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–– WHAT TO EXPECT
What to expect at
an open Table.
. If you have never sat at one of our tables, here is everything we wish you knew before you arrived. None of it is a rule. All of it is a welcome.
We will eat
We'll share a meal — something simple, made with care because we wanted you there. Come hungry; come empty-handed if you'd like; come with something to share if that brings you joy. There is no etiquette here you could fail. The food is part of the love.
We will listen to one another
And no one will be made to speak. Listening is its own gift, and silence is welcome at our table. If a question goes around, you may pass — without explanation, without apology. Nobody is keeping score. The point is presence, not performance.
We will read Scripture, briefly and with love
A short passage, read aloud, and then sat with — like a small fire we gather around. We don't lecture; we let it do its slow work. You'll be invited to say what you notice, but only if you'd like. You need know nothing beforehand and conclude nothing afterward. Jesus has been speaking through these words for two thousand years; he doesn't need our help to be heard.
We will pray together
Usually short, usually spoken plainly, sometimes silent. No one is put on the spot. Some at the table will pray aloud; others will simply be present. Presence is itself a kind of prayer, and that is more than enough. We pray because we believe Jesus is actually in the room.
We will love you, not pitch you
The Table tries to make Jesus visible the way he usually becomes visible — through love over time in the everyday rhythms of life. If you have questions about faith, we will be glad to talk. If you don't, that is wholly fine. Either way, you are welcome — and welcome again. And again, and again
If you'd like to come again, tell us on the way out, or send a note. The next dinner is usually a month away, and there will be a seat for you.
The Table is where we make space for all . We gather, we eat, we read a little, we pray a little, we clear the dishes, we go home — but not unchanged. The ordinariness is part of the gift: a small place where Jesus is real and life is being built, slowly, together.
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