“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” (Psalm 23:5 KJV)
In October, making an apple tart is a way of setting a table for those I love. In the 23rd Psalm—the one that begins, “The Lord is my shepherd”—in that psalm is a small phrase that’s captured me in recent years: “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” I thought of it last summer when I set the breakfast table each morning for my 16-year-old niece. She was staying with us for an intensive summer of ballet. It came to mind as I set the table for my heartbroken son, grieving from a failed marriage. As God’s image bearers, we prepare a table for those we love, and we do so in the presence of spiritual foes who seek to harm, distract, or rob them.
Lingering at the table over good food strengthens not only our loved ones’ sense of well being, but also their sense of place. Here, at this table, food was prepared for them. Not slapped down in a hurry, not pulled out of paper bags. In the midst of their struggles and challenges, a follower of Jesus prepared a place of beauty, rest, and nourishment.
My autumn ritual begins with apples from the North Carolina mountains. I roll out a traditional butter crust, sprinkle a layer of Gruyere cheese over the bottom, and then pile on the fruit. A lattice top is embellished with oak and maple leaves cut from extra dough. Brushed with an egg wash and sprinkled with chunky sugar, the tart browns up to a shimmery finish.
One doesn’t need to go to these lengths to set a table. But however we prepare a table for others, in doing so we become like Christ in our broken world. As John wrote, “we live like Jesus here in this world” (I John 4:17 NLT). Those who come to a table are hungry. We share the Bread of Life given to us.
By faith we also point to the table to come. “You will eat and drink at my table in my kingdom,” our Lord said (Luke 22:30 ICB). It was the night of his arrest, and he ate dinner with friends in a city filled with unrest. Soon, enemies would take him to a cross.
Preparing a table for others creates a place for God’s work. We are not just preparing food, but we prepare the way of the Lord. To echo Isaiah’s vision, valleys of despair are lifted up and mountains of trouble are made low. Uneven ground is smoothed out and rough places are cleared. Isn’t this how we feel when we come into someone’s home and take a seat at a table prepared for us? We take our time talking and eating, enjoying one another. Our burdens seem lighter when we leave.
To light candles, set out a bowl of the garden’s last flowers, and bring an apple tart to the table is to show Christ. He is the beauty, rest, and nourishment that we need. “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger” (John 6:35 ESV). He satisfies both body and soul.
Oh Lord, thank you that you are a God of tables. Thank you for the table that once held the Bread of the Presence, with a blue tablecloth, plates, and drinking vessels. In the old tabernacle, it showed you were present with your people. Thank you that your beloved Son spent a great deal of time at tables. Thank you that at the communion table, the bread of his presence is shared.
Thank you, Christ, for speaking of your table to come. I long to sit at your table, at the marriage supper of the Lamb. Thank you for preparing a table for me, this day, in the presence of unseen enemies who would harm me. You are fearless! This world paces restlessly around me as I come to sit with you.
Forgive me that I am so quick to hurry others through the day. Forgive me that I give so little thought to setting a table for those I love. Grant me insight, creativity, and love to prepare a table.
I humbly ask you to multiply its effectiveness—to lift up valleys, make mountains low, straighten what’s crooked, and smooth out rough places. Grace happens at your table, Lord. Bring your grace to mine.
Amen.