A Table Before Me

"You prepare a table before me." ~ Psalm 23:5

Psalm 23 and I have been hanging out a lot lately. Between the long acupuncture sessions and the longer scans I get to spend a good deal of time being utterly still and completely alone with my thoughts. Nothing else to occupy me. Zero interactions. No distractions. And this sometimes feels kind of vulnerable. Maybe even a tad dangerous.  Just me, my brain and a solitary, small space.

Early on, I realized I have a choice when I find myself alone in a machine or with my thoughts ---Will I allow it to feel like a prison or a place of peace? I can let the fear and anxiety overwhelm me or I can let the words of Jesus pour over me. I’m not always successful, but I try to go with the latter approach and fix my eyes on Him and His Word. 

And so this week it was me and the 23rd Psalm. You know the one — The Lord is my Shepherd. It’s a Psalm I grew up on. I imagine most of us have some connection to this particular chapter. I remember being forced to memorize it in Sunday school for a gold star and even in elementary school. Probably high school too! It was a requirement. And though, back then, I wasn’t entirely convinced of its power, I’m so glad today to have it inscribed confidently across my brain. I'm so grateful to have it in my repertoire of things committed to memory. I call on it often.

"You prepare a table before me." Psalm 23:5 

Yesterday in the acupuncture chair and today in the MRI machine, it was verse 5 which grabbed hold of my attention.  Possibly due to the fact that this past weekend I spent a good deal of time preparing a couple of tables for guests in my backyard. 

Thursday and Saturday we hosted two events back to back—-a birthday party for friends and a homecoming dinner for our daughter and her friends.  And somewhere along the planning line, I decided to put together an extra large outdoor table for both parties off the side of our basement patio.

It’s that magical time of year here in the south. The weather isn’t too hot or too cool. The leaves beginning to change. The bugs beginning to hibernate.  The days shorter and the night comes sooner. It is just lovely outdoors in Georgia at the end of October. Like I said, magical.

And so al fresco dining seemed to be the way to go for both soirees. Same space. Same table. Different people and parties. Easy peasy.

The woods around our home were the perfect backdrop. Rick and I worked hard to hang extra lighting and set up tables and chairs. It is never as easy as I think it should be. The lights kept falling and our frustration kept mounting. But our resolve was steadfast. We would do this thing. We would make this work. A roll of duct table and 300 zip ties later and we had achieved our desired effect. I say “our.” I mean my.  Rick could care two hoots about an effect, desired or otherwise. But he cares about me and so he persevered. He’s truly the best. 

With those tasks complete, the real fun began. I prepared the table. Because that’s what I love to do. Whether it be with linen and china or paper products and plastic. I love to prepare a table. I love to put it all together. The special touches, the candles, the centerpiece, the color scheme. The aesthetics. The vibe! Especially when nature gets to be the backdrop for my canvas. That is my happiest hostess place ever.

I carefully considered the details. It wasn’t thrown together haphazardly or hurriedly. Not at all. I took delight in each decision. Spent time on each item. I scoured our yard and woods for treasures and cuttings to put into my centerpiece. Leaves, pinecones, a birds nest and fading flowers. If you’re wired a little like this, then you know exactly of what I write. It’s joy.

While folding napkins and arranging placemats, I thought of those who would attend.  I considered the women and then the teens who might sit at this table with the vibrant woods around them and the lights twinkling above them. I thought of their conversations and their connections. The fellowship. Their friendship. It felt beautiful to me. And that’s why I did it. That’s why I do it. 

I love bringing beauty together, but, even more, I love bringing people together. That is the most beautiful. 

And so today thinking about that phrase in Psalm 23, I couldn’t help but resonate with this one line of scripture and its beauty. 

God PREPARES a table before us. 

HE thinks of us. Considers us. Plans for us. He is in the very details and design of what fills our hearts and fits us together. He doesn’t need the magic of a perfect fall evening, He is the Mystery of Perfection. He is the Designer of all seasons and situations. He isn’t limited to the two weeks of the Georgia year when all things beautiful converge. He is the Very Artist of beauty. He is beauty. He, the unchanging, immutable God who choreographs the dramatic color-changing of leaves. He is not just the ethereal light of a fall evening, He is the actual Light of the World. 

And, even in His full glory, like a most diligent and dedicated host, He prepares a table before me. FOR me. For you. He beckons us to come and sit and be full. Full from the bounty of His blessings. Full from the abundant love of His bringing. Full with the joy of fellowship, friendship, kinship and communion. 

The table. A beautiful symbol of what God has for us. A holy place to be filled. A holy filling. A fitting together of His beloved created and beautiful creation. His own Son sitting at His right hand. Perfection embodied. Our Savior. A  Place-Saver for us. A place saved for all who might come. Anyone. Everyone. All welcome.

That second line in vs. 5 tells us that He not only prepares the table, but does so “in the presence of my enemies.” Hmm. My enemies? I always thought that seemed a little odd. Why would the Psalmist, David, include this? “In the presence of my enemies,” is surely a place no one wants to be. It is a place of hard. A place of hatred. A place even perhaps of hostility. And yet God prepares His table there. Even in that unholiest of places.

Could it be a reminder to us that even in the ugly, unwanted areas of our life, He is preparing. He is present. He is planning for a feast for us, His frail and fearful children. He is arranging a banquet of love in the very midst of our battered living. He is not ignoring us in our pain, He is inviting us into His peace.

He loves us that much. To remind us—even in the hardest, darkest dwellings—there is a place at the table for our tired selves to come sit. 

My paltry attempts at creating a perfect fall evening of fun and fellowship pail in comparison.  As beautiful as I tried to make each evening for my guests and my girl, my efforts didn’t hold a candle or a hanging string of cafe lights to what God has already orchestrated on my behalf.

He has prepared a table for me.

He has a place card with my name written.

With your name.

He has a seat saved and a spot secured.

A chair is waiting.

He has received my rsvp and He knows someday I will be coming. And, like the most gracious Host in the whole wide world, He cannot wait for my arrival. 


He has prepared a table before me. 

Praise be to Him from whom all blessings flow.