Read

Matthew 21:12-13 “Jesus entered the temple courts and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. ‘It is written,’ he said to them, ‘My house will be called a house of prayer, but you are making it ‘a den of robbers.’”

Think

The same Jesus who rode in on a donkey with gentleness and humility didn’t stay silent for long. The next day, he walked straight into the temple and started flipping tables.

Not exactly what the disciples expected.

But Jesus wasn’t angry because people were selling things. He was angry because they had distorted what the temple was meant to be. A space for worship had become a marketplace. A place of prayer had become a performance. And worse—those in power were using religion to exploit the poor.

So, Jesus cleansed the temple.

And here’s the thing: the temple wasn’t just a building. It was symbolic of God’s presence among his people. And after the cross, that presence moved. Now, we are the temple. Not made of bricks and mortar—but housed in our hearts, our lives, our minds.

Which begs the question: what tables would Jesus flip over in us?

Maybe it's the table of pride we’ve let sit too long—where we try to manage our image instead of surrendering our hearts. Maybe it's the table of distraction, where the noise of success, social media, or busyness has drowned out the whisper of God’s voice. Maybe it's the table of comfort—where we’ve stopped making space for conviction.

Sometimes, the most loving thing Jesus can do is disrupt us.

Because cleansing always comes before filling. Before God fills a space with his glory, he clears it of the things that don't belong. He flips what’s false so that what’s true can remain.

And even in his righteous anger, notice what Jesus is fighting for: access. He’s not flipping tables to punish people—he’s clearing the way for everyone to encounter God again. The children, the outsiders, the broken—they were welcome in the house of prayer. Still are.

Today, let him in. Let him disrupt, cleanse, rearrange. His goal isn’t to destroy—it’s to restore. The God who flips tables also heals hearts. And when we let him do both, we become the kind of temple the world desperately needs.

Apply

Ask God what needs clearing out. Spend five minutes in silence and ask: “Jesus, what tables have I set up that don’t belong in your house?” Write down what comes to mind. Then pray for the courage to let him flip them.

Pray

Jesus, search my heart. If there are any tables I’ve built that are keeping me from you—flip them. I don’t want to settle for distraction or distortion. I want to be a temple where your presence dwells. Cleanse me, change me, and make me more like you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.