He prepares a table...

I am still amazed when I recall some of my experiences with God. Experiences that violated prior beliefs, and confronted my ideas of what I thought God was like.

How was it possible that I was hearing Him, being fed by His words, while still habitually using drugs? How, and why, did I hear and receive some of the most in depth, amazing, and freeing truths and revelations while I was “living in sin”; while I was a prisoner to depression, to anxiety, to fear, and now also to drugs?

As I try to conceive the answers to these questions I see a story unfold in my mind. During that dark and depressive time in my life God had definitely been there. He showed up and walked down, in the middle of the darkest darkness, right into the middle of the bloodiest battle. In the middle of the firefight, among the giants, the flying arrows, the screaming, the yelling, and the taunting.

Nothing could harm Him. Nothing frightened Him. Not the giants, the weapons, the wounds, or sins. Not the drugs, or the demons; nothing disturbed Him. Not at all.

In the middle of battle, in the midst of my enemies, God arrived. As He walked calmly through the battlefield His hand reached out toward His side. He grabbed a tree. A tree that was larger, taller, and much heavier than any of the giants.

He made eye contact with the largest of the giants as His hand gripped the tree. Then, mockingly, He ripped it from the ground with one hand. The giant sequoia, roots and all, were ripped from the earth.

His eyes came off of the giant, who now cowered. The Father held the tree in his right hand. He slowly inspected it.

The enemies, now in panic, hurled weapons, rocks, and burning tar at me. God was not moved. He only held and inspected the tree. He was, oddly, very interested in this tree. More interested in the tree than the battle.

The enemy was confused, so was I. If God had shown up now it must be because of the battle, but why wasn’t He fighting? What was He doing? What’s He waiting for?

I knew He could wipe the enemy out and end all this. He could even wipe me out; I deserved it anyways. Yet, God acted as if the enemy, the terror, their weapons, their curses, were nothing; as if they weren’t even present. He paid them no mind.

Suddenly, God transfigured into a Carpenter with long hair and a robe. At his side were the tools of a carpenter. He began to cut the gigantic tree.

Did God not see what was going on here? Did He get distracted that there was a need here? I had a need. For Him to save me from this bloody war. My life was at stake. Why didn’t God transfigure into a warrior? Why didn’t He transform into someone with a warriors helmet, armor, and tools of war.

The carpenter - Jesus - cut, carved, and shaved the tree. He obviously wasn’t thinking the same thing I was. There was a battle going on, yet He was making something out of a tree.

The enemy was now trembling, scrambling, but still trying to throw anything they could at me, and at the carpenter. They pushed me to the ground and tried to cover me with leaves and sticks. My hands were still tied behind my back.

God was not distracted or disturbed. His focus, and His carpentry, were precise. This seemed to make the enemy even more upset, more confused. I sensed their fear, even their thoughts. They knew, “He must be up to something. What’s He gonna do? What kind of trick is He gonna pull this time?”

As the enemy tried to make last effort attempts, trying to end my life before God acted, they hurled a large ball of hot tar toward my slumped form on the ground. At that very second, God, in such smooth motion, reached his hand back while still staring at His carpentry work. The tar hit and landed on the palm of his hand.

He moved his hand back toward his woodwork, rubbing the tar on four separate pieces that He had cut from the wood. It was as if He had asked for glue, and the enemy provided glue. Yet, it was meant to destroy me.

Before the tar dried He placed the four wooden pieces into another piece. What was He doing? I lifted my head, trying to balance on my stomach, arms still tied behind my back. I arched upward to see, while shaking my head trying to get leaves and sticks off of my face.

As I got a view of the Carpenter once again it appeared that He was nearly finished. He picked up the wooden piece that He was creating. What was it?

He lifted His created piece and began to turn, facing toward me. He walked His wooden creation toward me. My neck and back were tiring. I could barely hold my head up to see Him, or what He had created.

As my muscles fatigued, my head thumped back into the sticks and leaves. Then, I heard another thump right beside me. It made the enemies startle and jump.

Suddenly my hands were loosened. Something grabbed the back neckline of my shirt and lifted me from the pile I had been buried under. It was the Carpenter. He raised me up. He smiled at me.

It seemed odd to me, yet relieving nevertheless. It was like a special forces soldier rescuing me. Except He wasn’t wearing armor, and we weren’t rushing to go anywhere. His face, His smile, His presence gave me so much peace. I was rescued, but I hadn’t moved. I felt safe, but I was still in the middle of the battlefield.

The enemy was furious. “You can’t do this! This is our camp! He is our prisoner!” They yelled with all of their anger at the carpenter.

He didn’t even look in their direction. He kept looking at me, just smiling. Then He quietly spoke to me. “This was their camp, but it’s mine now. You were their prisoner, but now you belong to me. Don’t worry about them. Look, I made you something.”

He motioned His hand toward His wooden creation. What had He created? I now saw it. A TABLE!

Psalm 23:5 “You set a table for me right in the presence of my enemies.”

Jesus laughed. I was speechless. He wiped some more debris off of me. He told me, “We have a long journey ahead of us. But for now, let's celebrate. Let's feast! This is your rescue. I’ve prepared a table for a large meal. Let's get you strong again.”