A Table in the Presence of Grief

 A Table in the Presence of Grief

      There are certain pieces of furniture in your home that could tell a lot of stories if they could talk.  One of those pieces of furniture in our home was our kitchen table.  If you knew my late wife Tiffanie you knew that SHE loved home decor.  It was her hobby.  Her pictures were even used on Target's website and a few other large department stores.  Pretty cool, huh?  She dreamed of a white kitchen table.  She was saved money for over one year to buy it.  Now, let me be honest, I didn't want her to buy a white kitchen table. We still had young kids at home and well, needless to say, three young children and a white table don't mix very well.  But we bought the table and within a week one of the kids already stained the table.  Tiff was devastated.  Then a few months later the paint started chipping.  To say she was disappointed would be an understatement.  I came to love that table because a table meant family, it mean food, it meant community.  I'm not sure if it's this way with you, but we always sat in the same spot each time we had dinner.  We never changed.  We loved eating dinner together.  We talked about our day, we would make jokes, someone might or might not far and create quite a stir at the table.  Food would fall off the table and the dog would eat it.  We ate thousands of meals at that table.  But all of that changed after Tiffanie passed away.  I couldn't bear to sit and have dinner at the table.  What was once a regular event became a rarity.  I couldn't bear the pain of the table and the memories behind it.  We started eating in the living room while watching tv.  Please no judgment, I was a solo dad trying to raise three kids on my own.  Preparing a table became, well, painful after loss. 

      If you've ever experienced deep grief, you know that grief doesn't simply hurt. A  matter of fact grief has a way of changing the definitions of the words you thought you knew.  Honest.  Prior to losing Tiffanie I had no idea what pain, hurt, grief, loss, tears, and suffering meant.  O' I thought I did, but I had no idea.  The hurt from grief is also unique because it almost seems to follow you.  It's like the proverbial sign taped to your back that says 'kick me.'  You can be having an ordinary day when suddenly a memory brings the pain rushing back. You can be surrounded by people and still feel completely alone. You can laugh with someone and then feel guilty because the person you lost isn't there to laugh with you.  Grief has even taken away my mental stability at times.  I can be having a great day but not feel the joy.  I can hear a joke but maybe not laugh.  While grief can be a might teacher, it can also be a terrible master.  Add in the fact that death is a terrible enemy and that's a bad combination.

      When you lose someone you loved dearly you find their absence especially elevated with an empty chair.  But is the chair really empty?  Their presence is gone, but something else takes its place.  Grief.  Grief has a way of sitting down at the table with you.  You can't see it, but you can feel it.  Grief can be an unwelcome guest that reminds you of your absence and it does so in powerfully painful ways.  

   But, I think thats what makes Psalm 23:5 especially powerful.  David says "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”  We've probably read this verse before and to be honest, verse five and six are treated like second class citizens in comparison with verses one to four.  But there is something I want you to notice about this verse.  God doesn't say that He removes the enemies before He prepares the table.  The table is prepared in their presence.  Kind of startling isn't it.  If God is all powerful and can do anything, why not eliminate the enemy?  Why must they be sitting at the table?  What is the purpose to their presence?

      Grief can feel like an enemy sitting at the table.  Now, I'm not asking you to make peace with your grief, but I want you to consider for a moment that grief isn't the enemy.  Grief is the price we pay for loving someone so dearly.  Grief only becomes an enemy when we allow it to cause us to self destruct.  God doesn't have to remove the grief, despite that fact that we might beg Him to take the pain away.  But in the midst of grief sitting at the table God also places friends and allies.  Friends like grace and mercy.  As grieving people we sometimes we think we have to get past our grief before we can experience God's goodness again.  We tell ourselves (or other people tell us) when I'm not crying anymore, I'll be okay.  Or when I can think about them without hurting, I'll be okay.  Or when I stop feeling lonely, I'll be okay.  Or when I finally move forward, I'll be okay.

      But, and this is a major conjunction, what if God isn't waiting for the grief to disappear?  What if He is willing to meet you right in the middle of it?  Think about that for a moment.  Let that thought sink in.  Maybe take a moment and make a note about what you are thinking.  See, the Shepherd prepares a table while the enemies are still present.  That means you can experience God's goodness while you're still grieving.  You can laugh while still missing someone.  You can enjoy a meal while wishing they were sitting across the table.  You can have a good day and still have a broken heart.  You can smile without betraying the person you lost.  You can begin to live again without leaving them behind.  Joy is not a betrayal of grief.  And experiencing a moment of happiness doesn't mean you loved them any less.

      When David talks about enemies, we might naturally think about people who oppose us.  We might envision Goliath or some sort of invading army.  While grief itself isn't our enemy, it's presence can bring some dangerous enemies into our life.  Loneliness can be an enemy.  Maybe you are reading this and you aren't a widow or a widower, but let me invite you into a sacred space.  In my opinion, loneliness is the worst part of grief.  It is the enemy that assaults me the most often.  It is the one that screams the loudest and whispers the most often.  It strikes when I'm weak and when I'm strong.  He hit hard and fast, soft and slow.  It makes me feel so weak.  That can bring another enemy, fear.  Tiff's death has caused me to worry so much about me getting cancer that I goggle any small symptom wondering if I'm sick or dying.  Anger can be a very real enemy for a grieving person.  Regret, ugh, regret can be a huge one too.  There are so many more, things like unanswered questions, an empty spot beside you in bed, holidays where their presence will never be filled.  Even memories can feel like, well, they can feel like enemies too.  It's not because you don't treasure them.  You do treasure them AND adore them...but they remind us of a life that we no longer have.  A life that is now labeled in the past tense versus the future.

      I want to share another enemy with you.  One that makes Goliath look small and insignificant.  It is perhaps one of grief's greatest enemies, the fear that life will never be good again.  That fear can be incredibly powerful.  We wonder if we will ever laugh like we used to.  We wonder if we'll ever enjoy Christmas again.  We wonder if we'll ever feel normal.  We wonder whether happiness will always come with guilt attached to it.  Wonder quickly evolves into worry.  Those thoughts could consume us at our best but grief brings us to our worst.  Those thoughts probe our mind and we start believing those lies.

      But Psalm 23 gives us another picture.  The Psalm is about a a Shepherd.  I think we loss sight of the Shepherd in this image because we aren't in the field or the valley of the shadow of death.  Or....maybe we are.  Let me deviate as the Holy Spirit leads.  I find it unique that we just finished the valley of the shadow of death in verse four and then in verse five God prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies.  I'm not 100% sure, but what is the place where the table is set is still in the valley?  Not after we exit the valley, but right smack dab in the middle of it.  And it's there that the Shepherd sets the table.  Right there in the middle of the valley.  In the middle of the angst and loss, in the middle of the fears and doubts.  In the middle of darkness and tears.  Right there God sets a table.  A table whose very presence reminds us of our loss.  We could maybe even it call it the bitter table.  A table of bitterness...but that's not all.  It's a table of blessing.

      Who invites these enemies to gather around the table?  I know I surely wouldn't invite them.  The Shepherd does.  He invites fear, anxiety, worry, despair, depression, anger, doubt, regret, and a host of others to sit.  Imagine for a moment this scene.  We are seated with a host of enemies surrounding us.  Talk about an uncomfortable spot.  But here is the unique beauty of the text.  God prepares the table....but He also sits at the table with us.  The enemies become still and quiet as the Shepherd sits.  The same Shepherd who protected the sheep in the green pastures.  The same Shepherd who lead them by still waters.  The same Shepherd who restored their souls.  He sits at the table for two reasons.  First, to remind us that even in this "hellacious" place that He is present.  That He hasn't abandoned you.  But I think it does it for a second reason.  To remind the enemies, the ones that are seeking us and hunting us, the ones wanting to steal and to destroy that He is there too.  His very presence at the table reassures us and causes our enemies to tremble before His presence.

      When you're in the thick of grieving, God's provision may not look like some enormous miracle.  Sometimes the table is a friend who calls when you desperately need someone to talk to.  Sometimes it's a church member who remembers the anniversary of your loss.  Sometimes it's a child who climbs into your lap.  Sometimes it's a meal someone brings to your house.  Sometimes it's a song that reaches your heart at exactly the right moment.  Sometimes it's a quiet morning with your Bible open and enough strength to read one more page.  Sometimes it's a memory that makes you cry and smile at the same time.  Sometimes the table is simply the ability to get out of bed and make it through another day.  Those might not look like big moments, but we shouldn't overlook these moments.  Why?  Because the Shepherd is still preparing the table.

      David goes on to write that his cup was running over.  This may be difficult for a grieving person to hear.  It can almost be painful.  How can my cup be running over?  My cup feels dry and empty.  Heck, it feels like the cup is broken, shattered into thousands of tiny, irreparable pieces.  Your cup probably doesn't feel like it's running over.  You may even feel like you've had everything taken from you.  David isn't necessarily describing a life where everything is perfect.  He's describing a life where God's presence is greater than his circumstances.  Read that again.  

      One of the hardest things about grief is learning that you are allowed to live again.  I determined that I wasn't going to allow Tiffanie's death to be my death too.  At times I wished I had died instead of her.  Other times I wished I had died with her.  But over the course of times I've learned that I'm allowed to live again.  Not only am I allowed, but I should.  I should have a good meal, take a vacation, laugh, be with friends, enjoy my children, celebrate a birthday or holiday, look forward to tomorrow, smile, date again, get married again, enjoy intimacy again.  None of those things erase the person that we lost.  They don't diminish the love that we shared.  And it obviously doesn't mean that you are merely 'moving on.'  Instead, you are learning to carry their memory while continuing the journey of life with the Good Shepherd.

     I think that's the beauty of what the table represents.  It doesn't represent the end of grief, but the fact that God nourishes us in the midst of it.  He knows what you need and prepares a table, a table just for you.  He doesn't set the table when life makes sense, the enemies are gone, or when the pain has disappeared but instead He does it in the presence of it.  Friend, look for the table.  If you are grieving today, the thing you might need the most isn't for God to make everything better or just okay.  Maybe your prayer can be simply, "Lord, show me the table that You prepared for me today."  And then look for it.  It might be small, it might be easy to miss.  But He's setting a table for you. There is still hope, and grace, and love, and life.  How can we know that?  Because the Shepherd is there at the table.  He has prepared for you a table in the presence of your grief.  Sit at the table and bask in His presence and provision.