The Table That Kept Getting Longer

In a small church in Portland, the congregation voted to remove their pews and replace them with tables. Not elegant ones — mismatched folding tables from a thrift store, scratched and wobbly. The pastor explained it simply: "We have been sitting in rows facing forward for decades. It is time we faced each other."

That first Sunday felt awkward. People who had worshipped side by side for years suddenly had to look into each other's eyes over coffee and communion bread. A retired veteran sat across from a young nonbinary college student. A Guatemalan grandmother shared the table with a skeptic who still was not sure why he kept showing up.

Then something happened. The tables kept getting longer. People the church had never reached — those who had been told by other congregations that God's love was not really for them — started pulling up chairs. A same-sex couple. A woman recovering from spiritual abuse. A man experiencing homelessness who just wanted to sit somewhere he would not be asked to leave.

The apostle John wrote that everyone who loves is born of God and knows God, because God is love. Not God has love, or God approves of certain kinds of love. God is love — the very substance and source of it.