There’s something sacred about a table—not just the wood and chairs, but the invitation it represents. In the kickoff episode of our new series The Table, I sat down with Pastor Matt McCarter to talk about biblical hospitality: not the curated kind that shows up on Pinterest, but the raw, vulnerable kind that says, “You matter. You belong. There’s room for you.” Together, we shared stories, Scripture, and real-life moments where the kingdom of God showed up not in a church building—but over a Filet-O-Fish or a school lunchroom table.

What makes a table sacred isn’t the food—it’s the people. Matt reflected on his grandmother’s kitchen table, where love was served without pretense. I remembered my own grandmother doing the same. And it hit us: hospitality doesn’t require a perfect home or a well-planned dinner party. It simply requires a willing heart and a place to sit. Jesus didn’t entertain—He welcomed. And in doing so, He modeled a radically inclusive way of life that invited the outsider in and turned strangers into friends.

This episode reminded us that our tables reveal our theology. Who we invite—or exclude—speaks volumes about what we believe. It’s easy to claim community while clinging to comfort, but true kingdom hospitality is often inconvenient, sometimes awkward, and always powerful. Whether it’s befriending someone who’s homeless or welcoming back a friend with a complicated past, every time we pull out a chair, we echo Jesus’ own ministry—one meal at a time.

But hospitality doesn’t always have to happen at a literal table. Matt shared a moment when he invited a man off the street to join him for a fast-food meal. I shared a similar story in Anchorage. These weren’t grand gestures. They were simple moments of presence—and they created space for transformation. Sometimes, sharing a meal is more effective than sharing a sermon. As St. Francis once said, “Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.”

So here’s your challenge this week: Think about who’s been missing from your table—your conversations, your invitations, your community. Then take one small step toward making space for them. A coffee. A walk. A message. In a world full of fences and closed doors, every act of hospitality is a holy rebellion. And every small ripple of welcome carries the heart of Christ.