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Posts Tagged ‘noisy miner’

Jo 17One morning this past week, I was woken by a chorus of birds chirping loudly outside our bedroom window. I went out onto our balcony to investigate, as I have discovered that this can sometimes signal the presence of a bush turkey proudly stalking along near our garden, eating whatever he (or she) likes, including our lovely roses! But no—this time, there was no bush turkey in sight. I looked up at the birds in the nearby trees. There they were, chirping their little hearts out like a well-trained choir, all lined up to perform their best for their conductor. I stood there for some time, but could not see anything that was upsetting them. And in the end, I concluded they were merely welcoming the beginning of another day with gladness.

But often at dusk as well, we can hear other beautiful birdsongs floating into our lounge, even through our thick balcony doors. The cadences are so varied and musical that I have come to see why a songwriter I once heard speak maintained that he based most of his songs on birdcalls. And a short walk away any time of day, we can hear the bellbirds loud and clear—a lovely, tinkling sound like no other.

On occasions too, I see those amazingly-coloured rainbow lorikeets feasting on the grevillea flowers nearby. And now and then, a kookaburra perches on the railing just outside my study window, much to the consternation of the resident noisy miners who sit squawking at a safe distance! Yes, even though we live in a village in busy western Sydney, we still have ample opportunity to observe nature close up and to enjoy the amazing diversity of God’s creation everywhere, including the bird life around us.

And as I stood there the other morning watching and listening to that bird chorus nearby, I believe I heard something else from God too: If I can care for each one of these birds so well and have the ability to give them such distinct songs of their own, why are you weighed down with worry about this and that? Here I was, feeling so burdened about the world during this coronavirus time and concerned in particular for our children and grandchildren. Yet here was God, waking me up in a way I could not ignore and reminding me, in no uncertain terms, of some words Jesus himself said:

Look at the ravens. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for God feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than any birds! Luke 12:24 New Living Translation

Yes, God had my attention well and truly by then. I remembered Jesus’ next words too:

Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? And if worry can’t accomplish a little thing like that, what’s the use of worrying over bigger things? Luke 12:25-26 NLT

Of course I need to help others in this difficult time, including in practical ways. And of course I need to pray for God’s provision for those near and dear to us and for our hurting world in general. But I am valuable to God. We all are. I can trust in God at this time and rest in God’s love, instead of worrying. And so can you.

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IMG_20180710_143310824I glance up from my desk and notice a rather impressive visitor sitting on our balcony railing about a metre from my study window—a kookaburra, looking as if it owns everything within view! I move to take its photo through the glass and it turns its head slightly, as if to say, ‘I know you’re there, but I also know I’m safe from you out here!’ Some smaller, noisy birds do not like that larger, alert presence nearby and try to frighten it away by squawking loudly and bombarding it. Yet it remains immovable, save for a slight shuffle along the railing and a few sharp turns of its head. Its eyes are on a nearby prize—perhaps something for dinner that those other birds also want?

As I watch, I marvel at how still that kookaburra seems to be. No doubt it is extremely alert to what is happening around it—and that soon become obvious, when it suddenly flies down to ground level, then plucks a poor, unsuspecting worm from the soft soil. In a few moments, that worm is no more. All that stillness and watchfulness on the part of the kookaburra have paid off—it has found its dinner.

At that point, I begin to suspect God has an important lesson to teach me about being still. I might be physically still, as I sit gazing at that kookaburra—but I am not mentally still. Even as I watch, my mind is darting this way and that. I wonder whether what I am writing makes sense or will amount to anything in the end. And I am not still deep inside me either. Instead, I feel somewhat stressed—I am worried about someone I care about who is facing many difficulties and also about an upcoming speaking engagement, not to mention my writing project. I am aware God knows about all these issues—yet I am struggling to stay in that place of stillness and peace with God and of complete trust that God has it all in hand.

I move my hands off my keyboard and lay them in my lap. I breathe deeply, letting my body relax. I picture God’s loving arms holding me close and sink back into them, sensing God’s Spirit both in me and around me. I still my mind and my heart, knowing it is enough to be in this present moment with God. Then I hear again some words read out at church only days earlier:

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea … “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” Psalm 46:1, 10

In the stillness too, a gentle voice reminds me I am in a daily battle with an age-old enemy and need to remain so very vigilant.

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. 1 Peter 5:8

Yes, I need to be alert and watchful like that kookaburra—yet also deeply still, so aware my loving, almighty God is with me at all times, don’t you agree?

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