Now for something a little different. Some of you know I have a thing for bird photography—nature photography in general, really. It may be a hobby, but I cannot overstate what it’s done for my soul. I have discovered a healing in it that’s hard to put into words.
It started with a simple bird feeder in our backyard years ago (circa 2015). Over time that feeder attracted as many as fifteen different varieties of colorful songbirds to our yard. At its zenith our backyard not only became a sanctuary for birds but a quiet sanctuary for my soul.
Still grieving the loss of our only child, and respiting from massive health issues that required years of rehabilitation, I sought refuge in the backyard by watching (and listening) to “my” birds. It may have only been my imagination, but I was certain the trees came alive with the sounds of chatting songbirds every time I rolled out onto our back patio. Birds are very smart, you know. Undoubtedly they chittered on about the old guy and their supper.
Early on, when it seemed like birdwatching was becoming more than just a hobby of mine, I asked Sandy what she thought about my buying a camera to photograph and post “my” birds on social media. Sandy’s first reaction was a good natured laugh.
“Are you sure? I mean, I’ve seen some of the photos you’ve taken with the phone,” she chortled playfully. “More than a few have our heads cut off.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Anyway, I could learn. Oh, and it so happens Amazon is having a sale on cameras this week…”
That conversation sparked my journey through a range of cameras, from an entry-level Nikon to Canon, then an upgraded Canon, and finally back to Nikon. I’d love to own a mirrorless someday, but that’s not financially feasible.
While I don’t get out with my camera quite as often as I used to — or as often as I’d like — I still can’t help myself from mentally framing a shot when I spot a bird out in the wild of suburbia.
Here are a few shots that I’m pretty happy to have in my camera roll, some new, some taken quite early on. If you’ll indulge me, I’ll just leave these with you for now.
Male Cardinal (taken in the early days)Bacopa, early photoRed-breasted Nuthatch, early photoA family of Mallard ducksHobbs Farm, Carrollton, GAAdolescent Muscovy DuckAnhinga, Kapok Park, Clearwater, FLBluebird, Carrollton GreenbeltGreedy squirrel in a neighbor’s treeIbis, Largo, FLBackyard, Douglasville, GA, early photoBrown-headed Nuthatch, early photoGreat Egret, Venice Audubon Rookery, Venice, FLOld Sugarlands Trail, Gatlinburg, TNScarlet Macaw, Busch Gardens, FLBrown Thrasher, Douglasville, GA, early photoJohn Chestnut, Sr. Park, East Lake, FLFledged Carolina wren, early photoMorning Glory Leaf, early photoHobbs Farm GreenbeltOne of my favorite (early) healing trails: Florence Rd Trailhead, Hiram, GARed-shouldered Hawk, Silver Comet Trail, Powder Springs, GAMilk thistleTufted Titmouse, early photoYellow-billed Stork, Zoo TampaMallard duckCanadian goslingsHighbush blueberryTri-colored Heron, Kapok Park, Clearwater. FLSilver Comet Trail in Autumn, Floyd Rd Trailhead, Mableton, GAIbis, Fort Mose, St. Augustine, FLOsprey, Weedon Island Preserve, St. Pete, FL (with Hurricane Helene just offshore)
One of my favorite theologians, John Stott, was an avowed birder. Of the estimated 9,000 species of birds in the world today, Stott claims to have spotted 2,500 in his 87 years. He first developed a love for birdwatching by taking long walks with his dad. “Close your mouth and open your eyes and your ears, son,” his father instructed him.
He found “the highest possible authority” for his hobby in the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus tells us to “look at the birds of the air” (Matthew 6:26). He says that, in basic English, Jesus is telling us to “watch birds” and he points out that the Greek verb used means “to fix the eyes on or take a good look at.”
I believe I’ll keep on doing that until the day I die, with or without a camera. I’ve already asked the Lord for a thriving bird sanctuary in the new heavens and new earth, and I have little doubt my Father will oblige. I know I won’t get bored.
They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest.
Psalm 126:6
The Bible isn’t a guidebook, it is a life book. It’s not a collection of principles to live by, but life-giving truth to rest in.
With refreshing transparency, Andrée Seu Peterson confessed her once weak-kneed approach to scripture during a particularly painful season of grief. While “grousing” she read from another writer who leaned hard into the Word of God in her own similar season of trial.
In her book Won’t Let You Go Unless You Bless Me, Andrée Seu said she was more prone to “pursue minimum Christianity: saved by the blood, but entitled to grouse.” Patti McCarthy Broderick, however, believed when the Bible said ‘suffering produces character and character hope,’ it means that suffering produces character and character, hope.’*
Andrée Seu:
I, on the other hand, have interposed a baroque system of hermeneutics between the Bible and my life. I have seminary training. Unlike simple people who obey the Bible because they don’t realize how complicated it is, I find ambiguity in every verse. I don’t obey scripture, I discuss it.
She and Broderick had both heard the same statistics and psychological findings regarding the ‘natural’ course of grief and the amount of time needed to ‘process’ it. “I went with the statistics and gave myself permission to be as bad as I wanted to be. She, more simple-minded, files the following report: ‘So I chose instead to bank my life on scripture being true, and I was not going to let even well-meaning Christians talk me out of it’…
Of Broderick, Andrée Seu said, “She took the Bible as practical…She made a conscious choice to trust in God, to take his word as truth, to see opportunity, and to wear his praises publicly on her lips. And she did not find him disappointing.”
It’s necessary to draw a distinction here between distrustfulwhining and trusting God even as we grieve. Some sorrows run so deep they may take years to heal. But at the heart of Psalm 126 is a promise that will never disappoint.
jerald
I still recall my friend Jerald’s beautiful exposition of this verse. Jerald served as my right hand man for several years when I was pastor in Douglasville, Georgia. I remember his teaching as if it was yesterday.
Picture it: God directs a farmer to take the precious seed, the last seed in the barn, and plant it in the dry soil of his field. It hasn’t rained for weeks.
What? Waste my seed? Why would I do that? How will my family survive?
See him as he kneels in the dust, taking the last of the seed and putting it into the dry ground. He’s risking everything on God’s coming through for his starving family. Tears fill his eyes as he surrenders to the soil, praying with uncertainty. He looks up at the sky. No clouds. He writes his sweaty brow. The seed does no good in his hands, so he presses it into the hard-packed earth.
The next week he hears thunder. He rushes outside and sees dark clouds filling the sky! Torrents of rain wash down on the farmer’s fields. The ground is suddenly bathed in precious streams of living water, as valuable to him as if he discovered gold.
He had wept when he planted the last of the seed but now he rejoices because he knows the Almighty has heard his cries and has seen his sacrifice. The farmer now laughs as he stands under the showers with arms raised to the sky…
I sat by Jerald’s hospice bed one Sunday morning when he quietly slipped off into eternity. Marie, his wife (and one of my regular readers!), joined me in singing as many verses as we could remember of Leaning On The Everlasting Arms as we kept vigil. Somewhere in the middle of the hymn, Jerald left this earthen sod.
In in his lifetime Jerald wept much because of cancer, but Marie and I were witnesses to the exact moment when her husband heard God’s gentle thunder inviting him Home. He took flight from his sick bed to where the fields of grace are always green, always growing, always lush with crops. I believe Jerald was laughing when he saw Jesus.
those who dream
Beloved, one day your soul’s deepest cries will be heard and you will be as one of those who dream about reaching the crest of the last hill after a long wilderness journey. Every thorn and desert, each and every stream of bitter water, and all the giants who towered over you and made you feel weak and unprotected, they will all be behind you, drowned in a sea of forgetfulness.
Oh, but beloved, it’s not a dream. It’s a promise for us too, not just for an ancient people who were just like us. Trust the Almighty Tear-Wiper. You will not find Him disappointing.
Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!
Psalm 126:5
One final word: this promise is not merely for those who cry in this life, but for those who are willing to sow their seed — trusting, believing, hoping — in the midst of their tears. They will be the ones dancing in the rain.
Selah, beloved.
*from her book He Said, “Press”: Hearing God Through Grief by Patti McCarthy Broderick
I’ve begun rereading Philip Yancey’s Disappointment With God (highly recommend). His writing style has always appealed to me but his daring insights catch me out even more. Try this one on for size:
If you read Genesis in one sitting, you cannot help noticing a change in how God related to his people. At first he stayed close by, walking in the garden with them, punishing their individual sins, speaking to them directly, intervening constantly. Even in Abraham’s day he sent extraterrestrial messengers on house calls. By Jacob’s time, however, the messages were far more ambiguous: a mysterious dream about a ladder, a late-night wrestling match. And toward the end of Genesis, a man named Joseph received guidance in the most unexpected ways.
Genesis slows down when it gets to Joseph, and it shows God working mostly behind the scenes. God spoke to Joseph not through angels, but through such means as the dreams of a despotic Egyptian pharaoh…
…But shift for a moment to the perspective of God the parent. Had he deliberately “pulled back” to allow Joseph’s faith to reach a new level of maturity? And could this be why Genesis devotes more space to Joseph than to any other person? Through all his trials, Joseph learned to trust: not that God would prevent hardship, but that he would redeem even the hardship. Choking back tears, Joseph tried to explain his faith to his murderous brothers: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good….
— Philip Yancey, Disappointment With God, 71-72
Yancey really got me thinking about how God goes about his business…and not in the way we would expect. Of course you know this.
For example, the three matriarchs of Israel – Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel – were each affected with some form of barrenness at one time or another. You would think that God, in inventing a new nation, would have the foresight to choose fertile young women who could pop out babies right and left on a whim to launch his people-project. Not so.
God seems to go about his business in less than flashy style, the hard way. A virgin-born baby in a frontier town. Barren matriarchs who are hardly able to eke out a child or two. The runt of the litter as king of the nation. Even in creation, one of the grandest displays of his majestic purposes, God throws out a little at a time: day one, wait, day two, I’m good, day three, that’s enough for now, and so on. Why not fling everything into being all at once in a monumental great big bang?
He scripted a Church that would stymie the gates of hell… and who did he choose as its first adapters? A handful of rough-and-tumble blue collar types; the foolish, weak, and despised. His M.O. was so frighteningly scandalous he picked the Sanhedrin’s favorite hit man to reform and apostle the growing church toward spiritual maturity.
We know God can dazzle (Matt 17:2) but he specializes in the unnerving manner (to us) of plodding and waiting and delaying. He doesn’t do things the conventional way. He’s not in a hurry and he doesn’t do flashy all that often. We want him to call down fire but he wants us to pray for our enemies. Even when he stepped out of character to curse a fig tree, he walked away from it, leaving it intact… until the next day.
He’s liable to tell us that he has big family plans for us so we get busy preparing the nursery only to have it sit empty for a quarter of a century. My ways are higher than your ways, he reminds us. He’s liable to hear that we are sick unto death then wait four days to show up. By then it’s our funeral, not our sick bed.
Jesus shied away from being coronated too soon and, on other occasions, curiously charged his healed followers to keep it between them and their priest. Turns out, he was playing the long game.
I know how disappointment with God can creep in and lead to discouragement. I’ve been there more times than I care to admit. You might be there yourself. Yancey dedicated his book “For my brother, who is still disappointed.”
A sorely disillusioned Sarah laughed over the prospect of pregnancy in her well-past-due date, and when she did so, exposed a deep well of hurt inside her. Maybe at sixty-five, she sniffed, but not hardly at ninety. God recognized it at once and spoke a sure word into her void: “Is anything impossible for the Lord…?”(Gen 18:14)
Whatever you’re going through, however difficult it seems, just keep on trusting Jesus. Sometimes we’d like it better if God stopped playing the long game and wrapped things up all nice and tidy. Quick like. Allow me to share something with you that has anchored my soul in these recent days.
“As it is, we do not yet see everything subjected to Him. But we do see Jesus…” (Hebrews 2:8-9, CSB)
Read that again. Slowly. Let your soul bathe in those words.
Here’s the thing that mollifies me today. What does the writer of Hebrews emphasize time and again about what Jesus is doing right now? He’s sitting. He’s not pacing and fidgeting; he’s not wringing his hands worrying over how to turn the tide.
Jesus is sitting down.
On a throne.
Reigning like a boss.
Right now we’re in the disquieting realm of “yes, but not yet.” We just had no idea how long not yet was going to last. But right now Jesus is ruling and reigning and interceding. Imagine: the King of the Universe has our names on his heart day in and day out and is working behind the scenes causing chief cupbearers to suddenly remember, giving dreams to Pharaohs, putting you on a different platform, orchestrating famines in other places to bring hungry families to your doorstep, and reconciling and subjecting all things – and persons – to himself. He’s not just “sitting around,” mind you, he’s quite busy making all things new.
The present seems pretty messed up, if we’re being honest. But if we can manage to squint through the fog and gloom of the present “as it is,” and adjust our focus, we’ll see it all coming together — in Christ Jesus — just as God promised long ago.
Don’t lose hope, dear one, long game notwithstanding; I won’t either. See Jesus and, in the comforting words of Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”
