FLIP THE TABLES

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES

Not long before He was crucified, Jesus entered the temple, saw the moneychangers and merchants turning worship into profit, and, without hesitation, flipped their tables. As I think about it, I can see the coins scattering, the birds taking flight.

That story is often told as a moment of righteous anger, but it was more than that. It was a protest and a warning, the clearest sign we have that Jesus was not interested in religion used for personal gain or exclusion.

Here in the hills of eastern Kentucky, faith has long been our anchor. The Gospel was carried on calloused hands and preached in voices worn soft by coal dust. Our grandparents sang hymns in one-room churches and believed deeply in caring for one another, especially the widow, the orphan, the hungry, and the brokenhearted. That is the heritage we have inherited, the Gospel that held us up. But in recent years, something has shifted.

We have watched as the name of Jesus has been weaponized for politics, used to justify cruelty, and distorted into something transactional. People promise blessings for donations. Pulpits peddle certainty instead of compassion. We see neighbors in need, and instead of remembering the lessons in Matthew 25 — that whatever we do for the least of these, we do unto Him — we fall into fear, judgment, or silence.

Our Appalachian story has always been one of survival and neighborliness, of looking out for each other when the world looks away. But somewhere along the way, we stopped asking what Jesus would do. We have allowed faith to be reduced to a checklist of morality rather than an invitation to love and eternal salvation.

This is not written in condemnation but from a place of deep concern. Many people in my generation are leaving the faith, and I understand many of the underlying causes. My thoughts are not meant to shame but to awaken.

Jesus did not flip tables to start a fight; He did it to clear a path, to make space for the outsider, the seeker, and the wounded. And if we are following Him, we must be table-flippers, too. We must resist the temptation to sit comfortably while others are left out. We must remember that our faith is not a possession to guard but a gift to share.

So, let us return to the Gospel that shaped our region: the one that welcomed all and feared no truth. Let us be known not for the noise of our beliefs but for the quiet strength of our love. Because the tables He flipped are still standing and in the way.

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