Learning to Belong to One Another

Learning to Belong to One Another - Luke 5, 6, 7, 15, 23

We’re grateful for you and the gifts of God that you bring with you into this space.

As a church, we want to live in God's unfolding story, being transformed by Jesus, learning to belong to each other across our differences, as God invites us into freedom, joy, and boundless generosity.

We pray that whether this is your first time with us this morning, or you've been a part of our community for a while, that you will feel the invitation of the Holy Spirit to join in with our vision.

If you are looking for a church home, we would love to become your church home, and I in particular, would love to become one of your pastors.

This morning I want us to sit with a question that I think Jesus forces upon us every time he gathers people around himself: How do we learn to belong to one another?

I emphasize learn because I've become convinced that belonging across difference isn't a personality trait some people have and others lack. It's a spiritual practice. It's a discipline. And it's one that most of us need serious training in—including me.

But I also want to be honest with you from the start: this sermon isn't going to pretend that all differences are the same, or that every disagreement can be bridged with goodwill and a shared meal. Some can. Some can't. And part of learning to belong to one another is learning to tell the difference.

The Strangest Dinner Party

Let's start in Luke chapter 5. Jesus has just called Levi, a tax collector, to follow him. And Levi does something remarkable—he throws a party.

Then Levi held a great banquet for Jesus at his house, and a large crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who belonged to their sect complained to his disciples, "Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?" Jesus answered them, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." (Luke 5:29-32)

This first meal of Jesus's public ministry was a dismantling of the old world order. There was a systematic table etiquette that governed the social lives of first-century Palestinian Jews. You were either in or out.

Everyone knew their place.

But Jesus reclines at table with Levi and his friends. Dining with a known sinner was a risk for Jesus. It would mark him, ruin his reputation, cause those around him to question his standing before God. Is he righteous? Is he holy? Can we trust him?

And the Pharisees aren't being unreasonable here. Their intense focus on Torah was tied to their belief that God wouldn't act until the people were ready. If the people remained unholy, how could God come and restore them?

But Jesus was signaling that the Kingdom of God was breaking into the present age with welcome, space, forgiveness, and reconciliation. He was enacting a new world order. The table says something about who's in and who's out—and Jesus was redrawing the lines.

The Disciples Nobody Would Put Together

Now turn with me to Luke 6. Jesus is about to select his twelve closest followers.

One of those days Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God. When morning came, he called his disciples to him and chose twelve of them, whom he also designated apostles: Simon (whom he named Peter), his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called the Zealot, Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor. (Luke 6:12-16)

Do you see what Jesus did here? Read that list again slowly. Matthew and Simon the Zealot. These two men would have considered each other enemies. Matthew was a traitor. Simon was a revolutionary.And yet Jesus called them both.

But let's be careful here. Let's not romanticize this too quickly. Matthew and Simon had profound differences—but their differences were compatible with human dignity. Simon didn't think Matthew was subhuman. Matthew didn't think Simon had no right to exist. They disagreed fiercely about tactics, about politics, about how God would restore peace to them again. But they both believed God was faithful to God’s people.

Their differences were the kind that could be held in tension around a shared table, because neither man's presence at the table was a denial of the other's right to be there.

This distinction matters. Because not all differences are like this.

When Desire Becomes the Entry Point

Let's turn to one of the most startling scenes in Luke's Gospel—chapter 7.

When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. (Luke 7:36-38)

She shreds the social-political construct of the dinner party in her desire to get to Jesus. She's there for a reason. She's on a mission. And she doesn't care what it costs her.

Simon the Pharisee watches this unfold and mutters to himself: "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.”

And here's where Jesus does something we need to pay attention to. He turns toward the woman—not Simon, but the woman—and says to Simon:

"Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet." (Luke 7:44-46)

Jesus doesn't broker a compromise between Simon and this woman. He doesn't help Simon "understand her perspective." He protects her. He honors her. He lets Simon sit there with his judgment exposed. Simon doesn't have a conversion moment in the text. He's just... there. His hostility isn't resolved; it's simply overruled by Jesus's declaration: "Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

This is different from the trite narrative where everybody learns to get along. Jesus makes space for the vulnerable by confronting the powerful—not by brokering mutual understanding.

The entry point to belonging is desire. This woman came with nothing but her longing for Jesus, and that was enough. It's not about whether we think we are worthy. It's about whether we are willing.

The Table Has a Shape

But here's where we have to do some harder theological work. Because someone might hear what I've said so far and conclude that Jesus's table has no boundaries at all. That belonging across difference means anything goes. That we just need to be nicer to each other and everything will work out.

That's not what Jesus teaches. And it's not what Paul teaches either.

In 1 Corinthians 5, Paul confronts a situation where a man in the church is sleeping with his father's wife. And Paul doesn't say, "Let's be curious about his perspective." He doesn't say, "We need to make space for people in different places on their journey." He says: Put him out. Hand him over to Satan. Don't even eat with such a person.

Why? Because some behaviors are incompatible with the community Jesus forms.

And in Galatians 2, when Peter withdraws from table fellowship with Gentile believers because Jewish Christians from Jerusalem showed up, Paul doesn't say, "Let's dialogue about our different convictions." He says Peter stands condemned—because Peter's withdrawal denied the humanity and belonging of Gentile believers.

Here's the thing: the table Jesus sets is radically inclusive. But radical inclusion has a shape. It has non-negotiables.

What are they? Let me name three: Human dignity. Every person is created in God's image. No exceptions. The universal scope of God's love. God's favor is available to everyone. Not just some people. The conviction that no one is beyond redemption. Everyone can turn toward Jesus. If your position denies any of these, you've put yourself outside the community.

Curiosity Within the Boundaries

So where does that leave us? With a community that has both radical welcome and real boundaries. And within those boundaries—within a community committed to human dignity—we practice something hard: curiosity over judgment.

The grumbling in Luke 15 reveals something: "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." Grumbling is what we do when we're unwilling to ask an honest question. It's what we do when we've already decided we know the answer.

But curiosity is more spiritually significant than we realize. When we choose curiosity over judgment, we create space for the Holy Spirit to work. When we choose judgment, we close off that space—not just for others, but for ourselves.

Within the community that has said yes to human dignity, yes to the universal scope of God's love, yes to the possibility of redemption for everyone—within that community, we will still have differences. Real ones. Hard ones. Differences about worship style and political priorities and how to read Scripture and what faithfulness looks like in a complicated world.

And those differences require us to stay present. To ask questions. To get curious. What life experiences shaped that conviction? Where do you see Jesus in your position? Help me understand.

This is slow work. It requires patience, humility, the willingness to be wrong, the capacity to live with tension without rushing to resolution. It means trusting that the Holy Spirit is at work in the person whose perspective confuses you.

But this isn't naive tolerance. It's disciplined love practiced among people who have all agreed that everyone at the table is fully human.

The Long Arc of Transformation

One more thing. Jesus-centered belonging makes space for the long arc of transformation. We don't have to be finished to belong. We have to be willing to begin.

Look at the disciples. When Jesus calls them, they're a mess. Right up until the crucifixion, they're arguing about who's the greatest. Peter denies Jesus. Thomas doubts the resurrection.

But Jesus doesn't wait for them to be mature before he calls them disciples. He invites them into relationship and lets the transformation happen over time, through belonging to him and to each other.

The thief on the cross didn't have time to demonstrate his transformation. He just had time to want. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus said: "Today you will be with me in paradise."

Not someday. Not when you've earned it. Today.

This gives me hope for our life together. We're all works in progress. We're all being drawn toward Jesus from different starting points. And we need each other for transformation to happen.