I WILL HONOR YOU: Making Room at the Table

 

In my life I have noticed something profoundly sad: we tend to honor the successful. We notice the people who have accomplished something, the people with influence, the people whose names we recognize, and the people who already seem to have a place at the table. Our culture has a way of teaching us who deserves attention and who doesn't. But Jesus entered creation to turn that way of thinking upside down. His kingdom is a kingdom where the lowly, the overlooked, and the marginalized are given dignity and honor. People who may receive less honor from the world are not less valuable to God.

As a pastor, that matters to me a great deal, especially during LGBTQ+ History Month.

There is something important about remembering people. What we choose to remember says something about who we believe is worth remembering. That is part of why we have moments like Black History Month, Women's History Month, Hispanic Heritage Month, Disability Awareness Month, Veterans Day, and LGBTQ+ History Month. At their best, these observances invite us to stop, remember, listen, and recognize the contributions and dignity of people whose stories can easily be overlooked.

For LGBTQ+ people, that remembering can be especially meaningful because there are generations of stories that have not always been heard. There are people whose gifts have blessed the church and the world while their own stories were sometimes pushed to the margins. There are people who learned to hide important parts of themselves because they feared what might happen if they were fully known. There are also people whose courage, creativity, faith, advocacy, and perseverance have helped make our communities better places.

Remembering those stories is one way of saying that these lives matter and that these stories belong in our shared history. It is also an invitation for those of us who may not share those experiences to slow down long enough to listen. We don't have to pretend that every theological question has been settled or that everyone sees these issues the same way. We can simply recognize that there are people in front of us whose lives and experiences deserve to be treated with dignity. I think that gets us much closer to what the Bible means when it talks about honor.

Honor is more than recognizing someone's accomplishments or giving someone a place of prominence. Through a biblical lens, honor means seeing the person in front of us as someone who carries God-given dignity and then treating them accordingly. God has a way of giving greater honor to those who often receive less honor, and if we are going to follow Jesus, that should shape the way we see people too.

One of the postures I believe Jesus invites us into is noticing the overlooked and the under-served and learning how to honor them.

We see this in Luke 14. Jesus is attending a dinner, and he notices people trying to find the places of honor around the table. They are looking for the seats that communicate importance and status. Jesus uses that moment to challenge the way they are thinking about honor. Then he turns to the host and takes the conversation even further. Don't just invite your friends, family, and neighbors who can return the favor. Invite the people who never get invited.

Jesus is asking his followers to stop looking only for the people who are already noticed, already invited, and already sitting at the table. Instead, he asks us to notice the people who are being overlooked and make room for them.

That is where honor moves beyond something we believe and becomes something we practice.

I have started thinking about this through four simple practices that I call the 4 S's: serving, speaking up, spending, and sitting.

Serving is one of the most basic ways we communicate that another person matters. Sometimes the most meaningful thing we can do is simply be willing to give something of ourselves for someone else. In Matthew 25, Jesus connects the way we treat people who are hungry, thirsty, strangers, sick, or imprisoned with the way we treat him. That is a significant statement about the value Jesus places on people who are often overlooked.

When we serve someone, we communicate through our actions that they matter enough for us to give something of ourselves.

Sometimes honoring someone means speaking up. When someone is mocked, dismissed, stereotyped, or treated as less than, we have a choice about how we respond. We can participate in the disrespect, remain silent, or use our voice in a way that gives dignity. Ephesians 4:29 reminds us that our words should be used to build others up and give grace to those who hear them.

This matters during LGBTQ+ History Month because honoring LGBTQ+ people cannot simply mean saying that we welcome them while remaining silent when they are being treated as less than human. We may not all use the same theological language or arrive at the same conclusions about every question surrounding sexuality and gender, but we can all recognize the responsibility to treat people with dignity. Speaking up can mean refusing to participate when someone is being mocked or reduced to a stereotype. It can mean telling someone who has felt invisible, "I see you and I stand with you."

We also honor people by spending what we have been given. Money is certainly one kind of resource, but it isn't the only one. We have time, knowledge, experience, influence, relationships, opportunities, and a seat at tables that someone else may not have access to. In 1 Peter, the Apostle Peter reminds us that whatever gifts we have received are meant to be used in service to others.

That changes the question we ask. Instead of only asking, "What do I have?" we can begin asking, "What has God given me that could help someone else flourish?" Maybe that means opening a door, sharing an opportunity, making an introduction, giving someone your time, or using whatever influence you have to create space for someone who has historically been left outside. When we use our resources for someone else's good, we recognize that what God has placed in our hands was never intended to be used only for ourselves.

And then there is sitting.

Think about Zacchaeus. The crowd had already decided what kind of person he was and had already placed him in a category. Jesus could have joined them in that judgment, but instead he stopped, looked at Zacchaeus, called him down, and chose to spend time with him. Jesus was willing to sit with someone the crowd had already decided wasn't worth sitting with.

Sometimes honoring someone doesn't require us to have the right words. Sometimes it means being willing to sit with them long enough to hear their story. That feels particularly important when we are talking about sexuality, gender, theology, race, politics, culture, or any of the other places where people can quickly become categories instead of people.

We are often much quicker to categorize someone than we are to know them. We must re-learn the gift of being able to disagree with someone and still honor them. We can misunderstand someone and still choose to listen. We can hold different theological convictions and still refuse to reduce another human being to the category we have placed them in. Sitting with someone says, in a very practical way, "You are worth my time."

Maybe that is part of what it means to remember what Jesus was like when he met us. He didn't begin by reducing us to a category. He came closer and saw the person.

So, what does it look like for us to develop this posture of noticing the overlooked and honoring them?

I think it begins with an open heart that is willing to see people as more than the category we have placed them in. It requires open eyes that pay attention to the people who may be overlooked around us. It means noticing the need without assuming we already know what someone needs and being willing to listen before we try to fix, correct, or change someone. Then we offer ourselves by giving what we have, whether that is our time, our voice, our resources, our attention, or simply our presence.

Because honoring people isn't something we do once. It becomes a way we see people. It becomes a posture we carry with us.

Maybe that is one of the gifts LGBTQ+ History Month can offer all of us, regardless of where we find ourselves in the larger conversation. It gives us an opportunity to remember people whose stories may not have received the attention they deserved and to recognize contributions that have sometimes been pushed to the margins.

Perhaps most importantly, it reminds us that we don't have to choose between listening and having convictions. We can listen without surrendering our beliefs. We can ask honest questions without treating people as questions to be solved. We can disagree without withholding dignity.

That feels very much like the Messy Middle to me.

We live in a world where people are often eager to sort one another into categories. Jesus seems much more interested in drawing near to people. He notices the person who has been overlooked, makes room for the person who wasn't invited, and sits at tables with people others have already judged.

So perhaps the invitation for us is to ask some uncomfortable questions. Who have I learned to overlook? Whose story have I never really taken the time to hear? Who has been sitting at the edge of the room while I have been comfortable at the center? Who might God be inviting me to notice?

What would it look like for me to honor them?

Maybe it starts by serving someone, speaking up when dignity is being taken away, using something God has given us to create an opportunity for someone else, or simply sitting with someone long enough to hear their story.

Because the Gospel is not simply about believing that people have dignity. The Gospel calls us to live as though they do. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is notice the person who has been overlooked, move a little closer, and make room at the table.

That is what it can look like to say, "I will honor you."