It's not really about the food
I’m really looking forward to a meal out this evening with some good friends. Nothing fancy; just a table, some decent food, and the chance to sit, talk, laugh, and properly catch up. If I’m honest, the food is only part of the draw. There’s something about sitting around a table that helps conversation go a bit deeper. You get past the usual “how’s things?” and, before long, you’re talking about what’s actually going on in life.
It struck me recently how often meals show up in the life of Jesus. He seemed to spend a remarkable amount of time sitting around tables with people, not just close friends, but all sorts. Those who were well respected and those who certainly weren’t. In fact, it caused quite a stir. Some people couldn’t understand why he would choose to eat with those considered outsiders or “not good enough.” For Jesus, it was never really about the food. It was about connection. In his culture, sharing a meal wasn’t casual; it meant acceptance. It said, “You’re welcome here.” And that’s what Jesus offered, again and again. Around those tables, people who felt on the outside found themselves included. People who had been written off were given another chance. Lives quietly, and sometimes dramatically, changed. And it didn’t have to be fancy. Jesus is well known for sharing a sardine sandwich with a few thousand people on a hillside. Bread and fish, not exactly fine dining, but it became something powerful because it brought people together and met them where they were. It does make me wonder whether we’ve made connection harder than it needs to be. We live in a time where we can message anyone instantly, and yet it’s surprisingly easy to lose touch. Weeks turn into months, and we realise we haven’t properly spoken to someone in far too long. Life fills up quickly. We’ve been promising to have tonight’s meal for months. So, here’s a simple nudge: who could you reconnect with this week?
It might be over a meal. It might be a coffee. It might just be picking up the phone instead of sending another message. It doesn’t need to be complicated. In fact, it’s often the simplest invitations that mean the most: “Fancy a catch-up?”
And perhaps there’s another connection worth thinking about too. Just as we can drift from one another, we can drift from God, quietly, without making a conscious decision to do so. Yet the invitation at the heart of the Christian faith is not about formality or getting everything right, but about relationship. A God who meets us where we are, not where we think we ought to be. In a world that can feel a bit fragmented at times, maybe one of the most meaningful things we can do is choose to reconnect with each other, and with God.
And it might just start with something as simple as sitting down together.
First things first?
We are wired for self-preservation. From an early age, we learn to look out for ourselves. Secure your future. Protect your reputation. Make sure you’re not left behind. In many ways, that instinct keeps us safe. But left unchecked, it can quietly shape a life where “me first” becomes the guiding principle.
Easter tells a very different story. As Jesus approached the cross, He did not choose the safe option. He did not protect His own comfort, reputation, or even His physical life. Instead, He chose the path of sacrifice. Christians believe that His death was not an accident of history but a deliberate act of love, placing humanity’s need above His own suffering. In a world built on self-interest, the cross stands as a startling contradiction.
Easter also gives us someone we may find easier to relate to: Peter.
Full of bold promises, Peter once insisted he would never abandon Jesus. And yet, when the pressure mounted and fear took hold, he denied even knowing Him. In that moment, self-preservation won. We can imagine the crushing disappointment that followed; the realisation that when it mattered most, he had put himself first.
Most of us know that feeling. The times we stayed silent when we should have spoken. The moments we protected our image instead of defending someone else. The occasions when convenience outweighed compassion. And yet Peter’s story did not end in failure. After the resurrection, Jesus sought him out, not to shame him, but to restore him. The one who had denied Jesus was invited back into friendship and purpose. Grace met disappointment. Putting ourselves first is natural. But Easter invites us into something greater. Love moves us to consider others before ourselves. Compassion leads us to step towards someone in need, even when it costs us time or comfort. A sense of justice urges us to speak up when something is wrong, even if it risks misunderstanding.
We see glimpses of this every day: a neighbour checking in on someone who lives alone; a colleague taking the blame to protect a junior team member; a parent sacrificing sleep, energy, and personal ambition for their child’s wellbeing. These small acts echo a much bigger story.
The cross shows us that real strength is found not in grasping for ourselves, but in giving for others. Easter reminds us that while self-interest may be instinctive, self-giving love is transformative. In choosing to put others first, we reflect something of the heart of Christ Himself. Come and join us or one of the other churches this Easter and experience a community marked by compassion, humility, peace and a love for others.
