At My Table

*A note before you read this. After doing an audit of my blog in 2022, I have decided to leave content that speaks to the Christian I was at the time this was written. I no longer identify as Christian (and haven’t for a very long time.) I chose to leave these posts because it is who I was then and it is important to me to be honest and true with every iteration and evolution of self that I experience. I may decide to add comments to the end of posts like this as well

As always, something I posted on Facebook started a ruckus.  I congratulated Minnesota on it’s same-sex marriage legislation.

Oh the horror! A Christian embracing sin!

Yes, it’s what I do. I walk around all day every day trying to figure out how I can disrupt the Good Christian’s walk. I come up with schemes and plans that make Bible-beaters cringe.  I try to find ways to get them to lecture me and quote Scripture to me.


It got me to thinking, would Christ have dined at my table?


The Pharisees of Christ’s day are today’s Christians who walk around acting as if they are better than the rest. It goes something like this: “Love the sinner, hate the sin.”  (find that in the Bible, wouldja please?)  What that says to people is: I am better than you. I do not have to acknowledge that I, too, am a sinner and that Christ has completely forgiven me. I am better than you therefore I will point out your sin and pretend I love you when I really don’t because I wouldn’t be caught anywhere near your filth, because I’m better than you.

I’d tell you people who would argue with me to read your Bibles, but that a moot point.  Because you probably do read bits and pieces of it. What you’re lacking is proximity to Jesus.

The Pharisees read the texts, too. Wore the right clothes. Said the right words. Studied. Regurgitated. And yet, did Christ dine at their table? Or did He throw off their money-changing tables with fierceness?

The Pharisees did not want to be close to Jesus. They wanted to tell him what a Messiah really should’ve been like.

If you want to go after a group of people sinning, how about the Christians who are getting divorced? The Christians who are prideful? The Christians who are lying constantly?  These things:

Here are six things God hates,
and one more that he loathes with a passion:

eyes that are arrogant,
a tongue that lies,
hands that murder the innocent,
a heart that hatches evil plots,
feet that race down a wicked track,
a mouth that lies under oath,
a troublemaker in the family.

Why go after unbelievers with your rules and regulations and cries of, “Sinner!!”

Why not get the plank out of your own eye before picking the speck out of someone else’s?

“Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.

It’s just sick to me the way these “Christians” walk around with their noses in the air, looking down on everyone, judging them, condemning them, telling them how to live and oh by the way–come to Jesus you pathetic, disgusting, vile, sinner, you. He will love you.

Because, yeah, that’s the way to show someone the love of Christ pouring from your very soul that He saved.

At my table are the misfits. (the sinners in case you don’t understand the reference, me being the chief sinner.)

And you perfect Christians can just keep bashing me.

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