Sparrow

I was late for church this morning. Curt no doubt thinks I just didn’t get it together early enough, that I lingered too long over coffee and prayer.

The truth is, well, this bird landed on the windowsill while I was in the bath. So close I could see his grey-feathered detail even without my glasses. The reflective window glass meant he was oblivious to his watcher.

I marvel at the birds on our thirteenth floor balconies. We live in the busiest part of this desert city amidst heavy traffic, construction, dust and skyscrapers. It is hot—105-120 degrees. So humid that our windows sweat and our glasses fog the instant we walk out of the building.

I don’t usually get such a close look at these hardy birds. This guy had a bug hanging out both sides of his beak, and something on the windowsill really had his attention. He pranced back and forth and pecked the crevices. Maybe there were more bugs. Maybe it was just fun.

“Consider the sparrow,” says Jesus. Small, fleeting, of no economic value. Yet God’s eye regards him, and his days unfold according to God’s purpose and time.

“Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—a place near Your altar, O Lord Almighty, my King and my God.” (Psalm 84:3)

Sparrows are content, cheerful. They don’t compare themselves to other creatures. They don’t accumulate a lot of stuff. They don’t worry about what has been or what will be. They don’t gripe, and they never ever focus on what they didn’t get done.

So—sorry, Curt. I made us late. My eye was on the sparrow. And I think Jesus may have been watching me.