I’m a story kind of gal.
I understand life best through stories.
Donald Grey Barnhouse reportedly said, “All of life illustrates bible
doctrine.” I have always taken that to
mean that everything I experience in life can be put into story form to
illustrate something about scripture.
The flaw in this reasoning is that my story will always be colored by my
understanding, or lack, of the reality of what scripture actually says.
For a good part of my life, I read bible stories and most
other stories, with a moral point of view.
I was either the hero or antihero.
The story illustrated the kind of person I should or should not be but,
either way, it was all about me. Then,
when the gospel found me, I suddenly saw that I had been reading those stories
all wrong. The gospel taught me that
Jesus is the hero of every story. Even
the best of human beings can be only a dim light pointing to the brilliant light
of Christ. The only parts that were
about me were the anti-hero parts, and their purpose was not primarily to show
me how to be a better person, but to open my eyes to the kind of person I
really am and, thus, to my need of a savior.
We have a recliner that sits right in front of the picture
window in our living room, but we seldom sit in it, preferring the sofa or the
loveseat. The other day, however, I
plopped down in the chair and looked out, and there, right at eye level, was a cardinal sitting in a nest, looking back at me.
It was a relatively small bird, and, because it was hot outside, its
beak was open. “Oh, it’s a baby,” I
thought, “and it’s probably waiting for the parents to come feed it.
I was sad that I had missed the entire chapter where the egg
or eggs hatched and where the babies cheeped incessantly and the poor parents
had to make endless trips to meet the demands for food. I was glad, though, that I would at least get
to witness the last few days of this little one’s time in the nest. It definitely looked ready to leave at any
time. I did see a male cardinal zoom past a few times, but never witnessed the
bird being fed.
Then, a day or so later, I peeked out the window and saw
that the nest was empty. I don’t know a
lot about birds, except their habits at my bird feeding station, but my
husband, who knows a bit more than I do, informed me that once birds leave the
nest, they do not return, so I resigned myself to the fact that the baby was
gone. However, later that day, the baby
was back in the nest. My husband was
surprised, but not too worried. I, on
the other hand, immediately assumed that something was wrong. The baby just sat there, with it’s mouth
open, waiting, and as far as I could tell, no parents were coming to feed
it.
By then I had done some reading on birds leaving the nest,
and I now knew this was highly unusual.
I began checking throughout the day.
Sometimes the bird was gone, and my hopes would go up, but it always
quickly returned. I confess that I sometimes stood near
the window and talked to the bird, who couldn’t really hear me, but always
looked right at me as I spoke. “What are
you doing,” I asked. “Are you okay? You really need to learn to feed yourself
now. It’s pretty clear that your parents
are finished raising you. You won’t last
long if you keep coming back here and sitting in the nest all day.”
You can easily see how my advice to the bird and my penchant
for stories that illustrate bible doctrine was lending itself perfectly to the
moral storyline: "God has given us
everything necessary to succeed in the Christian life, but we can’t expect him
to baby us forever. There comes a time
when we each must learn to fly and take
responsibility for our own spiritual lives.
We need to stop returning to our little nests and go out into the world
sharing what we have learned." Right?
But, remember the flaw, that my story will always be colored
by my understanding, or lack, of reality?
After several anxious days, I had a sudden shift in my
understanding. “Wait a minute,” I said
to the bird, “What if you’re not a baby who won’t leave the nest? What if you’re actually a small mother bird
sitting on your eggs?” The cardinal
stared back at me.
It has been about a week now. The small mother bird sits vigilantly in her
nest, leaving only briefly to get food.
Yesterday, she and the male cardinal valiantly chased off a flock of
birds who dared to land in the tree. She
is protecting those eggs with her life.
The baby birds inside those eggs are contributing nothing to their
growth and safety. Their nurture and
care is total. And, even after they
hatch, their every need will be met. The
babies will still be utterly dependent.
I was reading the story wrong. It wasn’t about me and my responsibility, or
you and yours. As always, it was about
God—Father, Son and Holy Spirit—who incubates us, protects us, nurtures us and
nourishes us. It is about our utter
helplessness and vulnerability, and how our needs are abundantly met through
his provision, not our own.
How precious is
your
Steadfast love, O
God!
The children of
mankind
Take refuge in the
shadow
Of your wings.
They feast on the
Abundance of your
house,
And you given them
drink
From the river of
your delights.
Psalm 36:7-8
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