His Table Psalm 23:5 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

I have learned to always sit at the table with God.

Not because I am perfect.

Not because I have mastered faith or memorised the right prayers.

But because I know what it feels like to eat alone—to nourish myself on hope without Him, to try to sustain a life on my own understanding and find myself hungry for something deeper.

So, I set my table differently now.

I pull out a chair for God before I pull one out for anyone else. I let Him sit at the head—not as an authority I fear, but as a presence I trust.

He is there in the quiet mornings, in the tears I don’t explain, in the gratitude that rises without words, and in the ache that still hasn’t found its answer.

Because when God is at the table, nothing has to pretend.

The laughter is real.

The silence is safe.

The truth can breathe.

And I’ve learned this about my own heart: the table He shares with me is not crowded.

Not everyone belongs there.

Not because they are unworthy—but because this table requires reverence.

My only expectation for those who wish to sit with me is not perfection, not polished faith, not matching beliefs or matching language. It is simply this: that they know God in some way, that their soul has reached for Him, that their heart has been touched by something holy.

I don’t care how they met Him. In a church or in a storm. Through tradition or through brokenness. In whispered prayers or desperate cries. I don’t care how deep they think their faith is, or how new, or how unsure.

I only care that God lives somewhere inside them—that He has a seat in their life, even if it’s tucked in the corner, even if it’s still being made room for.

Because faith is not measured by how much we pour into God, as if love were a transaction, as if devotion were a tally. Faith is simply this: that He remains in your heart through everything life is.

Through joy and disappointment.

Through abundance and lack.

Through clarity and confusion.

Through seasons when prayer feels like fire and seasons when it feels like ash.

I have learned that the deepest faith often belongs to those who carry God quietly—not loudly proving Him but gently living with Him. Those who let Him soften their edges, steady their reactions, anchor their love.

This is why I sit at the table with God first. Because He teaches me how to stay.

How to listen.

How to love without control.

How to offer a seat without forcing someone to take it.

And if you sit with me, you don’t have to impress God—you only have to honour Him. You don’t have to know all the answers—you only have to know where your heart turns when life begins to shake.

This table is not about religion.

It is about relationship.

It is about shared reverence, shared humility, shared understanding that life is too sacred to live disconnected from the One who breathes meaning into it.

So, I will continue to set my table this way.

With space for God.

With room for grace.

With chairs for those whose hearts know His presence, however quietly, however imperfectly.

Because when God is at the table, everything that is meant to remain will stay.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Psalm 23:5

Lord,

Thank you for always meeting me at the table—in my honesty, in my becoming, in my waiting.

Teach me to never crowd you out with fear or expectation, and help me keep my heart open, reverent, and grounded in you.

Guide me in who I invite into my life, not with judgment, but with discernment.

Let my connections be rooted in truth, humility, and love—not perfection, but presence.

May I always remember that faith is not about performance but about carrying you in my heart through every season.

Stay with me, Lord, and help me live in a way that makes room for you at every table I sit at.

Amen.

His Table Psalm 23:5 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

His Table Psalm 23:5 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.