The Tables Jesus Sat At...And the Ones He Flipped
An Easter Conversation I Can’t Shake
I love talking to my dad on Sunday evenings.
My parents live in Florida, and I talk to them most evenings, usually while my husband and I are eating dinner so it’s kind of like we’re all eating together. Sundays, though, are my favorite because every Sunday evening my dad and I discuss the goings on at his church. Part of me thinks he’s just a glutton for punishment because he knows I’m going to ask lots of questions, dispute a lot of the theology, and make him explain why he insists on going there.
Yesterday was my favorite Sunday conversation to date.
Because it was Easter, his usually quite empty early service was overflowing with people. To make matters worse, all these early service attendees didn’t just take their seats—they saved seats for twenty additional family members.
And that meant he had to sit close to other people.
Oh, the agony!
I can never pass up an opportunity to get him worked up, so I launched into a diatribe on how Jesus would probably respond like that. He’d probably be upset there were so many at church on Easter, and he would definitely judge the folks who don’t come to church regularly for taking up the seats of the normal early service attendees. He probably wouldn’t think there was enough God to go around for all of them.
In typical Charlie fashion, he immediately changed the subject as I cackled in the background.
The Jesus We Celebrate vs. The Jesus We Follow
While I was just giving my dad a hard time because I could, I have to admit I sat with this for a while after we hung up the phone. Several things kept nagging at me.
First, I kept coming back to how quick we are to judge the folks who come to church on Christmas and Easter. And y’all know exactly what I’m talking about. But the second one hits a little harder.
People show up to church on Easter. We prioritize celebrating Jesus when the celebration revolves around His sacrifice for us. We don’t give it a second thought.
But what about who Jesus was the other 11,747 days of His life? Or even during the 1,000-ish days of His ministry?
We love to worship the Jesus who saved us, but we struggle to follow the Jesus who set an example for us—the one who intentionally sat at some tables while intentionally flipping others
Leaving the Only Table I Knew
I have to be honest with you—I’m finding it more and more difficult to figure out which tables I should be seated at and which tables I should flip.
For the first couple of decades of my life, I was confident in the one table where I belonged. I sat there proudly, regurgitated what I had been taught, fought the good fight, and systematically judged those who weren’t seated at the same table.
In so many ways, it was easier.
To mimic the language. To proclaim the “truth” as it had been taught to me. To see the world as black and white.
There was only one “correct” table, and I had a place there.
Now, when I glance over at that table, I thank God I don’t sit there any longer. Quite literally. In leaving that table, though, I’ve found I’m not always sure which tables I belong at and which I don’t— which tables Jesus would sit at and which He would walk by or even flip.
Some days that feels freeing. Other days, if I’m honest, it feels disorienting.
Sadly, many of the fullest tables give me pause these days.
The Problem With “The Master’s Table”
I saw a comment the other day about never giving up your seat at the Master’s table, and it made me stop. I understand the idea, but what does not giving up your seat at the Master’s table actually look like in real life?
Because here’s the reality: there isn’t just one table claiming to be the Master’s table.
There are tons of tables claiming to be the Master’s table that do not mirror the life and ministry of Jesus. In fact, many of the tables claiming to be the Master’s table are the very tables Jesus Himself flipped.
When Jesus Flipped the Tables (Luke 19)
Luke records Jesus flipping the tables in chapter 19. He begins in verse 45, saying:
“It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer,’ but you have made it a den of robbers.”
We’ve spent years talking about what Jesus was against in this moment. Too often, the focus is solely on the fact that the merchants were selling goods in the temple.
But we miss what was actually happening.
The merchants were in the court of the Gentiles—exploiting the poor, blocking access for outsiders, making proximity to God transactional, and turning the very house of God into a tool for power and maintenance.
What We Missed About Isaiah 56:7
And maybe even more importantly, we miss Jesus’s reference to Isaiah.
This was written after the Israelites’ exile. They were rebuilding their identity and trying to reestablish what it meant to be God’s people. Historically, Israel had clear boundaries about who was in and who was out.
But here, Isaiah addresses who belongs now. He names two groups: foreigners and eunuchs—two groups who had been explicitly excluded in the past, two groups who had been told, “you don’t belong here.”
And yet, the Lord says something completely different. These very people—the ones the system was built to exclude—have a place.
“…for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”
When Jesus references this, He isn’t offering a nice phrase for wall art. He’s reclaiming a prophetic vision: a temple that is open, not restricted, a place where outsiders can actually encounter God, and a system that does not block access based on status, race, identity, or economics.
It wasn’t just the money these merchants were stealing. It was access, belonging, and a place at the table.
Learning to Pay Attention
Life would be much simpler if there was only one Master’s table, wouldn’t it? It would be so easy to take our seat there and know we have access, belong, and have a place setting with our names on it.
But maybe the question goes beyond just finding the right tables and staying seated there. Maybe it’s learning to pay attention.
To notice where access is being restricted instead of restored. To notice where belonging is being withheld instead of graciously offered.
And maybe the question we should be asking isn’t just what tables Jesus would flip, but what tables He would quietly pull up a chair to and why.
Reflection Questions
Where have you been taught there is only one “right” table, and how has that shaped the way you see others?
When you think about the spaces you occupy, who has access… and who doesn’t?
Are there tables you’ve stayed at out of comfort, even when something in you knew it wasn’t right?
Where might Jesus be inviting you to sit longer instead of walking away?
Where might He be inviting you to stand up instead of staying quiet?
I write in two spaces. A Seat at the Table is where I explore faith, healing, and making room for honesty after it’s been made complicated. Ink & Intention is for writers who want to show up with clarity, discernment, and integrity—especially online.
I’m also the author of Breathing Again and several guided journals, and I work with writers who want thoughtful, grounded support as they find their voice and shape what comes next.
If something here resonated, you’re welcome to explore more at your own pace. You can find everything in one place here.
