This past Sunday I didn’t have lunch with the usual crowd. We didn’t eat at the usual place.

I sat around the table at IHOP with a former food addict, a gentleman who served in Iraqi Freedom, a 19-year old girl adopted from the country of Colombia,  a three-year old, dinosaur-loving kid, a woman who once chose alcohol and drugs over taking care of her son, and a man who once ruled the streets of his city as a gang member and drug dealer.

It was one of the best meals I’d had in a long time. There was acceptance, boldness, transparency, and most importantly, the fragrance of forgiveness overpowered the smell of butter pecan syrup, which I’m pretty sure will exist in heaven without the sugar and calories.
We talked about Jesus, sex, dinosaurs and banana pudding. Not all in this order.
As I drove away I was reminded that these were the kind of meals Jesus had. He ate with sinners. He let a prostitute dry his feet with her hair. He spoke truth to the woman at the well. He kept a stone from being thrown at an adulterous woman. He turned a tax collector into a disciple. I was reminded that all of us sitting at that table were forgiven. We had been set free. We were cleansed from unrighteousness.
Seven different personalities ate pancakes, chicken salad, pot roast and french fries while we made Jesus the center of our conversation. God is good!
I remember Sundays that used to look very different. Our conversations revolved around the previous night’s hangover, who got “lucky,” and making plans for the next weekend. I can only imagine God shaking his head in sorrow, looking at a table of broken people searching for significance in all the wrong places.
This past Sunday, however, I know without a doubt that God was smiling, knowing that those around the table that day had found their significance in Him.
I want more of this. I want to eat with those I wouldn’t usually. I want raw conversations about real things. I want to sit around the table with sinners and hope they see Jesus in me. I want to get out of my comfort zone and be around the broken.
I’ve been selfish. I’ve been comfortable. It’s easier that way, isn’t it? But that’s not what God called us to do. We are to go out and make disciples.

How can I make a disciple if I’m already dining with disciples?

What about you? Are you staying in your comfort zone because it’s easier, or are you doing the hard things? Eating with the “sinners?”
Let’s change that.