“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over”. (Psalm 23:5, KJV).

     Some of my fondest memories harken back to the times my wife’s family spent around the dinner table. The table to which I am referring dates back three-quarters of century. The top has since been refinished, although etchings of an old tracing wheel Cathy’s grandmother used are still visible. The table served as the workstation for tracing the pattern lines she used to make clothing for her children.

     The family table served many purposes. It was the arena that brought friends together for a game of pinochle. The winner was granted the privilege of holding onto a bottle of Canadian Club Whiskey as a tontine, only to be opened by the last surviving player.

     The table hosted no fewer than seventy-five Christmases that were punctuated by raucous refrains of The Twelve Days of Christmas. Countless choruses of “Happy Birthday” were sung. Incalculable helpings of Yorkshire Pudding were served.

     My first introduction to Cathy’s family occurred around the dinner table. Every meal began with a prayer from the Book of Common Prayer:

           Bless, O Lord, this food to our bodies and our lives to thy loving service,

I learned that there was always room for one more around the family dinner table. Everyone was welcome. In-laws. Outlaws. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Neighbors. College roomies and strays with no place to go for Thanksgiving. Yes, even Democrats.

     The table to which King David referred to in the Twenty-Third Psalm also conveys a gracious sense of hospitality. As an invited guest sat at the table, the host would offer the guest a cup of wine. Throughout the evening, the cup would be refilled by a wine steward. After a lengthy period, the guest would be cut off signaling that the time to leave had arrived.

     However, in such cases wherein the host was smitten with the guest, wine would be poured over the brim of the cup. The wine would flow onto the table and onto the floor. This symbolic gesture was a strong  invitation for the guest to stay. This subtle act was the host’s way of saying, “I want you to remain in my home, no longer as a guest, but as a member of my household.”

     This is how grace operates. God welcomes each of us to His table regardless of who we are, no matter where we’ve been, or what we’ve done. The verse that concludes the Twenty-third Psalm claims that God’s mercy follows us, pursues us, and pines for us. We do not pursue mercy. As the Christian rock group, Mercy Me, declares:

               Mercy came running

               Like a prisoner set free

               Past all my failures to the point of my need

               When the sin that I carried

               Was all I could see

               And when I could not reach mercy

               Mercy came running to me.

     Last Friday evening, our family witnessed my father-in-law’s homegoing. The table at which he sat for almost half a decade is being moved to our home. The table will remain in our family for it is more than an heirloom to those of us who remain in this life. Better still, it serves as a reminder that grace is greater than all our weakness. And while tears may fall from our eyes throughout this time of grief, God has granted us an assurance that the cup of hearts always will be brimming with joy. May this assurance be so for you, as well.