A few weeks ago, I ambled along this path in the Black Forest above Kandern, Germany. The spring weather was gorgeous! Wildflowers peeked through foliage. Fresh forest aromas wafted around me. The birds sang more loudly than I’ve ever heard birds sing.

But I didn’t notice any of it.

My mind was elsewhere, flipping through a Rolodex* of worries. (*Younger people, google it. 😉 ) Blocked ministry projects, worrisome health symptoms, a beloved church community walking through challenges, friends facing trials I can’t fix… and probably half a dozen other things I can’t now remember.

I kept walking. And worrying. Until, somewhere along the way (I’m not even sure at what point), I gradually noticed something else — some familiar words rising, like a song, behind the cacophony of worries. Quietly, but persistently increasing in “volume”.

You prepare a feast for me, in the presence of my enemies.
You prepare a feast for me, in the presence of my enemies.
You prepare a feast for me, in the presence of my enemies.

Finally, the words broke to the front of my awareness and I stopped short as it hit me: “Wait. I’m walking through the Black Forest — through the Black Forest, for crying out loud! You’ve prepared this feast right here in front of me, but I’m missing it because I’m so distracted by these other things. Lord, forgive me!”

Slowly moving forward again, I began to really see the flowers, hear the birds, marvel at the beauty, exult in the Creator.

Did the causes of worry go away? No, they are real things.

But the worry about them is an enemy. Distracting me from my Shepherd.

Trying to make me forget that He is right here, rod and staff in hand.

Trying to keep me from enjoying the feast He has laid out for me right now. Not later, when the enemies are gone. But right now, in front of those enemies. Because their presence doesn’t worry him One. Little Bit.

The question is: Will I pull up and tuck in to the table?

Will you?