Jesus got angry.
Not often—but when He did, it mattered.
He walked into the temple once, saw what was happening, and started turning over tables. Money went everywhere. People scrambled. And in the middle of it all, He says: “My house will be a house of prayer, but you have turned it into a den of thieves.”
Some passages of Scripture don’t yield easily to careful analysis.
We’re used to treating every word as serious, precise, and direct. And that’s good—to a point. But sometimes Jesus speaks with irony. Sometimes He exaggerates. Sometimes He sets something up just to see what we’ll do with it.
He was often more indirect than we expect. And sometimes, He was even playful.
There are lines you don’t cross. Places you don’t sit. People you don’t eat with. Everyone knows that.
So we stood outside where guests were spilling out onto the porch. Close enough to see through the doorway. Far enough to remain… clean.
We heard about Him before we ever met Him.
Hard not to. Everywhere He went, something happened. People got healed. Storms stopped. Demons left like they’d just been fired.
And then one day… Matthew left. Just got up from his booth. No warning. No explanation. One minute collecting taxes, the next—gone.
From the beginning, the heart of the Catch has been simple:
We are all about Jesus.
Not a political version of Jesus.
Not a cultural version of Jesus.
Not a version shaped by public opinion—even public “Christian” opinion.
Just Jesus—the Jesus of the gospels, as told by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
It had all been arranged. The first ones there had found everything just as he had said, so they prepared the table with the Passover meal, but with an undercurrent of unrest.
It was the beginning of the end. But it was not the end of the status quo that they feared. They had known no status quo for three years and had come to enjoy, instead, the freedom and security of His constant leadership.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. Psalm 23:5
What a strange place to prepare a table for a warrior. This could be interpreted in so many ways. I think probably the basic idea is provision. God provides us with what we need in the face of our enemies.
But I would like to take a definitely bolder approach to this. True biblical scholars should probably look away right now as I proceed to ignore every rule of hermeneutics known to man, and on the most studied, well-known Psalm the world over, no less. But when I read this, I think not only of provision for David, the Psalmist, in battle, I see an opportunity to bring others to the table, even one’s enemies.
At mealtime Boaz called to Ruth, “Come over here, and help yourself to some food.” Ruth 2:14
“Come over here.” There’s a seat at the table for you.
The workers had come in from the fields for a midday meal. Ruth had been gleaning in the edges the fields, picking up the wheat they dropped there. Gleaning was written by God into the laws of the Jewish people as a means of providing for the poor and those incapable of providing for themselves.
But Ruth knew she didn’t belong at the table with the paid workers. She was a stranger—a foreigner—even an outcast in this society because she was a Moabite.
Dear Catch Community,
From time to time, we are reminded just how quickly life can change.
Today, we are coming to you on behalf of someone in our community who has been hit with a series of overwhelming circumstances—each one difficult on its own, and together, deeply destabilizing.
Tim has recently lost his job due to company attrition. In the midst of trying to navigate that loss, he now faces eviction from his home. And just days ago, his car—his remaining means of mobility—broke down, leaving him without reliable transportation.
This is not the result of poor choices or lack of effort. It is the kind of sudden unraveling that can happen to any one of us—when multiple hardships converge at once.
As a ministry, we do what we can within our limited resources to respond to urgent needs. But there are moments like this when the need is greater than what we alone can provide.
And that’s when we turn to you.
Because this is what community looks like.
Not standing at a distance.
Not assuming someone else will step in.
But choosing, together, to move toward someone in need.
If you are able, we invite you to come alongside Tim in this moment—whether through financial support, prayer, or helping us identify immediate solutions for stability in or near Bassett, Virginia.
Sometimes the most powerful expression of love is simply making sure someone is not alone in their hardest moment.
Thank you for being a community that sees, cares, and responds.
With gratitude,
John & Marti
Click Here to send a gift to Tim. As you do so, you will have an opportunity to “write a note.” Write “for Tim” on the note.
And if you live anywhere near Bassett, Virginia, call Tim at (434) 944-4637 and see what you can do to help.
Ancient Israel had lines.
Who belonged.
Who didn’t.
And Moabites?
They didn’t.
Not just different, but unwelcome—
The kind of people you didn’t build a future with.
And then along comes Ruth.
