Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community
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A Bigger Table invites readers to envision a church that is big enough for everyone, by holding up a mirror to the modern church and speaking clearly on issues at the heart of the Christian community: LGBT inclusion, gender equality, racial tensions, global concerns, and theological shifts. John Pavlovitz shares moving personal stories, his careful observations as a pastor, and his understanding of the ancient stories of Jesus to set the table for a new, positive, more loving conversation on these and other important matters of faith. Though there are many who would remove chairs and whittle down the guest list, we can build the bigger table Jesus imagined, practicing radical hospitality, total authenticity, messy diversity, and agenda-free community. This new edition includes a small-group study guide complete with ideas for exploring A Bigger Table in a congregation-wide sermon series and program along with a new foreword by Jacqui Lewis and new afterword by the author to explore the challenges of living out the bigger table when voices of hate and exclusion seem stronger and louder than ever.
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This is another one of those books I wish I had been able to read several years ago when I was really anxious about how deep the rabbit hole would go for me... I love this quote from the book:
“I hadn't yet summoned the courage to face the most terrifying questions Christians can ever ask themselves: “if this small part of my faith that I always believed to be true no longer is, what else might not be true?” and “If the Bible doesn't say what I'd grown up believing it says in these handful of verses, where else have I gotten it wrong?” It begins to feel as though those questions themselves will destroy your faith for good, when in reality they should be welcome intrusions. Doubt isn't the sign of a dead faith, not necessarily even of a sickly one. It's often the sign of a faith that is allowing itself to be tested, one that is brave enough to see if it can hold up under stress. The worst thing you can do in those seasons of uncertainty is to pile upon your already burdened shoulders guilt for the mere fact that the wavering exists. God is more than big enough to withstand the weight of your vacillating belief, your part-time skepticism, and even your full-blown faith crises. We've been taught that such things are the antithesis of belief, usually by those who are afraid to be transparent about their own instability. God can handle your wavering, friend, even if those around you can't.” (John Pavlovitz, 44)
I love the message of the book, but there's not enough meat to it or content to warrant a repeat reading.
Here are some other quotes I liked:
“The heart of the bigger table is the realization that we don't have to share someone's experience to respect their road. As we move beyond the lazy theology and easy caricatures that seek to remove any gray from people's lives, we can meet them in that grayness, right where they are, without demanding they become something else in order to earn proximity to us or to a God who loves them dearly. Just as was true in the life and ministry of Jesus. Real love is not contingent upon alteration; it simply is. There is no earning of fellowship or deserving of closeness; there is only the invitation itself and the joy that comes when you are fully seen and heard.” (18-19)
“The truth is real spirituality is usually costly. Many followers of Jesus end up learning this not from the world outside the Church but from our faith tradition itself. We end up choosing Jesus and losing our religion; finding proximity to him creates distance from others. If you seek to expand the table you're going to find yourself in a tough spot. The truth may not get you fired. (Although it might).” (52).
“This is what it means to be the people of the bigger table: to look for the threads that might tie us together and to believe that these are more powerful than we imagine. This is the only future the Church really has. Disparate people will not be brought together through a denomination or a pastor or by anything the institutional church can offer. We know that now. These were useful for a time, but they are an exercise in diminishing returns. The Church will thrive only to the degree it is willing to be out making space for a greater swath of humanity and by recognizing the redemptive power of relationships. (62-63)
This sounds all too familiar:
“Frame the spiritual journey as a stark good-vs.-evil battle of warring sides long enough and you'll eventually see the Church and those around you in the same way too. You'll begin to filter the world through the lens of conflict. Everything becomes a threat to the family; everyone becomes a potential enemy. Fear becomes the engine that drives the whole thing. When this happens, your default response to people who are different or who challenge you can turn from compassion to contempt. You become less like God and more like the Godfather. In those times, instead of being a tool to fit your heart for invitation, faith can become a weapon to defend yourself against the encroaching sinners threatening God's people—whom we conveniently always consider ourselves among. Religion becomes a cold, cruel distance maker, pushing from the table people who aren't part of the brotherhood and don't march in lockstep with the others.” (28)
“I knew without blinking that I didn't have to choose between loving God and loving my brother - and he didn't have to choose between being gay and being adored by God.” (17)