Dinnertime Devotions and Gospel Hope

I made too much chicken. That’s how it started. Too much chicken. 

As I cooked dinner last night, I thought through my day, mentally adding things to tomorrow’s to-do list, stepping out of the kitchen periodically to address sibling squabbles in the next room. Moving between tasks, I prepared twice as much chicken as our family of four needed. I separated broccoli florets from the stalks, thoughtlessly adding two pounds of broccoli to my dutch oven where a few daubs of butter sizzled in readiness. I hefted the heavy pan of chicken, each piece stuffed with jalapenos, bacon, and cream cheese, into the oven and wondered why I had made so much food.  

While the chicken baked and the broccoli sautéed, a neighbor kid knocked on the door. His family recently moved in a few blocks away, and he’s ridden his bike over a couple of times to play basketball in our driveway with our son. Later, when I called my son inside for dinner, I thought about all the extra food and asked our guest to join us if he thought his parents wouldn’t mind. Assuring me they wouldn’t, he agreed. I grabbed another plate, another set of utensils, another cup, another napkin, and pulled an extra chair up to the table. There are no coincidences with God. I hadn’t made too much food after all. 

As we ate, we learned a bit more about our dinner guest, and he asked us lots of questions about our family and jobs. As the plates emptied, we informed our young friend that we have our family worship time at the dinner table, and we’d like for him to join us.  With kids that are seven years apart and have different bedtimes, dinner is the most reliable time of our day for the four of us to gather for Bible-reading and prayer. We read (we’re finishing up a children’s Bible—we’ve been through several as well as some catechism), we prayed (we pray for one church member per evening), and we sang (we’re teaching our kids “The Doxology”). It was simple—a bit chaotic—but intentional. We’ll do it all over again tonight. And tomorrow night. And the night after that. 

I washed dishes after everyone cleared the table, and I thought about why we’d begun having dinnertime devotions in the first place. It wasn’t my idea. More than a decade ago, we were invited to dinner at the home of some church members. They had a large family with children spanning a wide age gap. As soon as the dinner dishes were cleared, the father pulled out his Bible and began reading. He closed in prayer, and then the kids scattered in different directions. Dinnertime was their most reliable time together as an entire family, so it became the most logical time for family worship. I realized years later, after lots of unsuccessful attempts at bedtime devotions, that dinnertime was a good option for my family, too.  

We fight for that time around the table eating, laughing, talking about our day (and, let’s be honest—correcting and disciplining and teaching kids not to throw food), and we view it as a perfect setting for inviting others into our time of family worship. It’s been a natural path to gospel conversations where they’d have been less likely to come otherwise.  

There was the time my husband invited a gentleman he’d befriended at the gym to come over for dinner. We spent the evening getting to know him over large plates of spaghetti and garlic bread. He seemed a little uncomfortable when the Bible came out at the end of the meal, but he admitted later he’d enjoyed watching our kids participate in the routine of family worship. We got to talk to him about Jesus.

There was another time that our new church members from Korea came over one evening during Advent season and took part in the Christmas version of our dinnertime devotions.

There are all the times when family members visit from out-of-state or when church members come over for a meal. Each time we add another seat to the dinner table, we have an opportunity to show our guests that Jesus is our treasure, and we want them to treasure him, too. 

Each time we add another seat to the dinner table, we have an opportunity to show our guests that Jesus is our treasure, and we want them to treasure him, too. Share on X

If you do not have a practice of family worship with your spouse or children, or if you live alone and the thought seems strange—I’d encourage you to consider dinnertime devotions. Everyone has to eat, and you’ve already wrangled everyone around the table. Why not make this an intentional time to feed your family spiritually, too? The benefits can reach beyond the people living in your home. Inviting others to dinner is a simple way to show hospitality to both believers and unbelievers alike. If you’ve got the practice of family worship set up at dinner, then anyone who eats at your table can be welcomed to fix their gaze on Christ—even if for just a few minutes.  

For those who sit at your table that do not follow Jesus, dinnertime devotions provide an easy path for nourishing food and gospel conversations. Loneliness and lostness are problems that believers can and should address with dinner invitations and gospel hope.  

For those who sit at your table that do follow Jesus, dinnertime devotions serve as a way to nourish and encourage one another physically and spiritually. Loneliness and discouragement are problems that believers can and should address with dinner invitations and gospel hope.  

A few months ago, my husband and I traveled to Canada. We had dinner with some believers in Alberta and discovered they had the same practice of family worship at the dinner table that we do. We joined their time of Scripture reading, prayer, and singing. Though we’d never met before that evening, my heart was knitted closely to theirs from then on. Christ is our bond, and taking part in this family’s enjoyment of Christ stirred up my own affections for him as well. 

I’ve been on both ends of this scenario–inviting others and being invited in. I find that the regularity of a meal, a passage of Scripture, prayer, and a song are comforts that we need and need to offer others. The meal is just food, but when you couple it with dinnertime devotions, the meal gives you an easy way to open up your Bible with those who need to hear the strong, true, comforting, convicting, life-changing words of the Lord. Praying with them demonstrates the free access we have to God the Father who cares for all our needs. Singing of what Christ has done for us at the cross shows the joy that is found in treasuring him the most. What better gift can we offer those who sit around our table?

 

 

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Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash