One morning in May, I might have gone deaf had God turned up the volume, even just a little, on the bird songs ricocheting through the air. Spring migration seemed to be at its zenith on that clear, warm day with the sun finally shining. The previous two night’s storms probably helped carry many of them up from the south. Surprisingly, thousands of songbirds fly overhead at night in April and May, migrating from Central or South America to breed in the US and Canada. Many of them fly for hours before stopping to feed and rest during the day in the trees (and sometimes feeders) right outside your door. That day, at Prairie Pond Woods, it was a virtual smorgasbord.
As I sat on the deck making notes on nature’s timetables, out of the corner of my eye I (barely) noticed the dark-headed bird at the feeder flashing red and white feathers. I quickly passed it off thinking it was “just a Rufie” (an Eastern Towhee, formerly known as a Rufous-sided Towhee, which is my favorite bird). The male and female had been visiting the feeder frequently the last few days so I continued to write. But something told me to give the feeder a second look. And there they were…three female and one male Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. Nothing is ever as it seems at first glance.
Afer 3 days, the count was up to 6 males and an undetermined number of females volleying back and forth from the feeder to the surrounding pine trees.
Later that day on the deck, one eye on the birds and the other finishing up the book of Matthew, I was struck by the words of the centurion given charge to guard Jesus as he was being crucified. Earlier, he probably saw Roman soldiers mocking Jesus’ “make-believe royalty” and heard Jewish leaders taunting him saying, “You saved others, save yourself.”
But when the mid-day sky turned dark and ominous, after an earthquake resurrected the dead, and after Jesus cried out, “Father into your hands I commit my Spirit,” the centurion was compelled to take a second look. Perhaps when his fear of danger outweighed the fear of his fellow soldiers, he finally asked, "Who was this man, really?" The humble man, he remembered, who never once defended himself, though innocent of the charges for which he was dying? The powerful man, who he'd heard made sick people well again with just a word? And the gracious man, who gave “good news" to the discouraged and hopeless people on the fringe?
In response to what must have been a terrifying realization, his only words recorded were,
Madelline L’Engle calls awareness “a discipline that must be developed.” It involves the work of paying attention, taking time for attentiveness, beyond our first impressions. Perhaps it involves asking questions, like Jesus did, and praying for discernment. The world is a complicated place. We are complex people. And the truth about someone or a situation is often masked behind layers of things; things that God wants to either deliver us from or make us sensitive to. So cultivate the habit of taking a second look. Look beyond...you may find something worth the effort.
May 2007
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