cup.

If that doesn’t settle the question of who’s invited—nothing will.

You don’t need a stage—just a table.
A porch, a park, a late-night kitchen.
Anywhere people can be people.

Yes, even with kids running wild and dishes in the sink.
Even with the same two friends over again.

Couples, parents—this counts. This is it.

So wherever life has you…eat. Drink. Laugh.
Share the story of the God who has united Himself to us.
Raise your glass to the absurdity of grace.

Because this ongoing way of life was never about getting it right.
It’s always been about the One who already did.

And He’s still passing the bread.

How Do I Do This?

Turn the space you’re in to a moment to remember grace. Or, pick a spot. Once a week. Once a month. Or whenever the wind shifts—gather the people you know and meet.

Celebrate the stories.
Name the grace.
Raise a glass and remember the Good News:

God has already made His home in us all. (John 14:20; Gal 2:20)

Here’s a prompt to get started:
Think of one person you’ve shared good news with lately.
Send them a text. Invite them to a meal.

Because unbranded friendship in the faith is the Church Jesus started.

A life of friends passing on grace.
And yes—you were made for it.