Week 4: Making Room at the Table…with humility
By Rev. Dr. John Regan, Executive Minister
My parents had clear rules for our dinner table. During the hot summer days of growing up in LaPorte, Texas, my mother routinely reminded her three sons: "Take a shower, put on a clean shirt, and then you may come to the dinner table." Prohibited behavior was addressed quickly and firmly, but never loudly or harshly. Yet, the most profound lesson I learned at our table was never addressed with words.
My two older brothers, Mike and Steve, had close friendships with another large Catholic family in our neighborhood, the Rileys. People in our community regularly confused the Regan and Riley kids. It was understandable; our mothers were close friends, our fathers carpooled to work, and we children grew up in shared circles. One evening, one of the Riley boys showed up for dinner unexpectedly. The first time this happened, I was amused. By the fourth occurrence, annoyance crept in. By the tenth, frustration simmered beneath the surface.
Here's how it happened. One night the doorbell rang during dinnertime and one of my brothers answered the door and let Kevin into our den. My brother returned to the table and announced, "it's just Kevin." Without hesitation my mother stood up and said to my dad, "Dan please get another plate for Kevin." She met Kevin in the den, we heard voices but could not make out the words. Kevin sat down and had dinner with us, with no questions or explanations.
By the third time this happened my father hopped up automatically, my mother remained seated, and one of my brothers would answer the door and lead Kevin directly to the table. Apparently, there was a lot going on in Kevin's life, but my parents never told me anything, and I was too scared to ask.
While my parents seemed perfectly fine welcoming yet another voraciously hungry teenager to our dinner on a moment's notice, I was not that comfortable or generous. As the youngest I was concerned about my place at the table, and scooting over to make room for another big kid left me pretty concerned about how much food was going to be available as the food was passed.
But both my parents were shaped by history and by communities that watched out for each other, and their children. The language was not your kids or my kids, it was our neighborhood, so it was all of our children.
In Luke 14, Jesus reminds us that humility and hospitality are intertwined—that we must graciously choose the lesser seat and gladly make room for the overlooked. Jesus calls us not merely to tolerate, but genuinely to embrace those who come seeking inclusion, sustenance, and belonging, without expectation of repayment.
My parents quietly embodied the humility Jesus speaks of—making room, extending dignity and welcome. Without fanfare or self-congratulation, my parents created a table where an unexpected guest was welcomed without question. In Kevin, they saw not an intrusion but a neighbor, not an inconvenience but an opportunity to practice radical hospitality.
Like my childhood self, I sometimes still struggle with this kind of generosity. I want my plans to remain undisturbed. But Jesus calls us to a table economy that defies our instincts toward scarcity, exclusion, and self-preservation. He invites us to humble ourselves by making room for the unexpected guest, the uninvited neighbor, the person whose presence might disrupt our carefully laid plans. Humility, as I came to learn from those silent lessons at our dinner table, means seeing beyond my own comfort and preferences and being willing to scoot over to make room for the uninvited guest.
Prayer: God of Abundance and Mercy, teach us to welcome and include those who hunger for a table of belonging. Help us to practice the humility of making room, just as you have made room for us at your table. Remind us that our response is always more important than an RSVP. Amen
Practicing Our Faith: Fast from scarcity and self importance to feast on generosity and humility.
Each day this week, take a moment—at the dinner table, in a meeting, or during a conversation—to practice humility by asking yourself:
Is this a moment to step aside, step back, or step up for the sake of someone else?
Then, choose one small act that makes space: let someone else go first, speak less and listen more, offer encouragement instead of seeking recognition, give freely instead of grasping for more.
Let this quiet, daily practice shape your heart toward the kind of fierce, communal love Jesus modeled—where everyone belongs, and no one is left out.
Sharing the Feast: Putting God’s Love in Action
Extend God's table into our community by humbly supporting Project 66 this April.
Donate boxed or bagged pasta and spaghetti sauce to our food drive for Project 66 and help nourish local families experiencing food insecurity. You can bring those to our donation drop box in the lobby.
Join our Project 66 Workday on Saturday, April 12 from 10–11:30 AM. Together we'll mulch, sort donations, clean shelves, and lend a hand wherever it's needed most. Kids 14 and under are welcome with a parent—making this a meaningful, hands-on experience for your whole family. Sign up to serve with us
Reflection Questions:
When was a time someone unexpectedly showed up in your life, and how did your response reflect (or not reflect) the kind of radical hospitality described in the devotional?
Where do you notice the instincts of scarcity and self-preservation in your own life? How might Jesus be inviting you to practice a different way of being?
What specific space in your life—physical, emotional, or spiritual—feels most challenging to "scoot over" in right now? What might be one small step toward creating that space?