Breaking Bread
READ
Food has always been more than fuel in the Kingdom of God. From the manna in the wilderness to the wedding feast in Cana, from the feeding of the five thousand to the Last Supper, meals matter. And in the early church, breaking bread together wasn't an occasional social event—it was central to their common life.
Let’s take a moment to read Acts 2:46-47:
Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.
REFLECT
Acts tells us they broke bread in their homes daily. This included both the Lord's Supper, a sacred remembrance of Jesus' death, and ordinary meals where they ate together "with glad and sincere hearts." There was no hard line between the sacred and the mundane. Every meal was an opportunity for fellowship, for sharing life, for practicing the Kingdom.
Think about what happens at a table. Masks come down. Conversations deepen. Stories are shared. Needs become visible. When someone doesn't have enough food, it's impossible to ignore. When someone is lonely, the empty chair speaks volumes. When someone is grieving, their lack of appetite tells the story.
The table is where the economics of the Kingdom become tangible. In the world's economy, you eat what you can afford, with people of your same social class. But at Jesus' table, everyone is welcome. The rich and poor sit side by side. Resources are shared. The one with much doesn't have too much, and the one with little doesn't have too little.
This is why Paul is so upset with the Corinthian church. They're celebrating the Lord's Supper, but some are going hungry while others are getting drunk. They've turned a meal that's supposed to embody unity into something that reinforces division. They've missed the entire point.
When we eat together intentionally, we practice what the Kingdom looks like. We slow down in a culture obsessed with efficiency. We prioritize presence over productivity. We create space for conversation that goes beyond surface level. We notice who's missing. We make room at the table for those who are often excluded.
But here's the challenge: hospitality takes effort. It's easier to grab takeout and eat alone in front of a screen. It's more convenient to maintain our privacy and independence. Opening our homes means cleaning, cooking, and dealing with the messiness of real relationship. It requires vulnerability—people will see how we actually live.
Yet this is precisely what the early church did. They didn't wait until their homes were Pinterest-perfect or their schedules were clear. They shared what they had. They welcomed each other into their real lives. And something beautiful happened: barriers fell, community formed, and "the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved."
There's something about sharing a meal that crosses boundaries and builds trust. People who would never come to a church service might accept an invitation to dinner. And in that simple act—passing bread, pouring wine, telling stories—they encounter the Kingdom.
So the question is: What would it look like to reclaim the table as a spiritual practice? Not fancy entertaining, but genuine hospitality. Not waiting for the perfect occasion, but making regular rhythms of inviting others in. Not just eating with people like us, but deliberately crossing social, economic, and cultural boundaries.
Jesus spent much of His ministry at tables—eating with tax collectors and sinners, feeding multitudes, breaking bread with His disciples. He even described heaven as a banquet. The table is where the common life takes shape, where we practice being family, where we taste the Kingdom.
RESPOND
Take a moment to process what God might be leading you to do in light of what you read.
Who could you intentionally invite into your life through a shared meal this week—someone you want to know better, someone who might be lonely, or someone who is different from you?
REST
Take a moment to rest in God’s presence and consider one thing you can take away from your time reading, then close your devotional experience by praying:
Lord Jesus, You made the table a sacred place. You fed multitudes, celebrated with friends, and gave us the gift of communion. Forgive us for neglecting this practice, for choosing convenience over community. Help us to see our tables as places of ministry, our kitchens as spaces of hospitality. Give us generous hearts and open homes. Teach us to break bread together as an act of worship and witness. Amen.