One of my favorite childhood memories from church was our all–church picnic. Ours was always held on Memorial Day weekend, right at that sweet spot where school was winding down and summer was just starting to stretch its arms. Pam and I grew up together at Faith Baptist Church in Sellersville, a pretty good–sized congregation with over 500 people, so it was a BIG deal.

To accommodate everyone, the annual picnic took place at the local community park. It had a playground for the little ones, basketball courts for pickup games, and softball fields for the teens and brave adults who thought they could still run bases like they did in high school. It was a carry–in, potluck–style picnic… none of the church–provided BBQ chicken, dessert & drinks like we do at Bethany. Everyone brought their own food, drinks, lawn chairs, and place settings.

There wasn’t a pavilion—just rows of folding tables set up under a canopy of trees that offered a little shade, if you claimed your spot early. At the time, Pam’s dad, who headed up AV at the church, worked for a traffic light installation company. Their Caprice Classic station wagon was so cool! It came equipped with sirens, lights, and a PA system. And we needed it—if only to compete with the squeals of children and the laughter of adults. The PA system was used to rally the crowd, offer a blessing over the food, and throughout the day announce everything from the start of the three–legged race to the fact that someone had left their headlights on in the parking lot.

But what I really remember was the food. Oh my. Imagine table after table loaded with crockpots, casseroles, and every kind of salad, sandwich, BBQ, and desserts. As a kid, I was convinced that whichever line I picked, the other one had better food. My personal quest was to find one of my mom’s deviled eggs—except they were usually long gone before I got there. So, I’d load my plate high with whatever I could reach… and then grab a separate plate and go back for desserts.

Some years were scorching hot; others, overcast and rainy. But it didn’t matter. My friends and I still ran barefoot in the grass, played until we were exhausted, and felt completely disappointed when our parents called us to load up and go home.

Back then, I never thought about the why of the picnic. And I certainly didn’t know about the dozens of people who worked behind the scenes—hauling tables, planning games, and organizing the softball matchup. To me, it was just… there. A “must–go” event that launched summer.

The Theology of Food

Now, as a pastor, I realize the intentionality behind it—a monumental effort to bring the whole congregation together to share a meal. Because eating together as a church is biblical. And woven throughout the Bible is a “theology of food”—a delicious and important thread that runs from Genesis to Revelation.

It starts in the Garden of Eden, where God gave Adam and Eve food to enjoy as a gift of His provision (Gen. 2:16). Later, He gave Israel a calendar full of feasts—Passover, the Festival of Weeks, the Festival of Tabernacles. These weren’t just holidays to break up the year; they were sacred times to gather, eat, remember God’s goodness, and rejoice in His blessings.

Jesus’ ministry carried this forward as He ate with tax collectors and sinners (Luke 5:29–32), shared meals with friends (John 12:1–2), fed the 5,000 and the 4,000 (Mark 6:30–44; 8:1–10). And on the night before His death, He told us to celebrate a meal, the Lord’s Supper (Luke 22:14–20), using bread and cup as tangible symbols of His sacrifice.

The early church picked up the same rhythm. Acts 2:42, 46 says they “devoted themselves… to the breaking of bread… They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.” These weren’t just quick meals—they were acts of fellowship and worship.

And the story ends with a feast—the marriage supper of the Lamb (Rev. 19:9)—a celebration with people from every nation gathered around the table of Christ. Every picnic, potluck, and family dinner is a small preview of that day.

Why does eating together matter?  Why does God think it is important? Well…

1. It builds unity – When we sit at the same table, we remember we’re part of the same family. Whether you brought homemade brisket or a store–bought bag of chips, you belong. (1 Cor. 10:17)
2. It reflects God’s welcome – Sharing food is one of the simplest ways to show someone they matter. Jesus used meals as an open–door, come-as-you-are ministry (Luke 14:12–14).
3. It encourages gratitude – Mealtime prayers remind us that “every good and perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17). Food isn’t just fuel—it’s a daily testimony of God’s care.
4. It opens conversation – Tables slow us down. Stories get told. Faith gets shared. As P. John reminded us two weeks ago, Deut. 6:7 imagines God’s Word shared at the kitchen table “when you sit at home.”
5. It points to eternity – Every church picnic, every meal with friends, is a dress rehearsal for the eternal feast to come (Isa. 25:6–9).

So I hope to see you this Sunday. And when you load up your plate—and maybe even sneak a second one for dessert—remember: you’re not just eating. You’re celebrating God’s provision, strengthening relationships, and practicing for heaven.