Here's how to find provision in the darkest valley

What makes a meal satisfying? I’ve been pondering this, and here’s my list of essentials:

1. Good food: While my wife likes something new each meal, I’m just fine with a handful of tried-and-true selections. Neither is better than the other. I’ve watched her be disappointed at new things. She’s told me I don’t know what I’m missing. We’ve both said, “I told you so.”

2. Good atmosphere: Serene surroundings tend to set all of us at ease. There’s a baseline level of peace and security we prefer to have in order to eat. The food can be wonderful, but disturbances and distractions around us can leave a terrible taste in our mouths.

3. Good company: Have you noticed the effect of others on our engagement and enjoyment of a meal? Often a terrible experience at a meal has to do with others being terrible to or around us.

I ponder this because as the psalm takes us along, we come across a strange sight: a table.

Last time I was in a field that could be considered a valley, I don’t recall a dinner table. It’s so…out of place. Based on my own list, this meal has a couple strikes against it:

• First, the setting and atmosphere. We’re in a valley. Not just any valley...the valley of the shadow of death. If a new restaurant in town opened and made this its name, are you really making reservations there? Of course not.

• Second, the company. David tells us our company: “You prepare a table before me, in the presence of my enemies.” How does someone feel at ease enough to eat when those who want their destruction linger around the table, always in view? Can you see where David’s taking this?

Look beyond your table for a moment

Think about the past couple years (saying this in late 2021).

Consider the local, national, and global settings. We’ve certainly experienced the shadow of this valley. We no doubt have some picture of enemy/enemies in mind. The truth is, this is the regular setting and company we’re faced with.

I suspect we’ve focused so much on the stuff outside our immediate table, we’ve overlooked our place setting, and the provision of the one that prepares it.

Now look at the provision at your place setting

The shepherd who's with us does two things:

1. "You anoint my head with oil"

Over and over, when oil is used in Scripture, we get the impression that it’s over and above the norm. An anointing with oil lifts the appearance, makes the face and head to shine in appearance. It prepares the recipient to go forth with a blessing.

Oil also served to protect the sheep.

Charles Slemming writes of shepherds in the middle east who applied oil to a sheep’s head that produced a smell that repelled the sheep’s natural enemies. But the shepherds would also pour a circle of oil around the small holes of the field that were the domain of vipers. When the snake’s smooth body tried to emerge from its hole to attack, the slick oil kept it imprisoned in its own domain underground.

2. "My cup overflows"

You know when you tell the waiter they can stop refilling your glass?

Now imagine they keep going. Water is pouring right over the edges. You take a drink, and they’re right there to pour it to overflowing again. Not only do you have all you need, but more. It’s not just the cup’s capacity that has been filled; it runs over with ample to spare. This is what you go forward with. Moving forward, he gives you enough that you have extra to give others.

Take an inventory of all that’s going on right now.

If all of this were a place to sit down and recline and rest, we likely wouldn’t choose it. The externals aren’t really ideal. But that doesn’t matter to the shepherd. Because his work isn’t handcuffed by obstacles, or unleashed by their absence.

It's a prepared table in the middle of the most chaotic of settings.

No matter what's going on around you, pay attention to what he's doing in front of you. He has given, is giving, and will continue to give. He gives so much, that you can overflow his gifts into the lives of others.

Come sit at the table.

We'll finish our walk tomorrow,

Nathan