Bigger Table

“On a scholarship to the University of the Arts as a graphic design major, I was suddenly surrounded by and living among artists, musicians, dancers, and actors, for most of whom theology was a late, lingering afterthought if it was a thought at all. This wasn’t church as I recognized it, but it was a decidedly bohemian alternative congregation, where I regularly began working out my big-boy faith with fear, trembling— and lots of cheesesteaks. There were no Bible study groups or Sunday worship services or midweek prayer meetings, none of the familiar trappings of religion that I’d grown up with, but stuff was happening in me just the same— deep, fundamental, soul-renovating stuff.

Back then, from the outside I would have probably been what modern traditional Christian culture identifies as unchurched: nonreligious, lost, and needing to be rescued. In the all-or-nothing battle lines that the modern Church has carved out, my lack of participation in a recognized local faith community would have ensured this label. But labels rarely do justice to those on whom we affix them. In the eyes of the faithful, I was simply off God’s grid. But the deeper truth was not as easily distinguished.

I couldn’t even see it myself at the time, but the place was absolutely teeming with the things of God: the pungent bouquet of brightly colored gobs of oil paint slathered across canvases, the rhythmic stomps of synchronized dancers’ feet hitting the hardwood studio floors, the meandering harmonies of impromptu choirs rising from the stairwells to mix with the street noise outside— a jazz fusion of humanity that Miles Davis would’ve marveled at. There was creativity and discovery and collaboration, and some of the most authentic community I’d ever known or would ever know. I realize now that this wasn’t just an inner-city art school; it was a covert cathedral wrapped in concrete and fluorescent lights, a strikingly diverse masterpiece by Divinity’s hand, even if I couldn’t recognize it or name it at that time.

During those first weeks I spent glorious nights perched on high-rise balconies with new friends talking about life and love and the future. I began living alongside people whom my story had previously kept at a safe distance. And with every new relationship and every stereotype-busting exchange, I was slowly being pulled from the tiny, climate-controlled Ziploc-bag bubble of my childhood God story and into a wide expanse that would make way for what was coming. My soul was being tilled like rich, hard-packed soil in preparation for something new and beautiful to grow, something far greater than what I had understood religion to be and something far more suited to the One who I had been taught spoke the very planet into being and who gave consent for my very heart to begin beating.

Philadelphia was giving me a crash course in the stunning breadth and creativity of the maker of color, light, and sound. God was using a wonderfully odd collection of painters and piano players and comic book artists to rewrite my story. I was in the middle of a stunning plot twist— and was largely oblivious to it all. I just knew it was beautiful.”

~ John Pavlovitz, A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community
John is a pastor and blogger from Wake Forest, North Carolina. His blog, Stuff That Needs To Be Said has reached a diverse audience of millions of people. A 18-year veteran in the trenches of local church ministry, John's mission is to nurture better, more productive conversation about faith, and to help the Church become a more compassionate, loving environment for all people. He serves on staff at North Raleigh Community Church and is preparing to launch an online community called The Table, a Christian community where everyone gets a seat.