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Verse(s): Psalm 23:5
You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.You honor me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings.
You and the Shepherd have walked miles and miles through the dark valley. Though you haven’t made it out yet, you’re learning to trust Him a little bit more with every step you take. He beats back the dark, He keeps you safe, He offers you comforting words of reassurance and love.
Suddenly, you come upon a table set for two. The table is covered with gorgeous purple linen, lit by candlelight, and filled with a spread of food more abundant than you’ve ever seen before. It’s the only bright spot amidst fathoms of surrounding darkness.
What is this? you ask the Shepherd.
He smiles softly. A feast. I’ve prepared it just for us.
But, you protest, I haven’t made it out of the valley yet.
Yes, the Shepherd says. I know.
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Sometimes we forget that joy and sorrow can coexist.
The beautiful truth of this verse is that God doesn’t wait until we’re out of the valley to bless us. He doesn’t wait until we’ve reached some imagined there, some self-imposed end point, to pour out His anointing oil on us. To feast with us.
It seems sort of ridiculous, doesn’t it? Just outside the warm light of the table, the wolves howl, the darkness presses in. Anxieties and fears and worries war with each other in our heads. All we want is to lie down, close our eyes, and drift into easy, dreamless sleep. And the Shepherd chooses now to pause and…eat?
Yes.
Charles Spurgeon, a 19th preacher, writes of this verse: “Nothing is hurried, there is no confusion, no disturbance, the enemy is at the door and yet God prepares a table, and the Christian sits down and eats as if everything were in perfect peace.”
We may not feel like we deserve such a feast, such a respite in the midst of chaos— especially if we’ve wrestled with something for an extended period of time. I’ve been struggling with this for too long, we think. I should’ve gotten over it by now. Surely God’s sick of me and my problems.
Please hear this: He’s not, nor will He ever be.
Instead, He invites us to sit with Him. To breathe and to eat in perfect safety. He’s done all the work. He prepared the food, He set the table. We can’t take credit for any of it; we contributed nothing. But that’s exactly the point: it’s His goodness, His mercy, His unconditional love for us that delights in giving us good things, even in the valley.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings. In the same way that David’s Shepherd blessed and honored him, David blessed and honored his Shepherd, thanking Him for all the gifts he’d been given.
As you lie down to sleep tonight, think about all the blessings your Good Shepherd has given you, as a reminder of His ever-present faithfulness through the dark.
