It started with a contradiction. My husband loves people. I… don't. At least not in the way that requires constant scheduling, cooking, hosting, and coordinating calendars weeks in advance. We were both tired. Tired of trying to find time for the people we actually wanted to see. Tired of the back-and-forth: "When are you free?” "What about next week?” "Let's try next month." Tired of cooking one more dinner or paying for another meal out that wasn't really designed to include kids. And underneath all of that was something deeper: Community had become… thin. We waved at neighbors in the summer. South Dakota winters kept everyone inside. Friends we loved were reduced to text messages. At the same time, we were aware of something bigger. In 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General named loneliness and isolation a public health crisis. We didn't need a report to tell us that, but it gave language to what we were already feeling. So instead of asking, “How do we schedule more time with people?” We started asking a different question: What if we stopped scheduling… and simply opened our door? The First Sunday We didn't overthink it. We subscribed to a simple online invitation service and sent one message: First Sunday of the month. Come as you are. Bring a chair, something to share, and your whole self. No RSVP pressure. No expectations. No religious programming. Just… come. The first time we did it, about 80 people showed up. Neighbors. Friends. Colleagues. People from completely different parts of our lives. I remember one moment so clearly: A colleague walked in and locked eyes with one of our friends. They paused, trying to place each other. And then it clicked. Their faces lit up with this contagious, almost childlike joy. That's when I realized: This wasn't just about us hosting people. It was about people discovering each other. And here's the part that surprised me most: I left that night… full. As someone who doesn't naturally "like people," I expected to feel drained. Instead, I felt refreshed. Joyful. Grounded in a way I hadn't expected. And that has been true almost every single time since. What a First Sunday Actually Looks Like It's simpler than you're probably imagining. There is no program. There is no agenda. Instead, there is a rhythm. The kids start decorating sometime during the day. I plan a dish earlier in the week—always something vegetarian and kid-friendly. Around 4:00 PM, we set out chairs, drinks, and paper goods. At 4:30, we put up a simple sign: "Come in." From 5:00–8:00 PM, the front door is open. That's it. People come and go. They bring food. Or don't. They sit. Talk. Laugh. Sometimes debate real-life things. Yes, sometimes those conversations get a little uncomfortable. Someone has a strong opinion. Someone else is quieter. But here's what we've noticed: It has never stopped people from coming back. By 8:00 PM, we take the sign down. By 9:00 PM, everything is cleaned up. And my role? Not a host. Not a manager. Steward of the space. I don't micromanage. I couldn't. If this required more structure, we wouldn't still be doing it. The Unexpected Guests One of the most striking things has been who shows up. Yes, there are church-going people. But there are also: People who grew up in church and left People who were hurt by the church People who have no connection to church at all Street ministers Curious neighbors And here's what's surprising: You can't tell the difference. There is no visible line between "church people" and "non-church people." In fact, the people who are disconnected from church often show up with the most curiosity. They ask questions about life, about faith, about meaning, but in a way that feels relaxed, not pressured. When we ask people why they come, the answers are simple: "My kids and I feel welcome here." "It's joyful." "I leave feeling refreshed." "I feel connected again." There is one neighbor who refuses to give us their phone number. They're cautious, perhaps even a little suspicious. And yet, they never miss a chance to ask: "What's the theme for next month?" The Children Changed Everything If I'm honest, the children have become the heart of this. After the first few gatherings, they took over. One Sunday, I was away preaching when my husband called: "The kids are moving furniture and redecorating the house." My response? "Don’t be a church basement lady. Let them." And they did. They created themes. Decorations. Activities. They even started their own fundraiser—completely on their own. They've raised money for: The rainforest A street ministry The Humane Society They made art. Organized raffles. Hosted an art show. What I've learned from them is this: Everyone has gifts waiting to be released. Sometimes all they need is space. Where the Gospel Shows Up (Without Announcing It) We don't label this as church. There's no sermon. No liturgy. But if you look closely, the shape might feel familiar. People gather. Food is shared. Strangers become neighbors. Stories are exchanged. People leave changed, even if just a little. Jesus did a lot of his work like this. At tables. At weddings. On hillsides with thousands of people sharing food. There was a rhythm to it. A pattern. A kind of open-door invitation: "You want to come? Come." That's what this feels like. "Come as you are" isn't a slogan here. It means: Come tired Come joyful Come skeptical Come curious Come exactly as you ask Sometimes that means someone just walks across the street because they're too depleted to do anything more. And that is enough. What Has Changed Something has shifted. In our family We share a sense of excitement around something we do together. It's not a chore, it’s something we look forward to. In our neighborhood We are known, not for a title or a role, but as the people who open their home. In my own faith I find myself asking new questions: What is Christian community, really? How does it grow organically? What does it need to thrive? What might need to shift in the church to make space for this? We are also aware of what's still missing. Our neighborhood is largely white. We want to see more cultural diversity. We're working on it, but it's a reminder that intentionality still matters. What Has Been Hard This isn't perfect. Winter attendance drops Sometimes people think, "I'll go next month." Our pets get anxious (they're kenneled during gatherings) We've had to set boundaries, especially around private spaces At one point, kids ignored our daughter's request to stay out of her room. Things were broken. That meant we had to be clear: You are welcome here—when you respect each other. And then there's the quiet temptation we all know: Measuring success by numbers. But connection doesn't work that way. It happens when two or three people are gathered. It happens in small moments, not just big turnouts. Why This Works (And Stays Sustainable) It works because it's simple. It happens once a month, not every week It costs almost nothing People bring what they can There is no pressure to perform People don't come to your house. People come for people. And if no one comes? The kids already solved that. They walk around the neighborhood and ring doorbells: "Hey, want to come over?" Three Things We've Learned Exhaustion can be transformative. Keep it simple. Don't overthink it. What Might Be Possible for You? We're still asking questions. Maybe that's the point. What if the future of community isn't something we design perfectly? But something we grow, imperfectly, together? What if it starts smaller than we think? What is something you already love to do? Who lives near you that you barely know? What would it look like to simply say: "Hey… want to come over?" You don't need 80 people. You could start with 4-5 neighbors. Maybe just 10 contacts on your phone. Throw open your door to food, laughter, and conversation as a first step. Because sometimes the most meaningful expressions of community don’t begin with a one year plan. They begin with a question and a door left open.
As Holy Week approaches, my mind often drifts back to an Easter I spent in Romania. I’ve tried, more than once, to recreate what I experienced there—but I’ve never quite been able to. To understand why, I have to go back a bit. In 2006, my church planned a mission trip to Romania. A group of ten women would spend their days in a hospital caring for abandoned babies. I felt drawn to go—but I hesitated. My own children were young, and the thought of leaving them for that long felt overwhelming. Over time, that hesitation turned into conviction. I sensed God asking me to trust Him—not just with the children I would care for overseas, but with the ones I would leave at home. So I made a quiet promise: If someone drops out and they call me, I’ll go. Two weeks before the trip, the call came. I said yes—but I was completely unprepared. My passport wasn’t even up to date. And yet, one by one, every obstacle moved. It was as if God was clearing the path ahead of me. Our first full day in Romania was Resurrection Sunday. We walked to church through streets lined with stray dogs and crumbling sidewalks. Trash piled up on corners. The buildings felt worn, almost colorless. It wasn’t beautiful in the way we often define beauty. But what struck me wasn’t what I saw—it was what I felt. Overwhelming joy. As we walked, every person we passed greeted us the same way: “Hristos a înviat!”— Christ is risen! And the response came just as quickly, just as joyfully: “Adevărat a înviat!”— He is risen indeed! This joy wasn’t reserved for inside the church walls. It filled the streets. It echoed on buses, in restaurants, on sidewalks. Everywhere we went, people proclaimed it to one another—strangers, friends, everyone. And when we arrived at the church, the joy only deepened. There were warm embraces, double cheek kisses, and then again that same declaration— Christ is risen! —spoken with a kind of wholehearted delight that caught me off guard. This wasn’t a culture known for outward emotion. And yet, here it was—unfiltered joy. It wasn’t manufactured. It wasn’t performative. It was just… real. I had spent my entire life attending Easter services. But I couldn’t remember ever experiencing anything quite like this. It made me wonder: Did the resurrection mean something different here? As I looked around, the marks of hardship were everywhere. Years of oppression had left their imprint on the city and its people. And I couldn’t help but think—maybe that’s why the resurrection felt so alive. Maybe hope always feels more precious when you’ve known hopelessness. I think about how people celebrate the end of a war. My father told stories of the joy that erupted when World War II ended—dancing, parades, people flooding the streets. The kind of celebration that couldn’t be contained. And I wonder… If that kind of victory stirs such joy, what should the victory over death awaken in us? Scripture gives us a glimpse. When the Ark of the Lord returned, David danced with all his might—so freely, so fully that it scandalized those watching. He didn’t hold back. He couldn’t. How much more should we celebrate our Lord’s return from the grave? Jesus conquered the enemy. He let us know the end of the story and who the victor is. Death has lost its grip. We are forgiven, restored, and held in a hope that does not run out. There is no greater cause for celebration! And yet—if I’m honest—so often our Easter joy feels… restrained. Polite. Contained within a service, rather than spilling into the streets. This Holy Week, as we remember Jesus’ final days—His words, His acts of love, His sacrifice—I’ve been asking a different question: What would life feel like if the resurrection hadn’t happened? To sit, even briefly, in that space is to feel the weight of what we’ve been given. Because we don’t live in that story. We live in the one where Sunday came. And maybe that’s the invitation—not to manufacture emotion, but to recover wonder. To let gratitude grow until it becomes something we can’t keep to ourselves. Resurrection Joy and Fresh Expressions I can’t help but think about what I witnessed in Romania and what it might mean for the future of the church—especially for Fresh Expressions. What I experienced there wasn’t a program or a strategy. It was a people so shaped by the reality of the resurrection that their joy naturally overflowed into everyday life. It happened on sidewalks. On buses. Around tables. It was good news carried in ordinary voices in ordinary streets. That’s the heartbeat of Fresh Expressions: cultivating communities where the reality of Jesus—alive, present, victorious—is felt so deeply that it can’t help but be shared. Where resurrection joy shows up in coffee shops, dinner tables, recovery groups, walking trails, and neighborhood spaces. Places where people don’t just hear “Christ is risen” once a year… but encounter the living Christ in the rhythms of everyday life. Maybe the question for us isn’t simply how to celebrate Easter better. Maybe it’s this: What would it look like to build communities where resurrection joy is so real, so tangible, that it naturally spills out into the world around us? Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.
Questions to spark curiosity in your congregation about the community around you! For most followers of Jesus and congregations, we know it’s important to serve the community around us. But we also know it can be easy to grow inwardly focused. While practicing the “one anothers” with those within the church is important, we must work hard to not neglect outreach. Here are some questions that can spark curiosity, launch conversation, and help ensure that we focus on those who are not yet here among us. Knowing Our Neighbors Personally Who are the 20–50 people living closest to our congregation? Do we know their names? Their stories? Their hurts? Their hopes? If not, what keeps us from knowing them? Who feels invisible in our ZIP code? Who are the “connectors” who already exist in our neighborhood? Understanding People’s Hopes, Hurts, and Longings What does good news look like to these people? What are the unspoken anxieties shaping people here? Where is suffering concentrated? What do our neighbors celebrate—and why? What might our neighbors fear when it comes to engaging with a church? What might we do to eliminate or alleviate these barriers? Recognizing Patterns and Knowing History Are there any noticeable themes or patterns in the stories we hear? What stories does our neighborhood tell about itself—through art, events, festivals, history, etc.? What major events (positive or painful) have shaped – and continue to shape – our community today? What assumptions do we have about our neighbors and the neighborhood that may not be accurate? (And how would we know?) Observing the Everyday Rhythms and Spaces Where do people naturally gather—and why? What are the rhythms of life in our community (mornings, nights, weekends)? Where do children and teens spend their time? How could we naturally and appropriately look to inhabit that space in compassion with them? Where do people go to decompress or rest? How does the built environment shape life here? Exploring Assets and Identifying Gifts What charisms – spiritual gifts or assets – does our congregation possess that we could share? How could we be creative with them, if its they are small gestures? What gifts and talents already exist among our neighbors? Where is hope already springing up? What organizations or leaders are already doing good work we could partner with? Identifying Barriers and Naming Opportunities What barriers and obstacles prevent people from flourishing? What is noticeably missing in our community? What keeps us from knowing our neighbors’ names and stories – time, busyness, fear, apathy, lack of creativity, lack of courage, etc.? What small acts of consistent kindness could build relational bridges? Reflecting on our Congregation’s Existing Presence If our church disappeared tomorrow, would our neighbors notice? Would they care? Would they mourn? If not, how does that make us feel? How do people experience trust – or lack thereof – here? What new forms of church might emerge if we listened more deeply and trusted more wholly?
Starting a dinner church is an exciting new venture. But before we begin, it’s important to have several questions answered ahead of time – logistics, team culture, expectations, prayer, sustainability, etc. Before beginning dinner church spend time asking yourself and your team questions. And consider utilizing these questions with your dinner guests as well. Questions to Ask of Yourself Am I spiritually centered as we begin this initiative? What is the Lord asking of me right now? Who can join me to be committed in prayer for me, the team, and those who will be attending dinner church? Do I have the adequate support from – and with – a team of people who want to serve and lead? How frequently should we host dinner church? Weekly? Bi-monthly? Monthly? How can I best lead and serve our team? How can I best lead and serve our guests? Questions to Ask of Your Team Why do people want to join the dinner church team? What areas/roles do you long for them to play (i.e. shopping, cooking/preparing food, setting tables, greeters, sharing a Jesus story, conversation partners at tables, clean up team, etc.)? What commitment is needed to be a part of the team (i.e. time, prayer, faith, logistics, etc.)? When – and how often? How can we make dinner church sustainable for the long haul? How do we ensure that the details and logistics of dinner don’t override the importance of prioritizing relationships? How will we help get the word out and invite others to join us? What are expectations and responsibilities before? During? After? What do we long for God to do through this dinner church? What does “success” look like a year from now? What 2-3 adjectives do we want to use to describe the feel/ethos of dinner church? How often should the team meet to pray, plan, and discuss further details? Questions to Ask of Those You Meet at Your Table How did you first year about dinner church? It’s not often you hear the word “dinner” and “church” next to each other. What do you think about the idea of dinner church? Do you have any experience with church? With faith? with God? If so, what has that been like? What are some of the most meaningful times you’ve had another a table before? What did you think about the Jesus story? What detail or element of the story stuck out to you? What implications do you think this story might have on your life today? If you could ask Jesus 2-3 questions after this story occurred, what would you ask him – and why? If Jesus were sitting at this table sharing this meal with us this evening, what would you want to ask him? Are there ways I can pray for you? (Would you like me to pray for you right now, or would you like to me to pray for you throughout the week?) Did you like the meal this evening? Can you join us for dinner church next time?
Anniversaries are always rich times to look back, look around, and look forward. It helps us to gain perspective, to celebrate where God has been at work, and to look strategically and wisely at the future for how to best position ourselves for future kingdom fruit. On each anniversary take time on your own, and with your team, to interact around the following questions. LOOKING BACK : Where have we seen God show up in the past year? How can I/we pause and thank God for His work through this mission? What do we need to celebrate? Who do we need to celebrate? Where has the Spirit surprised us this year? What do we need to grieve? What do we need to let go of? What have we needed to unlearn and relearn? What do we still need to unlearn and relearn? What hard-fought lessons have we learned through this process? LOOKING AT THE PRESENT: Read Ecclesiastes 3:1-10. What season do we sense our FX is in right now? And what implication(s) might that have if that’s the season/time we’re in right now? How is the team’s morale right now (are they encouraged? Discouraged? Exhausted? Energized? Confused? Hopeful? Expectant? Something else?) LOOKING FORWARD: What do we need to keep? What do we need to tweak? What do we need to chuck? What do we need to start? What do we sense God calling us to become and do in the future? Who else can join us as we serve and lead? What does our team need right now (i.e. encouragement, support, affirmation, prayer, training/equipping, reminding, etc.)? How might we deepen our trust in Christ and the Spirit’s power in the days ahead? What would that require of us to do that? Who isn’t yet apart of this fresh expression that we would love to introduce them to Jesus and His kingdom? What “big asks” are we making of God in this next season? What new ground do we want to take in the name of Jesus and for the glory of God?
Fresh Expressions recently hosted a Missional Entrepreneurship Immersion at church-run coffee shop and community space Ridgetop Coffee & Tea . Located in the midst of an everyday marketplace of business, daycare, and healthcare, Ridgetop has become a natural community hub and a living example of how enterprise and mission can beautifully intertwine. Participants explored the difference between missional enterprises—profit-making businesses that provide needed services in the community while creating space for relationships and faith—and social enterprises—nonprofit organizations that meet community needs while also fostering meaningful connection and opportunities for faith exploration. Together, the group wrestled with Peter’s vision in Acts 10, asking what assumptions God might be reframing today and how God may be enlarging our understanding of mission, ministry, and building usage. Participants also confronted the “sacred cows” that can keep congregations from stepping into bold, faithful innovation. There was robust conversation around the passage “Unless the Lord builds the house those who build it labor in vain” (Psalm 127:1 NRSVUE) recognizing that missional entrepreneurship can’t be all about our grandiose schemes. Participants also grappled with the question: What does it mean to you that your “success” or “failure” is both in your control and mysteriously not in your control? This work, they affirmed, is not about our brilliant plans, but about faithfully following open (and closed) doors with courage and trust as we follow where God may be leading. A panel of entrepreneurs reflected on the tension between starting small and scaling big. One small-venture entrepreneur shared that through small faithful steps, “I have learned to follow the energy. Where the energy is, I do more of that.” A large-scale entrepreneur reflected, “Because of our scale, we are able to have a scope of impact that is beyond our customers—we have 55 employees that we get to do life with, and that in itself is a fertile mission field.” Some settings will be ripe for a big initiative because of a large real estate transaction, a significant partnership and redevelopment of facility, or a group of investors willing to bring a big idea into reality. Other settings will find themselves in a landscape where an initiative needs to begin with a small investment and scale as opportunities and developing partnerships signal the need to take growth steps. Another panel explored the balance between discernment and action. Too many times, congregations overspiritualize discernment, as if they are waiting for the lightning bolt from God before they can take a step. Others get so stuck in a cycle of discernment that it never leads to decision points and action. On the other hand, some congregations underutilize discernment, running full steam ahead without doing any thoughtful listening, seeking God’s wisdom, or getting to know potential stakeholders or partners. Each panelist reflected on times when they knew they had to move, even if they didn’t feel like they knew enough. “A business plan is important,” one entrepreneurship professor and business owner noted, “but one thing I know about your business plan is that it will absolutely change. But that plan is important because it’s the floor on which you will pivot.” A social enterprise executive director encouraged participants with a simple but powerful question: “What can you start small now?”
Launching a fresh expression can be incredibly exciting. While a passion for starting something new is important, it must also be tempered with thoughtful reflection, prayer, and discussion. Before launching a new fresh expression consider asking yourself – and others – these important questions to discern if this is, in fact, what God is calling you to do. Is this a “good idea” or is this the best idea? How would I know? Doing the right thing at the wrong time can easily become the wrong thing. Is this the right time to launch a fresh expression? How would I know? Have I spent quiet time in silence and solitude over a period of time listening to what the Father desires? Is this centrally rooted with the end goal being discipleship among primarily non-churched people, or is this suited to serve primarily for those already convinced of the way of Jesus? Is my heart in the right place? Is my motive to lead something and be in charge, to look important, to try to win the approval of others or God, or am I doing this to see God’s mission advance and see people come to encounter God amid community with others? Who else might I ask to help me discern if this is, in fact, something worth pursuing? What else would join the team of this fresh expression to ensure that it’s not entirely on my shoulders? Imagine Jesus asking you the question he asked the blind man Bartimaeus: “What do you want me to do for you?” If Jesus asked you that regarding your fresh expression. What would you say? If we were, in fact, to launch this fresh expression, what would be the first three practical steps we would take? What will it require of me (i.e. time, energy, faith, margin in my schedule, courage to push out into something new, etc.)? Am I willing to pay that price? What would this require of your team (i.e. time, energy, faith, margin in their schedule, courage to push into something new, etc.)? Are they truly willing to pay that price? What kinds of specific and practical support would I need for this to flourish (i.e. blessing from my home church, a prayer team, funding, a leadership/ministry coach, ongoing training, relationships of encouragement, etc.)?
Have you ever been out on a boat—whether a cruise ship or a small fishing vessel—so far from shore that there was no land in sight? For seasoned sailors, that may be no big deal. But for those who have yet to get their sea legs, the first experience of open water can feel a little disorienting. How, when you are surrounded by nothing but sea and sky, do you know where you’re going? How do you make sure you’re heading in the right direction—and that the land you eventually reach is the land you actually meant to reach? As passengers, we’re usually not in the control room. We don’t see the compass, the GPS, or the radio connecting the boat to someone guiding the journey. Even when we can’t see it, there are waypoints directing the vessel toward its intended destination. The same question applies to us as dinner church leaders: How do we ensure our dinners don’t drift off course? It’s easy enough to find a room, prepare a meal, and invite our neighbors to the table. But is there more than that? And how do we make sure that, week after week, we’re actually going somewhere—that we are truly encountering Jesus as His church—rather than simply becoming a group of friends who enjoy eating together? There are several waypoints that can help guide a dinner church: ongoing training, regular team huddles, and frequent connection with the Dinner Church Collective community, to name a few. But I want to share one simple tool we use to help keep our dinners from drifting: the development of clear core values . The Oxford Languages dictionary defines a core value as “a principle or belief that a person or organization views as being of central importance.” As your dinner church moves from infancy toward maturity, you need guiding principles. These values help shape who you are becoming and clarify why you do what you do. It’s especially helpful to narrow these down to a few simple, memorable statements. Clear core values make it easier for new team members to understand what’s happening when they inevitably ask questions like, “What are you doing here?” “Why are you hosting this dinner?” and “What is this meant to accomplish?” Jesus speaks to the importance of the inner life in Luke 6. He says, “The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks” (Luke 6:45). What is inside eventually comes out. The same is true for our dinner church communities. What sits at the core of what you do—what you intentionally value, talk about, pray for, and train toward—will shape what your community becomes. At our dinners, we spent time prayerfully narrowing down the values we wanted to embody, drawing on books, training, and lived experience. We worked to keep them simple and repeatable so they could be easily shared and revisited whenever it felt like the boat was drifting. These values have become our GPS waypoints—quietly but consistently keeping us on course. Below are the core values we use, along with a brief explanation of why each one matters. Everyone Belongs Come one, come all! We will welcome everyone to the family dinner table. Luke 14:13–14; Matthew 25:34–40 We wanted to communicate clearly that this dinner is truly for everyone. There is something deeply powerful about the welcoming nature of a Jesus-shaped table. In a world where many people have experienced church as unwelcoming or exclusive, we felt this needed to be a primary waypoint guiding our dinners. Stories Matter We will seek to know not only our guests’ names, but their stories as well. John 15:12 Names matter—but stories go deeper. As we gather around the table week after week, our hope is to move beyond surface-level connection into meaningful relationship. When we know one another’s stories, we create space for honest conversation, deeper prayer, and shared life. Jesus-Centered We will share the Good News of Christ through a brief teaching from one of the four Gospels. Through warm hospitality, authentic conversation, and lives that reflect Christ’s love, we will remain Christ-centered in every part of every dinner. 1 Corinthians 2:1–5 Our dinner churches must never become just another place to eat. Without the life-changing presence of the Holy Spirit, we lose the power to bring about real transformation. We are setting a Jesus table—period. This is our primary waypoint, and it guides everything we do. So what about you? What core values guide your dinner church? And how are you intentionally guarding against the drift?
When congregations say, “We’re too old and tired to start something new,” I understand. Carrying the weight of keeping a church going—especially after years of service—can feel exhausting. But here’s the surprising truth: stepping into a simple new mission may be the very thing that breathes new life into you. Here are five reasons why: 1. New Mission Rekindles Old Fire Remember when your faith felt vibrant—when you couldn’t wait to see what God would do next? Starting a Fresh Expression isn’t about adding more work. It’s about recovering that sense of adventure with Jesus. Nothing wakes up weary hearts like seeing God move in new ways. 2. Purpose Gives Energy Fatigue often comes not just from doing too much, but from doing the same things over and over. When you begin to pour your love, prayers, and presence into new relationships, you may find energy you didn’t know you still had. Purpose has a way of renewing strength. 3. Community Restores Joy Starting a Fresh Expression often happens around tables, hobbies, or simple gatherings. That means laughter, friendship, and shared meals. These are the things that restore joy—not only for those you reach, but for you too. 4. Sharing Your Story Reignites Gratitude You’ve walked with God through decades. When you share that story with someone who’s just beginning to wonder about faith, it does something powerful: it reminds you how faithful God has been. Gratitude has a way of lifting the heaviest weariness. 5. God Loves to Work Through Weakness When you feel old or tired, you’re not disqualified—you’re actually in the sweet spot. As Paul wrote, “When I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:10). God has always delighted in using those who feel small and limited. What feels like the end of your capacity may be the beginning of God’s miracle. And being part of that miracle is one of the most life-giving experiences of all. Maybe you don’t recognize the treasure of what you bring to the mission field right now. But you’ve seen God’s faithfulness through decades of change and have a unique perspective on God’s promises. You know what really matters—love, relationships, and faith—and aren’t swept up in the latest fads or influencers. While younger families are often running at breakneck speed, you have the gift of time and presence. One “old and tired” church is now humming with sewing machines and faith conversations every week. Another “old and tired” church is excited about opening up a Board Game Café in the heart of small town Appalachia. Yet another “old and tired” church swaps recipes and stories every week as they cook for Dinner Church and delight as all walks of life around table together at the weekly Community Dinner. The Bottom Line You don’t have to be young, flashy, or full of energy to start a Fresh Expression. In fact, if you think you are “old and tired,” you might just be perfectly positioned. God is not finished writing stories through you…and your community may need your faith, presence, and wisdom now more than ever.
I have spent a large portion of my studies exploring visual theology, especially in the context of worship. What is the proper place of images in our devotion, and how do they communicate the Gospel message in and of themselves? When I come across an image that particularly moves me, I take notice. I was recently visiting with life-long friends from my college days. For many of those years, we lived in a tight fellowship around mission, music, conversation—and yes, around a table. Whether in a college dining hall or other mealtime moments, we shared something profoundly connective as we gathered for food and fellowship. Formed Around a Table Within hours of my visit, their daughter Anna Rose posted a print of a piece of art she created, and I was immediately taken by its composition. The piece is entitled A Place at the Table , and it captured my attention at once. (She is a gifted artist and entrepreneur, and I would commend her work for your consideration: https://www.goodseedcraftco.com .) It is easy to feel isolated, disconnected, and alone in this chaotic world. We have more means of communication than ever, and yet, as U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek H. Murthy has reported, we are living through an epidemic of isolation and loneliness. He writes: People began to tell me they felt isolated, invisible, and insignificant. Even when they couldn’t put their finger on the word “lonely,” time and time again, people of all ages and socioeconomic backgrounds, from every corner of the country, would tell me, “I have to shoulder all of life’s burdens by myself,” or “if I disappear tomorrow, no one will even notice.” (There is an 82-page report on this epidemic of isolation available here ) A solitary existence lessens us and detaches us from true community and connection. All of us, at some level, are wired for relationship. We can recall the creation account in Genesis 2:18, where God says, “It is not good that humanity should be alone.” We were created with a deep need to belong—to family, to community. In this broken and complicated world, that need often becomes distorted, and we try to fill it with other things. The pandemic accelerated this, as have social media and now artificial intelligence. God With Us Though Christmas may be in the rear-view mirror, we would do well to remember its central message: Emmanuel—God with us. The entire biblical narrative is anchored in this truth. God created us in His image for fellowship with Him. We fractured that relationship through disobedience, and the rest of Scripture is fundamentally about restoration—about God drawing us back into the relationships we were made for, with Him and with one another. The biblical promise, ultimately, is the promise of God’s presence. Jesus embodied this reality through a ministry of with-ness. He was with people regardless of their allegiances, social status, gender, faith, or lack thereof. He was with sinners and tax collectors, traitors and the infirmed, Roman soldiers, uneducated fishermen, and learned scholars alike. A Place at the Table Many of the stories of Jesus unfold around food and shared meals, which brings us back to A Place at the Table. The artwork captures a vision of community gathered around a meal—perhaps strangers, perhaps lifelong friends, perhaps family. This is the heart of the Dinner Church mission. It portrays a table where lives are nourished—body, soul, mind, and spirit. Some recent statistics suggest a renewed interest in Christianity, and I hope and pray that is true. Still, there are many who will never darken the door of a Sunday morning church service. For them, it is unfamiliar terrain—something they do not understand or feel equipped to navigate. Honestly, I do not believe that is what Jesus intended. The Church is not a building, nor is it confined to a Sunday morning experience. It is something more. I’ve found myself saying this often lately: the Church is a community of faith—people doing life together with Kingdom purpose and mission. It is a 24/7 reality, a place of life, hope, comfort, and peace in Christ Jesus. While some may hesitate to enter a traditional worship service, many will make room to share a meal and experience genuine community when given the invitation. This is why the Dinner Church mission is so essential. It is a place of connection with Almighty God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Everyone is welcome. Everyone belongs. Everyone has a place at the table.
