Awe man gie’s a break…
Psalm 23: 5 (NIVUK)
5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
“The title of today’s piece is an accurate reflection of my current, somewhat challenged existence. It never rains but it flippin’ pours and one disaster follows another with a seemingly endless flood. The only silver lining I currently see is that — by now — it’s all become a bit monotonous - amazing what you can adapt to right…”
At least this is what I said to my long suffering wife Jo-Anne the other day there. Now, by this point Jo had rather had enough of my self-imposed pity party and the detrimental effect it was having on my mental and physical wellbeing. She’d done kind, she’s done understanding and — bless her — she has a temper and when I sank into yet another description of the particular circle of hell I was in that day she slammed down her teacup and shouted “Enough — right — enough — I’ve had it. Have you any idea how much you are loved, any idea how many people are behind you, any idea how amazing you are? Stop it right now….” I won’t relay the next 30 minutes of diatribe because it would be unseemly and you’ve probably been at the wrong end of these conversations yourself.
Now, and this isn’t a secret, Jo is an Angel. An intemperate angel for sure but an angel nevertheless.
So like an angel — because she is a child of God — she prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
Then she gave me a cuddle and in so doing anointed my head with oil and my cup overflowed.
See, God’s always there, even when we aren’t listening and sometimes he just says — in my case through Jo (but your own image may vary here) STOP. And you do. All you need to do then
and be still
And know that he is God
God only wants good things for you — let’s all just stop messing it up by focusing on the bad.
Lord prepare the table before me,
Let me enjoy its richness and its finery in the dark hay barn of my life.
Let me eat and drink from the wine you poured out for me
So I can break down the walls, and let in the light of a sun I’d kept out.