My least favorite part of 2024 so far is that it’s an election year, and I know the mud slinging is about to begin. Actually, it’s probably already started, but I’ve been shielding my eyes as usual, to prevent from getting anything in to them that is not easy to remove.
For years I’ve dreamed of the long table, and sure—even families at long tables disagree at times, but America stopped seeming like a table to me a long time ago. And especially in recent years as the general “Us v.s. Them” tone in politics has risen to a fever pitch, it has become harder and harder to have the constructive conversations that lead to flourishing. Our election cycles seem locked in a thumb war—one side attempting to dominate and smash the other side to bits.
Now I’m no political scientist—that’s not my area of strength. And I’m not able to fully understand or keep up with all the latest news updates as far as election cycles are concerned—so that’s not what this Table Talk post is about.
But I am an empath. I can feel the tension others are carrying into this year too, so what I want to talk about, is creating A place of Welcome—and how as believers in Jesus Christ, we absolutely must be willing to honestly do this work. Whatever side of the fence you are on (or if you land perhaps somewhere strangely in the middle like so many of us do), I hope you can glean some takeaways from this post that will carry you and yours into a more peaceful iteration of an election year.
The long table
People love to talk about the long table as long as they picture it filled with people just like them. They want people who bring their share of the potluck (or at least who they know will reciprocate with a mutual invitation), show up on time, wear appropriate clothing and keep things polite.
But Jesus wasn’t really concerned with any of that. After all, he ate with tax collectors and “sinners.” He cared for the woman caught in the literal act of adultery. He spoke to the woman at the well who has such an *interesting* relationship history, that she had to go and gather water in the heat of the day when no one else would be there—this woman, is the first person to whom he reveals himself as messiah.
Yet somehow in the “pursuing holiness” push of the American Church, many Christians think it is more righteous to recoil from such people, or at the very least to put up strong barriers. The blindness that leads so many conservative christians in America to being so extremely Pharisaical is baffling to me. Don’t you know, that if you withdraw from people so much that they cannot “influence” you, then you forfeit all chance to influence them?
The Comfort of Cultural Christianity
When I was a child, I used to thank my lucky stars that I was born in a place where “everyone was a Christian,” or at least pretended to be. When I heard about the persecution other followers of Jesus have faced around the globe, I was filled with a terrified joy that that would never be my life in America. Now oddly enough, the greatest persecution I fear is from those who call themselves Christians.
Because Cultural Christianity does not equal walking hand in hand with the Refugee Carpenter King Jesus. (He wasn’t white you guys.) Cultural Christianity instead has become a petri dish for culturing all sorts of entitlement to enough power to control what is considered “moral” and what is “immoral”—and those lines are first seen through the lens of one political party, and then they are twisted and contorted to stay in line with whichever power promises to keep them on the moral high ground. The worst part is, they suck true followers of Jesus in with them. I keep seeing it happen, and it shocks me.
Somehow, this political game of twister has made it impossible for many conservative christians to see how those on the other side of the fence are actually emulating the ways of Jesus—seeking Justice, loving Mercy, fighting for those on the margins—something that should be a cause for great celebration at the least, if not cause for continued conversations about how we could all work together to make the world a better place.
Church with a capital ‘C’, Jesus with a capital ‘J’
A couple nights ago, I was having a frank conversation with a friend of mine about the “Church” capital C. We talked about how judgmental Christians can be, and how hypocritical many of them are. We talked about asking questions, and I assured her that with me, as with the real Jesus, it was safe to ask those big questions. She said;
“Why couldn’t they just answer my questions when I was younger?”
“I think because they are afraid of their own questions,” I said, “and they are afraid their faith won’t hold up to them. And they are afraid that your uncertainty will somehow lead them to the uncomfortable place of being uncertain themselves.”
I think that is very true of cultural and conservative christians too—they are afraid that they need to die on every hill their political party raises, or else, what leg do they have to stand on?
And somehow, this has made it impossible for them to see the hypocrisy of valuing the unborn, but not the children being gunned down in schools, the refugees fleeing violence across our borders, the LGBTQ+ community, and the women who have no way of making it in this world because our government is one of the few of the developed nations that has little-to-no provision for working mothers.
There are a lot of hard questions; but there aren’t easy answers—there are hard conversations that we could be having across every political line, because deep down so many of us want the same thing: we want peace, and a good life for our family and friends—with enough to eat, and enough freedom to help shape the world into a beautiful place.
It’s written into our very being—this pursuit of a unity we could never achieve ourselves. It’s written into the fabric of a creation that is longing for its full redemption.
But as the differing opinions grow louder, and our fear and anger are manipulated in an attempt to gain even more power—many christians have allowed the long table that Jesus created for us, to be hacked in two.
Hope for the Future?
Can this year be different? Can 2024 be the year that politics do not become the only lenses some of us see through? Can we look at the folks across our respective aisles and see the beauty of God in them? Can we love them?
We aren’t going to agree on everything, that is a certainty. But let us please at least agree to call brokenness, brokenness (whether it directly impacts you or not) and let us remember that Jesus sees and cares about it all—so we can too. We don’t have to be afraid to reevaluate our long held opinions, or our political party’s stance on certain issues. We don’t have to die on all the hills—instead, we can build a table of welcome.
For the tax collectors and sinners. For those we would consider “immoral”. For the faithless. The curious. The hungry. The poor. The down on their luck. The refugee. The single mother. The one that doesn’t look like you, or identify like you. The one who has a sad story to tell about how your privilege hurts them.
Listen. It will not kill you. I know that opening yourself up to being wrong feels like a knife between the ribs, but it will not kill you.
Jesus has gone before us, straddled the politics of a Roman conquered Israel, and he did die for the political implications of all he spoke; but not in the way you think. He died to bring us freedom, but the religious right who instigated his death did so because they were afraid of losing what little power they had.
I know you want to make a better world for your children. But here’s the first step—realizing that we all do.
So let’s reimagine 2024—it isn’t an Us v.s. Them showdown year. It’s a year to build a bigger table. A year to listen deeply, and to seek to understand.
A year to refuse to be divided by party lines, when Jesus died so that we could be FAMILY.
Jesus died, to make us One—to seek the flourishing of others, and the redemption of this world together.
Amen?
Amen.
Thank you for this, so much.
I realize the meat of this message isn’t necessarily about just Church or just Christians. But a line about “being afraid of Christians” struck me. From 2009 until 2022, I was in a state of flux regarding Church. My best friend (husband) had gone Home and that’s when the realization of “who are these people” came over me. Aside from one tiny “healing church” for one very short season of my life, there were no others. For a while I searched and for a longer while, I didn’t. And then I decided to look again. Again I found a tiny chapel of a denomination unlike any I had ever been involved with. The priest was kind and giving and the people were welcoming. And now, for the past year, the people have done nothing but attack this selfless man of God and service. I imagine we will lose him. And then, I will once again be sorrowful, disappointed and angry. And then, once again, I will come home. Thank you Grace for the post and gift of your words. 🙏🏼🕯️🕊️🩶🫒🌿 Susan