On the first day of the week, the disciples 'came together to break bread.' Then there's Paul, talking until midnight, and a young man named Eutychus falls out a window from sleep and dies. Paul brings him back to life and continues talking until daybreak. This is a wonderfully weird, human moment.
I lead a small house church, and I love this verse because it normalizes what we're doing: gathering on Sunday, breaking bread together, eating a meal together as the center of worship. This happened in homes, not fancy basilicas. It was intimate. It was communal. And it could get a little long-winded, apparently.
We've had nights like this. Someone shares a testimony and two hours disappear. We pass around bread and wine, remembering Jesus. We pray for each other. Someone's phone dies, so we just sit in the dark talking. These moments feel like real church to me—not better than traditional services, but more like what I see in Acts. We're continuing what the early church did: gathering on Sunday, breaking bread, communing with each other and with God.
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