Of all the most beloved scriptures in the bible, none is more recognized than the first line of the 23rd
Psalm. “The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want.” This line has been uttered from fox holes in
bloody war battles, from ambulance stretchers, from jail cells, from school buildings, from lonely
beds, and hands holding empty checkbooks. I love this line of scripture, but further in this Psalm is
a line that hovers over fear. It taunts, and dares fear to rear its head.
“You prepare a table before me in the
presence of my enemies.”(vs. 5)
I used to think
enemies were political fights between countries, but now I realize it’s more
personal. We face enemies each moment we
breathe. The noise we hear in our head
that tells us we can’t change; we won’t grow; we will fail. The thieving stabs Satan thrashes to bloody
our families, relationships, dreams, and health. The lost hope of addiction, procrastination,
abuse, and dull neglect. These are
enemies of the worst kind. Enemies that
torture with a low grade temperature that spirals to heat rash.
The power of this
verse lies in the fact that God Himself leads us to a dressed table. He pulls out the seat and places an
embroidered napkin into our laps as He pushes the chair in. He lights exquisite candles that cast a
mellow glow over the table as the polished silver begs to be placed between our
fingers. A plate sits before us, clean
and unsoiled, like the spirit within us refreshed by the cross.
Calm and sure, God
sets this table while the screams of our enemies blare. Smack in the heat of
the hiss and snarl; right in the center of the terror; He sets a table for
us. He isn’t shaken. He’s the essence of peace.
One of the first
times I shared this concept I had about 165 ladies stand up and walk to the
back of the room where I was teaching. I
asked for a volunteer that I gently led to a seat at a table while everyone
circled around. The table was draped
with a soft green cloth and etched glass candlesticks. Strings of clear beads sparkled like jewels
in a crown as I silently lit the candles and placed the cloth napkin in her
lap. As we looked at the beauty of the
table, I reminded the ladies that this is what God beckons us to. We joined
hands and bowed our heads together to soak up that moment and pray. As women began to pray I could hear the soft
rain of tears. Our prayers began as
hushed praises, and grew to bold pronouncements of God’s goodness. One woman prayed for her wayward daughter
while another moaned over the loss of a son.
Another woman shouted that she would no longer fear the co-workers that
spoke poorly of her, while another broke into a verse of Amazing Grace that we sang sweetly together. All of a sudden I realized that there were
not only gentle tears being shed, but heaving sobs. It was as if the Holy Spirit washed over that
scene with a cloth so authentic it couldn’t be mistaken for anything but
glory.
In the week that
followed I received dozens of comments: “I’ve never felt the Lord like
that!” “His presence was oozing from the
walls.” “What a time of healing and
grace.” Proof that even though our enemies are in the midst, they aren’t
invited to sit at the table. God’s
reserved that spot for you.
I once heard Dr.
Larry Crabb say that though we are invited to sup with the King, we often crawl
under the banquet table and beg for crumbs like dogs. Not in this scene. We are seated at the table and God is our
waiter. He’s died to serve us.
Why does this
demand bravery? Isn’t God the brave one
to set our table in the midst of enemies?
What’s brave about simply sitting down?
Bravery sits with valor. Though our hands and feet feel like running ,
we sit at the table, posture straight, and let God prepare. We aren’t setting the table ourselves, we
aren’t crawling around under it, and we aren’t cowering in another room. We gallantly rest in the chair and let God
prepare the table we are meant to dine at.
Won't you dine with me sweet friends?
Blessings!
Gari
(This is an exerpt from my upcoming book Spirit Hunger released in early October)
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