The Sparrow

Lady Rose, the Princess, and I launched out this morning for a round of errands and eventually found ourselves at the Corn Crib Cafe in Shipshewana for an early lunch. Afterwards the ladies felt the instinctual need to peruse a store that had, very conveniently, not only fabric but also sandals. And they always need more of both. I demurred, giving them the keys and stating that I would be found a few doors down at a new and nicely appointed used bookstore.

Later I sat on a shaded rocker outside the cafe, enjoying the weather and reading from my small stack of newly acquired books (truly, it was a small stack this time) when my attention was suddenly drawn to a flutter immediately to my right. I looked down to see a sparrow lying on the sidewalk not five feet away. Ragged breaths, heaving breast, her head, now lying tragically on the concrete, twitching slowly back and forth. I watched her in fascination, my training kicking in – how to perform CPR on this little thing? Do they make intubation tubes that small? Could I even find a vein?  

I looked away for a moment and when I looked back, she was still. So very fragile, pretty in her own right, not beautiful by any stretch but so small and helpless. Variegated brown with some faint white outlines at the feathered wing crest. Head resting now on the concrete. Eyes closed. The final sweet repose of the common American house sparrow.

And then it hit me. God saw that. He saw that little sparrow die. And it died within a few feet of me and God’s eyes were right there. The gaze of God was directed only feet from me. How amazing is that?

A white-water tumult of thoughts came into my mind, like a river at flood. There is no theological ambiguity regarding Jesus’s words in the New Testament regarding God and sparrows. Jesus says His Father sees the sparrow fall. He is actually aware of the short and tragic life of the common house sparrow. What’s more, Jesus tells us that to illustrate how much he cares about you and me.

In the middle of my reverie a mother and her son walk out of the cafe and see the sparrow. The boy says, Is he dead? She says, Uhm, yeah he ain’t breathin’. Prolly hit a window. I hadn't thought of that because I didn't hear any midflight crash or explosion but he prolly did. But guess what kid, God knows. He knows exactly what happened to that sparrow. Just a moment ago, you and I both didn’t realize it, but God’s eyes were right here, on that exact spot.

In my work I see and hear from many people who are seeking answers to life’s challenging questions. There is almost no end to suffering, to sickness, to struggle. What about that dysfunction you’ve endured for many years? What about that mental illness, less than perfect marriage, wayward child? What about that battle with addiction, depression, insecurities?

Without thinking we tend to question God’s eyesight at times. He must not see me. He must not see my struggle. But the truth is this: He does. His eyesight has not changed.

Another mother and her boy walk by, an older lad this time, and he can’t help but turn it over with his foot. Dead bird, he says, expertly assessing the situation. The mother says please don’t touch, that’s disgusting. I think to myself, did God find that drab little creature disgusting or was He rather touched? I suspect he was touched as he, after all, created that little bird.

And we are so much more than sparrows.

BF