You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. [Psalm 23:5 (CSB)]
The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ? [1 Corinthians 10:16 (CSB)]
While touring an historic house, the elaborately set dinner table reminded me of the large formal dinner parties we had in our younger (and more energetic) days. I’d start preparing the table in advance by adding extra leaves to the table, gathering the extra chairs, and ironing out the creases in the damask tablecloth. From the cupboard in the basement, I’d haul up the crystal salad plates, my mother’s Lenox china, and the hand-painted Bavarian service plates and Czechoslovakian dessert plates that were my grandmother’s. I’d spend hours polishing the silverware and serving pieces. The service plates were set out, the silverware laid, the crystal wine and water goblets carefully placed at each setting, and the napkins artfully folded. I’d set out the silver candlesticks, put in fresh candles, get flowers from the florist, and create what I hoped would be the perfect Martha Stewart-worthy table setting. There was plenty more work to do in the kitchen. I’d spend days perusing recipes, planning the menu, making lists, purchasing food, and preparing it all. I loved doing it because I loved the people for whom I did it. Nevertheless, as nice as my guests were and as much as they enjoyed themselves, I’m not sure they truly appreciated how much effort went into everything that on that table.
As I approached the Lord’s Table for communion last week, I wondered if I genuinely appreciate all that Jesus did to prepare His table of blessings for me. Do I truly value His gift of body and blood? It cost Him far more than a few days of work and the price He paid was greater than any I ever paid for lobster, prime rib, artisan cheese, or vintage wine. I thought of Him washing the feet of the disciples and of His anguish as he prayed alone in the garden. I thought of His disappointment at Judas’ betrayal, Peter’s denial, and the disciples’ desertion. I thought of His silence in front of Caiaphas and Pilate, His flogging and mocking at the hands of the Roman soldiers, His arduous walk to Golgotha, and His suffering on Calvary. He may have been God but He was in a man’s body and suffered and died as a man for you and for me. Yet, Jesus welcomes us, sinners all, to come to His table and share in His gifts.
There always was plenty of laughter at my table but coming to the Lord’s table is a sacred occasion and not to be taken lightly. While my guests didn’t have to make any preparations to come to our feast, we should prepare for the Lord’s feast by seriously examining ourselves and then by repenting and forgiving where repentance and forgiveness are needed. Coming to the Lord’s Supper is a solemn time to remember, reflect, recommit, and reconnect with Jesus.
I’d like to think my guests never left my table hungry or thirsty; nevertheless, I know they were hungry and thirsty by the next morning. When we come to Jesus’ table, our hunger and thirst will be forever satisfied because we are filled with the Bread of Life and the living water of the Lord!
Jesus Christ, host of this meal, you have given us not only this bread and cup, but your very self, that we may feast on your great love. Filled again by these signs of your grace, may we hunger for your reign of justice, may we thirst for your way of peace, for you are Lord forevermore. Amen. [Lutheran Book of Worship]
When writing about the Annunciation of our Lord, I came upon some articles by women who take offense at the story of Jesus’ conception. Interpreting Mary’s response as involuntary, they picture the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary as some weird sort of supernatural rape. This is inconsistent both with Scripture and God as we know Him. The Archangel didn’t say, “Surprise, you’re pregnant!” and leave nor did he physically impregnate her. Read the words as reported by Luke; Gabriel told Mary what would happen, not what had already occurred. It was only after Mary asked how the angel’s words would be fulfilled and Gabriel explained that the Holy Spirit would make it possible that she accepted God’s invitation to motherhood. It was then that the miraculous power of God—the “Most High”—came upon her.
Psalm 119, the longest of the psalms, is a song in praise of the Word of God. Since we don’t read this psalm in its original Hebrew, we fail to appreciate its intricate construction. Each of its twenty-two sections begin with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet in sequence. Each of the eight verses in those twenty-two sections begin with the letter that introduced it. For example, the first word of the first section begins with alef, as do the next seven verses. In the second section, every line begins with beth. The psalm continues that way up to the 22nd (and last) section where every line begins with the final letter of the Hebrew alphabet, tav. 
The celebration of the Lord’s Supper/Holy Communion/the Eucharist has been central to Christian worship since the early church. While Protestants think of the Eucharist as the sacrament commemorating the Last Supper with bread and wine, for Roman Catholics and some Orthodox, “Eucharist” specifically refers to the consecrated elements, especially the bread. How ever you define it, the word “eucharist” originally had nothing to do with this beautiful sacrament.
What would you do if you were six and your father said that your mom is in the hospital because she finds it hard to be happy and “did something stupid”? That question is answered in Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe’s one-act play, Every Brilliant Thing. In their play, that boy, now a grown man, tells the audience that he made of list of everything that was “brilliant” about the world—everything worth living for—and left it on his mother’s pillow. Reflecting a six-year old’s priorities, the list included ice cream, Kung-Fu movies, laughing so hard you shoot milk out your nose, burning things, construction cranes, and “me.” Although she returns the list with its spelling corrected, the boy’s mother never comments on it. Nevertheless, he keeps adding to his list. Although his mother eventually takes her life, the narrator tells how his list took on a life of its own and eventually saved him from his own depression and suicidal thoughts.
During that dark time about which I recently wrote, I was in intense pain and it seemed like God had turned His back on me. When I confided to a friend that God seemed deaf to my pleas, she asked the simple question, “Have you turned it over to the Lord?” I assured her I had but, as the day wore on, I wondered if that were true.
Devotions of the Heart 