while you were sleeping

2 Chronicles 32:20-21
Then Hezekiah the king and Isaiah the prophet, the son of Amoz, prayed because of this and cried to heaven. And the LORD sent an angel, who cut off all the mighty warriors and commanders and officers in the camp of the king of Assyria…

I love, love, love how Anne Kennedy writes of this moment:

The Assyrians are the most powerful army in the world. Their weapons are strong, their soldiers resolute. They have come prepared to win. The people on the wall know they haven’t a hope.

But their king prays. Their king, in wisdom, cries out to God. And then, apparently, he goes to sleep. So everyone else must lie down and try to do likewise.

When they rise up, they strain their eyes over the mist burning off in the sweltering morning sun; they look out and see that not a single enemy soldier remains alive. Every single one is dead.

Anne Kennedy, Nailed It, Day 102

Our King is praying too. Whatever situation we face making us worry on the wall, know this: enthroned within the eternal kingdom King Jesus is praying for us. And all is well.

The night is long and dark and fearsome, but when the morning mist is burned away by the unshrouded glory of the Son, everywhere we look is evidence of victory. Carcasses litter the valley floor, and we are saved.

Today I was reading Mark’s account of the crucifixion. As the Savior hung on the cross, and the people jeered, there were better than 72,000 angels with hands on swords drawn and ready to strike at Messiah’s command.

Our story tells of one angel. Probably a biggie to be sure, nonetheless this one angel wiped out 185,000 Assyrians, clear-cutting them from the landscape! Just imagine what 72,000-plus could do. I shudder to think.

Whatever is weighing on you, fear not. Not a single Assyrian will get past your Father’s security detail. There’s at least one angel he’s dispatched whose carrying a work order with your name on it, and we know what one angel can do.

Spurgeon, as only Spurgeon can tell it:

To what dignity are the chosen elevated when the brilliant courtiers of heaven become their willing servitors! Into what communion are we raised since we have intercourse with spotless celestials!

How well are we defended since all the twenty-thousand chariots of God are armed for our deliverance! To whom do we owe all this?

Let the Lord Jesus Christ be forever endeared to us, for through Him we are made to sit in heavenly places far above principalities and powers. He it is whose camp is round about them that fear Him; He is the true Michael whose foot is upon the dragon. All hail, Jesus! thou Angel of Jehovah’s presence…

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, Morning Reading, Oct. 3

You are his dwelling place and the Lord of the angel-armies defends what is his. In another place related to this biblical scene, God says he will protect his city against the Assyrians in such a way the “feeblest will become like David” who feared no man, no challenge, no threat, no intimidation.

David, who had his Mighty Men acting as his human shield, going before and behind him, an omnidirectional wall of security, was no more protected than we are.

Finally, exhausted from prayer and cries for mercy and justice, the king and his prophet Isaiah felt they could go to bed. While they were sleeping, and the city with them, the death angel of the Lord passed over the Assyrians wherever they were camped, and made them history.

As bad as things might be for you tonight, if Assyrians are keeping you awake, know that he who is with you is greater than the forces organized against you, and tomorrow is a brand new day.

Selah, beloved.

Preaching Is For The Birds

A friend called today. Said he’s going to have to start calling me “Pastor Audubon” what with all my online bird photos. I’m not what you’d call a birder but I suppose that might be in my future.

I’m fascinated by the variety of birds that visit my backyard. Nuthatches, titmouses, finches (gold, purple and house), cardinals, wrens, sparrows, hummingbirds, mourning doves, towhees, thrashers, jays and chickadees. They entertain my heart for hours on end; watching them through the kitchen window and in my backyard perch, I’m all agog. Go ahead. Call me an old guy. I’m happily wriggling into that skin and it suits me fine.

Quite recently a baby house finch was practicing its newly found airborn technique near my observation spot when it quickly tuckered out and did this:

image

 

Adorable, yes?

Soon after posting this photo on a social media site, another friend commented, “you’re just like St. Francis!” I admit, I had to google it, though I had an inkling what she was referring to. Seems Francis was practicing his preaching chops out in the woods one day when suddenly the fields about were positively aflutter with every bird in the vicinity. Francis took note and commanded the birds to hear the word of God for them – and they listened with rapt attention!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow waxed poetic about the whole affair with his “Sermon of St. Francis”.

Allow me:

Up soared the lark into the air,
A shaft of song, a wingéd prayer,
As if a soul released from pain
Were flying back to heaven again.

American Goldfinch
American Goldfinch

St. Francis heard: it was to him
An emblem of the Seraphim;
The upward motion of the fire,
The light, the heat, the heart’s desire.

Chickadee
Chickadee

Around Assisi’s convent gate
The birds, God’s poor who cannot wait,
From moor and mere and darksome wood
Come flocking for their dole of food.

image
Finches, purple and gold

“O brother birds,” St. Francis said,
“Ye come to me and ask for bread,
But not with bread alone to-day
Shall ye be fed and sent away.

Female house finches gossiping around the water cooler
Female house finches gossiping around the water cooler

“Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds,
With manna of celestial words;
Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
Not mine, though they be spoken through me.

Hummingbird
Hummingbird

“Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise
The great Creator in your lays;
He giveth you your plumes of down,
Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.

Sleepyhead
Sleepyhead

“He giveth you your wings to fly
And breathe a purer air on high,
And careth for you everywhere,
Who for yourselves so little care!”

Titmouse
Titmouse

With flutter of swift wings and songs
Together rose the feathered throngs,
And singing scattered far apart;
Deep peace was in St. Francis’ heart.

And of course...Mr. Cardinal
And of course…Mr. Cardinal

He knew not if the brotherhood
His homily had understood;
He only knew that to one ear
The meaning of his words was clear.

...and his Better Half
…and his Better Half


For you true birders, if I’ve misidentified any of these lovelies, feel free to set me straight. I still can’t get them to talk to me.