For several weeks, we’ve been reflecting on the 23rd Psalm and have seen how David uses two images to illustrate God’s care: shepherd (1-4) and host (5-6). Today, we consider the third of four hospitable acts. We’ve seen the well-set table and the welcome expressed in fragrant oils. Now, we hear David’s grateful testimony to God’s goodness:
” . . . my cup overflows . . .”
The “cup” in Scripture generally typifies one of two things: judgment or blessing. The language sometimes evokes frightening images of divine wrath. In Isaiah 51, Jerusalem has “drunk to the dregs from the cup of God’s wrath”. In Jeremiah 25, the nations will “take the cup of the wine of wrath” and will “drink and stagger and be crazed”. In these instances, we look into the cup, wince and recoil. That’s not the picture in Psalm 23:5. Here the psalmist considers the generous blessing of God. Here, David looks at the cup, brimming with mercy. David’s overflowing cup images a greater-than-plausible kind of provision.
Not just good. Too good.
Not just kind. Too kind.
Not just full. Too full.
This is the grace that David celebrated in the 16th (“The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup.”) and in the 116th (“I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.”) And even more vividly, it is what Paul described in 1 Corinthians 10:16 when referencing Jesus’ sacrifice (“The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?”) This serves as the basis for our rejoicing.
As we’re making our way to the table at the end of worship on Sundays, we will very often sing these words together:
He drained death’s cup that all may enter in
To receive the life of God.
Jesus knew (better than anyone) what the cup of God’s wrath contained. Surely, this prompted his prayer in Mark 14. “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Our enjoyment of this overflowing cup of blessing is due to Jesus’ willingness to drink – for us — the full, straight, undiluted cup of God’s wrath. The reason that blessing spills out over the rim of our cup and trickles down our forearms is because Jesus “drained death’s cup” entirely.
Such mercy.
Were that everything – if the cross stood as the sole expression of God’s grace toward us — it would be unspeakably lavish, enough to drive us to dumbstruck astonishment into eternity. Yet he has given us more. So much more.
Color.
Humor.
Story.
Babies.
Music.
Shade.
Coffee.
Wild Trillium.
Sunshine.
Chocolate. (And about a trillion other common graces.)
So, notice. Let us see them. And celebrate them. Our failure to see the overflowing cup of God’s blessing changes nothing. It’s there. And it’s full.
Not just full. Too full.