Don’t Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”
Psalm 23:5
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Jesus has prepared a place for you and Him to be in a relationship. A place where you can come to Him and receive the truth of who He says you are. The trouble is that a third party is too often at our table. The enemy is constantly prowling around, waiting for an opening, an invitation from us to pull up a seat and steal, kill, and destroy us.
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Here’s the good news. Even though the enemy longs to sit at your table, our Good Shepherd has laid down His life to be the only one with a right to sit with us. We are so prized and valued by Jesus that He paid everything to be with us, and we have to ensure we don’t extend that same honor to the Enemy.

God does not need many words to change a life. Often, a short sentence from Him realigns our direction. Psalm 23 is one of those short words with long power. Most of us can quote the opening line,“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,” but we often carry a cross-stitch version of it in our minds: a soft image of Jesus holding a lamb, detached from real life. Psalm 23 is anything but sentimental. It was written by a shepherd who knew what it costs to lead, feed, protect, and provide for vulnerable sheep. When David calls the Lord his Shepherd, he is admitting need. Sheep don’t see well, don’t balance well, get stuck, wander, and make poor decisions. That’s not an insult; it’s honesty. The good news is that the Shepherd delights to be what we are not. He leads and feeds; He protects and provides.

To say “The Lord is my shepherd” is to accept an invitation. God offers to step into our real world and do for us what we cannot do for ourselves: “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake” (Ps. 23:2–3). Notice the verbs. He makes, He leads, He restores, He guides. We resist the idea that God would “make” us do anything, but what He makes us do is rest in good places. Left to ourselves, we burn out; under His care, we are restored. His guidance is not random. He leads us on the right paths that result in our good and His glory.

The psalm also refuses to pretend that life is easy. There are valleys of deep shadow. Yet even there, the focus shifts from talking about God to talking to Him: “You are with me.” The Shepherd carries a staff to lead and rescue, and a rod to defend against predators. Comfort comes from both: I am led and I am defended. I can sleep because He is vigilant; I can wake because He will lead again.

The most surprising line of Psalm 23 is verse 5: “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” We would prefer, “You prepare a table for me in your presence after you remove my enemies.” But God promises a feast in the middle of conflict, not after it. Why? Because His presence is not the reward for a trouble-free life; His presence is the provision in a troubled life. When God seats us at His table amid pressure, grief, criticism, or uncertainty, He is saying, “Sit. Eat. I am with you. I will anoint you. I will cause your cup to overflow.” Enemies get a front row seat to watch the Shepherd’s goodness, and we get the assurance that abundance does not wait for circumstances to change.

There is, however, a danger at the table. The enemy of our souls is bold enough to pull up a chair. He did it in Eden; he tempted Jesus in the wilderness; he will certainly try with us. He rarely arrives with threats. He starts with a conversation: “How’s life?” and then sells lies designed to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). Those lies usually sound like common sense: It’s better at another table. You are not enough. You aren’t going to make it. You’re surrounded and there’s no way out. Everyone is against you. When those lines begin to narrate our inner world, we have allowed the enemy a seat at our table. Our speech gives it away: “I don’t know if I’m going to make it.” But our Shepherd has never said, “I don’t know.” He has promised His presence through every valley and a destination beyond it.

Taking back the table begins with authority, not swagger, but the authority of Jesus, who through His cross and resurrection won victory over every lie. Scripture calls us to demolish arguments and take thoughts captive to obey Christ (2 Cor. 10:3–5). We cannot stop the enemy from prowling, but in Christ we can deny him a seat. Practically, that means locking our eyes on the Shepherd and filling our minds with His Word rather than wrestling endlessly with lies. We don’t win the mind’s battle by obsessing over what’s false; we win by feeding on what is true.

A simple practice helps. Name the lie and write it down. Then, above it, write God’s truth and live from the truth. Perhaps your old story says, “I’m defined by my scars; therefore I am a failure and should live in shame.” The gospel writes a new story over that: “I am defined by Jesus’ scars. I am forgiven and loved” (Rom. 8:1; John 20:27). Maybe your script says, “I can’t.” God’s Word replies, “Christ lives in me; He can” (Gal. 2:20; Phil. 4:13). Maybe you feel unwanted. Scripture answers, “He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world” (Eph. 1:4). Circle the new story. Cross out the old. Then speak the new story until it becomes the way you think and live.

This is not denial. The psalm does not minimize suffering. Grief is real, cancer is real, depression is real, betrayal is real. Psalm 23 simply maximizes God’s presence within those realities. When we fixate on the storm, our faces reflect the storm; when we fix our gaze on the Shepherd, our faces become radiant and unashamed (Ps. 34:5). Over time, people stop asking, “How is she so calm?” and start asking, “Who is she looking at?” The table brings us good, and the goodness brings God glory.

The Shepherd’s table also changes how we relate to those who oppose us. Abundance in the middle is not for hoarding; it’s a witness. God is not scarce. He is generous. When we sit with Him, we can extend kindness in hostile spaces, not because people deserve it but because our cup overflows. This does not erase the need for boundaries or justice, but it frees us from bitterness and retribution. The Shepherd handles the rod; we keep our eyes on the meal He’s set before us.

So how do we respond? Start today, not “after things calm down.” Sit with the Shepherd. Open Psalm 23 slowly. Where you hear the familiar words, listen for a fresh invitation: He makes me lie down. Am I resisting rest? He leads me. Am I insisting on my own path? He restores my soul. Where do I need restoration? He guides me in righteousness. Where am I compromising? Even though I walk through the valley. Where am I fearful? Your rod and Your staff comfort me. Do I receive both guidance and protection? You prepare a table before me. Will I sit and stay? You anoint my head with oil. Will I let Him mark me as His? My cup overflows. Will I live generously? Surely goodness and mercy. Will I expect His goodness all my days and forever?

If you recognize that the enemy has been speaking at your table, use the authority of Jesus to close that seat. Speak it aloud if you need to: “In Jesus’ name, I refuse these lies. I belong to the Good Shepherd. I will feast on His Word and follow His lead.” Then rewrite one narrative today. Trade “I’m defined by my scars” for “I’m defined by His.” Trade “I can’t” for “Christ in me can.” Trade “I’m alone” for “You are with me.” And take the next right step a Shepherd would show a sheep: rest where He says rest, move where He says move, and keep your eyes on Him.

The promise at the end of the psalm is as strong as the line at the beginning: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Ps. 23:6). Goodness and mercy are not occasional visitors; they are permanent companions for those who sit at the Shepherd’s table. The valley is not the destination; the house of the Lord is. Until then, the table is set right in the middle. Sit. Eat. Lift your eyes. Take back your table in Jesus’ name.