8.24.25 – Sermon written and preached by Leigh Rachal @ FPC Abbeville

The Table of Grace: Reclaiming faith from its misuse as a tool of scarcity and control

Luke 22:14–20, Isaiah 55:1–2, 1 Corinthians 11:17–34

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There’s a table at the center of our sanctuary.

Maybe you’ve seen it so often you hardly think about it anymore.

But it’s always there.

And in our Reformed tradition, it is intentionally a table, not an altar.

We do bring our offerings here.

We bring our financial gifts, and our worship, and our prayers.

But we don’t come to make a sacrifice in the way that altars once required.

We don’t reenact the suffering of Christ.

When we gather at this table, we remember the love of Christ.

We remember that we were made by love, in love, and for love.

A love that has been and continues to be poured out for us and in us and through us.

This table is not a place where we earn grace.

It’s a place where we remember that grace is already ours.

We can never, on our own be “worthy” of this table,

But we are welcomed here anyway and made worthy by the one who invites us.

Even today, when we don’t break the bread or drink from the cup during worship,

the table is still here, at the center of our sanctuary,

and at the center of our life together.

It reminds us who we are, and whose we are.

And I think that’s true of the tables in our homes, too.

Not just the beautifully set holiday tables,

but the ordinary ones, perhaps, especially the ordinary ones:

the weekday tables scattered with crayons and homework or bills and receipts…

the tables where conversation is the centerpiece…

Where meals are shared.

Where stories are told.

Where lives are really lived.

And where love is really experienced.

When Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me,”

I believe he meant more than one kind of meal.

More than one kind of table.

I believe he was giving us a way to live:

with grace at the center,

with room for one another,

and with love enough to feed the world.

When Jesus gathered with his disciples the night before his death,

it wasn’t in a banquet hall full of dignitaries.

It was in a room of ordinary people:

his friends and followers,

who were fishermen and tax collectors…

These were faithful folks doing their best, even though that wasn’t always enough….

Gathered around the table with Christ were

disciples who loved him but also questioned and doubted him,

most of them would deny and abandon him when the road got rough,

and on the night of the last supper, Judas, the one who would betray him the next day was there.

Still, Jesus took the bread.

And he took the cup.

And he said, “This is for you…..”

He didn’t pause to check who was worthy.

He didn’t send anyone away.

He didn’t require certainty or perfect theology or a spotless past.

He gave himself freely.

And I believe that’s what makes the table holy:

Not that we come in perfection, but that Christ comes in love.

Not that we’ve earned the invitation,

but that we are welcomed - again and again - just as we are.

In the words of the prophet Isaiah:

“Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters;

and you that have no money, come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”

Bread without price.

Nourishment without cost.

Grace without prerequisites.

It’s not just poetry. It’s a declaration.

A declaration that the things of God cannot be bought or bartered.

They are given.

Like manna falling from the sky in the wilderness.

Like water from a rock.

Like the most perfect Love given for the whole world.

We don’t have to prove anything to come to the table.

We don’t have to be sure of what we believe.

We don’t have to be sinless.

We just have to be hungry.

Hungry for hope.

Hungry for healing.

Hungry to remember who we are and whose we are.

Paul wrote to the early church in Corinth because something was going wrong with their practice of communion.

Some people ate too much.

Others were left out.

The meal of Christ had become a mirror of the world’s divisions

rather than a sign of God’s unity.

Paul doesn’t tell them to cancel communion.

He tells them to remember what it’s about: communion!

He tells them that when we eat this bread and drink this cup,

we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

We remember the one who died for all,

and we recognize that we, who are many, are one body.

This table is not a place of separation. It is a place of belonging.

It is a place of inclusion and love pouring out, overflowing for the world….

You remember that when Ancient Israel was wandering in the wilderness after escaping Egypt,

“manna” fell from the sky to sustain them.

Well, because of that experience, ancient Israel had a practice of keeping a portion of the manna in the Tabernacle.

This was called the Bread of Presence or the “bread of the face”.

It was a symbol of God’s nearness, provision, and love.

For Ancient Israel, in the bread, they saw the very face of God.

I still believe that.

I believe that when we come to the table,

we are not just remembering something from long ago.

We are encountering something real – today.

We are tasting grace.

We are seeing love face to face.

And we are being sustained—again—for the journey ahead.

And this world is hungry for this bread...

Hungry for communion. For connection...

Hungry for kindness and grace…

Hungry for a love that doesn’t measure or exclude or control….

My favorite definition of evangelism is that it is just like “one beggar telling another where to find bread….” (original source unknown. Usually attributed to D.T. Niles, a Sri Lankan pastor)

And the good news is that this table,

the one at the center of our sanctuary,

the one at the center of our worship,

the one at the center of God’s heart,

this table holds more than enough Love for the world.

Even today, when we don’t share the actual bread and cup,

we still gather at the table and in Christ’s presence.

to remember what it means, and

to shape our lives around the grace this table reveals.

Because this table is not only a ritual we engage in one a month,

It is a way of life.

It is a reminder that every table can be holy,

if it is gathered around in remembrance and in love.

Christ said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”

And yes, that means the bread broken and the cup poured during the Lord’s Supper in Church.

But I believe it also means:

Do this… when you sit with a grieving friend.

Do this… when you make room for someone new.

Do this… when you feed the hungry or visit those in prison.

Do this… when you forgive the one who hurt you.

Do this. This life of grace and welcome and presence. Always.

Around this table, even when there isn’t any bread or cup on it, we gather in remembrance that:

we belong,

and that this table has more than enough nourishment for us and for the world…. for whatever the journey ahead may hold.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.