Who will you bring to the table?
It was 4am, December 24, 1997. With mounting excitement I drove through the deserted back streets of Beit Lahia, heading to the northern border crossing at Beit Hanoun to collect my parents and brother. We were spending Christmas together, and they had made the effort to travel all the way to Palestine. Like my father said, “When else would we have an opportunity to visit Gaza?” Working at the Middle East Union, my father was a seasoned traveller, missionary and pastor. He had been to most countries in the Middle East and Northern Africa, but the Gaza Strip had been off limits.
I was halfway through a six-month work assignment in Gaza, training paediatric nurses. I had been welcomed with open arms and treated with dignity and respect by my Palestinian colleagues and students, and made to feel part of their community. The hospitality of the Arabs is second to none. When I was interviewed for my role, I made it no secret that I was a Seventh-day Adventist, and that I would not work Sabbaths. I was told this was not an issue, however, under no circumstances was I to discuss religion and my faith. I accepted this but reasoned silently that if I was asked, I would share as much as God allowed.
My colleagues worked six days a week and had Sundays off. After some time, my students noticed that I was conspicuously missing every Saturday. A few weeks before Christmas, three of my students cornered me at college. Little Atta, with his round jovial face and welcoming attitude, approached me with two others in tow. Little Atta got straight to the point. “We understand that you have Saturdays off because of your religion,” he said, as three pairs of eyes stared at me intensely. “Are you Jewish?”
I was taken aback. I knew that the next thing I said would be the difference between me staying in Gaza or having to leave. Praying silently, I smiled, appearing calm despite my racing heart.
“No, I am not Jewish,” I chuckled. “But I do keep the Sabbath. I am a Christian. You do know that Jesus was a Jew and that all Christians kept Sabbath until it was changed to the Sunday?”
They looked surprised. Words from my interview echoed in my head: Do not discuss religion. I realised that this was a God moment, and He would give me the words to say.
“Christians are not all like the Hollywood movies,” I carried on. “The church I belong to has very similar values to Islam.”
Over the next few minutes, we discussed what I believed in, and I carefully pointed out the visible similarities between the Adventist Church and Islam. While I prayed silently, they went off in a huddle to discuss what I had said.
Finally, little Atta returned with a smile. “We have decided that you are OK. (Phew!) You are a Christian Muslim,” he said with the biggest smile on his face. And just like that I was fully accepted.
My family and I had the pleasure of spending Christmas with my Palestinian friends and “sitting at their table” for Christmas lunch. As we sat on cushions, surrounding the meal spread on a plastic tablecloth on the floor, I reflected that this was how Jesus and His disciples might have shared a meal. In the very land where Jesus was born, and had become a refugee as evil forces tried to destroy the only hope our planet had for survival, my family and friends were fed and served by people who also were refugees. The fact that they celebrated a Christian holiday with us, out of respect, showed what calibre of humans we were with. There was no them and us, just a group of friends celebrating the birth of our Saviour, with a meal.
I strongly believe God puts people in our lives at certain times for specific reasons. Roll on 27 years and I have lost touch with all of my friends and colleagues, bar one. A student nurse in one of the wards was one of the few who could read and write English fluently, and we managed to stay in touch over the years.
I have often wondered why I stayed in touch with him. Over the past year God has revealed why. After the October 7 attacks by Hamas and the brutal retaliation by Israel, life in Gaza changed dramatically. We have all seen the news and followed the war, and we all have strong opinions on who should be held accountable for what actions.
Jesus did not ask us to argue over which political view was right. He asked us to love our neighbour as ourselves, to feed the hungry, and to look after the widows and the orphans. All of them! Israeli and Palestinian.
While I have friends on both sides of this conflict, my Palestinian friends are the ones starving, trapped and in need of food. My friend is currently in a senior nursing role based in the north. When many were told to evacuate to the south, he and his family stayed behind. He and his colleagues stayed to serve their people and to ensure medical services remained in the north. With no income and minimal access to expensive food, there was no guarantee of survival.
Just before last Christmas, they ran out of food and money, and we felt impressed that we needed to act. So, we started a fundraiser to feed them. What was meant to be a one-off donation has become a year-long project. As my friend and his family “sit at our table”, he shares stories and updates, and we share God’s love. It has not been just about sending money, it has been as much about sending hope and encouragement, sharing Bible promises, praying over his family and neighbours. And when our funds have dried up, we have prayed for God to provide, and every time someone has donated just the right amount to keep this family fed. Not only has his family survived but he has fed the most vulnerable in his community with the funds.
As our year-long “Christmas meal” enters its second year, I am not concerned about ending this meal, as God provides. My only concern is, have we shared God’s love to the point that my friend sees Jesus in us?
I encourage you to consider who will “sit at your table” this Christmas, and would you consider embracing them and loving them for as long as God places them in your life? There are so many hungry souls around us, and Jesus died to save them all. Let us not allow prejudice and politics to get in the way of serving our neighbours, even those we are not drawn to. This Christmas, it is my prayer, that we ask God to place people in our lives who we can bring to the table and let us actively disciple them into the arms of Jesus.
Nicola Bender attends Gosford church, NSW.
