Back to Basics Faith 101 Week 4: Lunchroom Rules – Loving Your Neighbor Luke 10:25–37

Introduction: The Lunchroom is a Classroom

We’ve been handed the syllabus, attended Study Hall, started the Group Project and now it’s time for lunch…. …I don’t know about you, but I remember the school lunchroom. Uh-huh, some of y’all know what I’m talking about. That was a place where lessons got taught that no textbook ever held. The lunchroom was a classroom all by itself. If you think back to middle school or high school, you remember—it wasn’t just about food. No, no, it was about identity. It was about belonging. It was about those invisible rules that told you where you could sit and where you couldn’t. You could learn math in the classroom, but you learned belonging in the cafeteria. Can I get an amen?

And y’all know what I’m talking about—tables divided up like little kingdoms. The athletes at this table. The cheerleaders over there. The band kids huddled up in their corner. And then there were the kids who didn’t fit anywhere—trying to find a seat before the bell rang. The lawyer comes to Jesus asking, 'Who is my neighbor?' In other words, 'Jesus, show me the rulebook. Tell me who I’ve got to love, and who I can keep on walking past.' And Jesus says, 'Let me tell you a story. Let me tell you about God’s lunchroom.'

Point 1: Love Crosses Boundaries

Love crosses boundaries. The priest passed by. The Levite passed by. But here comes a Samaritan—an outsider, somebody the Jewish people had no dealings with—and he stops. He doesn’t ask, 'Is this man like me? Does he vote like me? Does he worship like me?' No, no, no. He just sees a human being in need, and love compels him to act. Now let me make this plain: love that only stays at your own table isn’t really love at all. - If you can only love folks who look like you— - If you can only serve folks who live in your neighborhood— - If you can only care for the people who sit at your table in the cafeteria of life— Then you’re not following Jesus’ rulebook. You’re following your own. Illustration: Every once in a while, somebody in that cafeteria would break the unwritten rules. The star quarterback would go sit with the kid nobody else wanted around. And you could hear the whole room buzz—'What’s he doing over there?' But for that one kid, that moment was salvation. That moment was belonging. Application: That’s what it looks like when love crosses boundaries. That’s what it looks like when the church gets it right.

Point 2: Love Is More Than Words

Love is more than words. The priest and Levite had the right words. They could quote the law. They could preach the sermon. But when the man was bleeding on the side of the road, their words turned into silence. Church, we’ve got to be careful we don’t fall into that same trap. We can sing 'They’ll Know We Are Christians by Our Love' on Sunday morning—but if nobody can see our love Monday through Saturday, then what good is our song? Story: I’ll never forget a sister in the church who told me, 'Pastor, I don’t remember all the sermons I heard when I was sick. But I remember the casserole on my doorstep. I remember the friend who sat with me through chemo. That’s what love looked like.' That’s it. That’s the Gospel in casserole form. That’s the Good Samaritan with a Pyrex dish. Application: Love has to show up with skin on. It has to show up with gas in the car to give somebody a ride. It has to show up with a text message that says, 'I’m praying for you and I mean it.' Love has to move from words to work.

Point 3: Love Costs Something

Love costs something. The Samaritan poured oil and wine on the man’s wounds—that cost him something. He put him on his donkey—that cost him something. He paid the innkeeper two denarii—that cost him something. And he promised to come back—that cost him something. Here’s the truth: if your love has never cost you anything, then it might not be love—it might just be convenience. Illustration: Y’all remember back in the cafeteria days, when you had a dollar in your pocket for milk or a snack, and your friend forgot theirs? If you slid that dollar across the table, you knew what it was: sacrifice. That’s the training ground for the kind of love Jesus is talking about. Application: Loving your neighbor might cost you time. It might cost you money. It might cost you stepping outside your comfort zone. It might even cost you some friendships. But church, if it cost Jesus His life, then surely it can cost us something too.

Bringing It Together

At the end of the story, Jesus asks, 'Which one was a neighbor?' And the lawyer can’t even bring himself to say 'the Samaritan.' He just says, 'The one who showed mercy.' And Jesus says, 'Go and do likewise.' Translation: Don’t just admire the Samaritan. Be the Samaritan. Don’t just sit at your own table. Pull up a chair at somebody else’s. Don’t just say 'I love my neighbor.' Go show it.

Closing Challenge: Your Assignment

So here’s your assignment for this week’s 'lunchroom rules': 1. Notice who’s left out. Who’s at the edge of your world, looking for a seat at the table? 2. Cross the line. Sit where people don’t expect you to sit. Love who people don’t expect you to love. 3. Pay the cost. Let your love be more than convenient—let it be costly, sacrificial, and real. Because in God’s lunchroom, nobody eats alone. In God’s lunchroom, every table is open. And in God’s lunchroom, loving your neighbor is always the rule.