students of jesus

You would have loved meal times in the New Testament. The table set low to the ground; the diners sat—or lay—upon the floor. The Bible uses the comfortable phrase “reclined at table.” It was an intimate way to eat, perched on cushions, cozied up to your neighbor.

John’s gospel paints a picture of what we call the Last Supper: Jesus and twelve men, leaning and splayed near the table. Look! There is young John, so close to Jesus he could rest his head upon the Lord’s chest. (Try to imagine modern religious leaders eating together like that!) In this close setting, Jesus reveals that someone at the table will betray him before the night is through. Peter, ever anxious to know the inside story, motions to John, “Ask him, John—he’ll tell you!”

John leans back against Jesus and whispers, “Lord, who is it?” . . . and we know the rest of the story. Jesus tells John to watch closely, he gives Judas a piece of bread dipped in oil, and the cosmic dominoes are set in motion.

The scene is more than a Passover meal: it’s more than the moment when Judas chooses to sell his Lord for a bag of silver. It is a picture of intimacy with Jesus. It’s a place the Lord’s loved ones can ask—and hear—the secrets known only to God. Assembled around the table that night were twelve disciples, but only one rested his head on the Lord’s chest. Only one was close enough to hear and feel the beating heart of the living God. Only one heard table secrets that revealed what was truly going on in the moment, and what would happen in the dark night ahead.

We learn from John’s gospel that there is a secret place reserved for those who love Jesus and receive his love in return. When John quietly refers to himself as “the disciple whom Jesus loved” he also discretely reveals the depth of his love in return. Beyond the place of obedience is the place at the table. Beyond faithfulness, beyond doctrinal purity, beyond intentionality and discipline there is a place at the table. Not a formal, dry, hard chair that sets us before fine china and silverware, but a place to recline, to eat with our hands and drink from a shared cup.

We have an invitation to recline at the table: to feel his breath, and hear his heart. Table secrets await.