The Sparrow At My Window

Once again today I was in my office and heard the chirping of a sparrow right outside my window.  As it sat on the window ledge, I had the opportunity to observe the bird, to see its alertness, its vigilance.  If I looked closely, I almost believed I could see the beating of its heart as it rested from its flight.

I have no ideas what sparrows think about or what they do besides make nests and empty bird feeders.  Though I never thought a sparrow was exceptionally beautiful as far as birds go, the little creature has a beauty of its own.  When it took off I followed it with my eyes as long as I could, and then I whispered, “Only the Father knows where the sparrow is now.”

I find it intriguing that Jesus used the example of the Father’s knowledge of sparrows as an encouragement to trust and fearless living.  Jesus focuses on our frightened reactions to those who might harm us in Matthew 10, but the wider application is to anything that might threaten us or instill within us fear.  Perhaps the greatest fear is to be overlooked by God, forgotten, out of His sight.  Frequently I speak to those who believe their lives are lived largely without the awareness of the Father.  It is a fearful thing indeed, to fall through the cracks, to be overlooked or forgotten by the Almighty.

But Jesus insists such is not the case.  A sparrow can’t fall to the ground without the Father’s knowledge and involvement, Matthew 10:29 tells us.  That makes God a great bird-watcher, but does that fact relate to us?  Yes, indeed, of course it does – Jesus goes on to say in Matthew 10:30, “And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don’t be afraid, you are worth more than many sparrows.”  

What’s the point?

As large as God may be as the Creator and Sustainer of all that is, He notes the distress of even the smallest of creatures.  Not only does He know about the sparrow, He has an accurate count of the hair on our heads, seemingly useless and insignificant information – except it tells us how attentive God is to us.  As one writer put it, for God to know that kind of information is a way of saying God is engrossed with His people.  I like that image – engrossed.  Absorbed.  Immersed.  The way we are to be with Him, and the way He really is with us.

Don’t be afraid, Jesus says – to God you are worth more than many sparrows.  Whatever we face in life, whether it be difficult times, disappointing circumstances, troubling relationships, broken health or hearts, we don’t have to face that alone.  The One who has His eye on the sparrow has His eye on us.  The One who doesn’t miss a hair on our heads doesn’t miss a moment of our lives.

And He wants to do more than just watch us – His longing is to walk with us through that which creates fear, to still our hearts and calm our souls and assure us that He is at work.

His eye is on the sparrow – but more important, His eye is on you and me.

Our Father In Heaven

I have to admit that the phrase from the Lord’s Prayer, “Our Father who art in heaven”, bothered me for a long time.  As a child I remember watching a sci-fi movie where the leading character is able to see into the depths of space, to the end of the universe.  It began simply, with being able to see through walls, but as his vision increased, he peered into space.  My childhood take was that if he looked far enough, he would finally see God, watching from the distance of billions of light years away. 

So where is God?  So far away that I can not even begin to comprehend it – that is how things came together in my childish mind.  And as I grew, I’m not sure I put away childish things very quickly.  Others don't either -- as a pastor I have people tell me that their prayers don’t make it up to God, that at times they don’t even make it past the ceiling.  They see God as one who is up there and out there, so far removed that we may have to speak up for Him to hear us, or speak long to get His attention.

In the last blog I spoke with great gratitude about Jesus directing us to call God “Father.”  That phrase speaks of such intimacy, closeness, and love. A tremendous privilege, to call God "Father."  Is Jesus now trying to correct our misunderstanding  – “Yes, God does want you to think of Him as Father, but don’t jump to conclusions – He is so far from you that you can’t even comprehend it” – have we misinterpreted what Jesus was getting at?

No, not at all – in fact, Jesus is helping us understand what kind of Father God is. 

For one thing, He is our heavenly Father.  Whatever our relationship with our earthly fathers might be, God is so far beyond that.  I can use this example – my Dad was almost completely deaf.  From my earliest recollections I had to yell to get his attention, and I became increasingly aware of the fact that his hearing aid did very little good.  He mostly read lips.  Carrying on a conversation with Dad was extremely difficult.  When I was in college Dad had a device which was suppose to enable him to hear me on the phone.  I would call home and try to talk to him – and you could hear the sadness in his voice when he would say, “I’m sorry Robert, I can’t hear what you are saying – here’s your mother.” 

My earthly father had trouble hearing me and carried on very few conversations throughout our times together – our Heavenly Father has no such problem.  He hears our shouts and our whispers, and He is always eager to carry on a conversation night or day.

Our Father in heaven – if I think of that phrase in distance terms, I don’t think of God being far removed but of God having an exceptional vantage point from which to see.  My daughter says there is a mountain you can climb in Arizona and see the whole city of Phoenix laid out before you.  We are so near-sighted in the living of our lives, but our Father in heaven has the vantage point of expanded vision.  He misses nothing.  He takes it all in.  We are never lost from His sight.  He doesn’t go around scratching His head wondering what’s going to happen next.  To say God is in heaven is to say He sees all.  Everyone of us.  Personally.

Our Father in heaven – I believe that also emphasizes His closeness.  Scholar N. T. Wright emphasizes that earth is our sphere of life and God is hidden from us for the time being in the spiritual sphere of life.  He is not distant – He is closer than we can imagine.  I think of the scene in 2 Kings 6 when Elisha and his servant were surrounded by the enemy.  The servant was terrified, but Elisha prayed that his servant’s eyes would be opened.  When they were, he suddenly saw the hills full of chariots of fire, the army of God.  They were there all the time – Elisha knew it, but his servant didn’t. 

When I dwell on the opening phrase of the Lord’s Prayer, using it as a pattern and a starter for my own prayer, my heart and soul goes in these kinds of directions.  I spend time with the Father knowing that He hears.  I relax in His superior vantage point, knowing that He knows what is going on and will direct me as I trust in Him.  And I ask Him to help me live with the awareness that I am never separated from His presence, that I don’t have to worry about my prayers making it beyond the ceiling.  I pray that I might have eyes to see His presence with me always through His Son Jesus.

Our Father in heaven.

Father

My wife and I recently had the joy of visiting our children. Our daughter Alyssa and her husband Paul live in Arizona, and our son Chad and his wife Becki live in Kansas. The time in Arizona was vacation time, tolerating what Alyssa seemed to think was “cool” weather (85-90 degrees) but immensely enjoying our all-too-brief time together. Our stay at Chad and Becki’s house was for a different reason, a much needed study break while Chad and Becki were at work. I still remember the shocked look on Becki’s face when she came home from work, saw all the chairs removed from around the dining room table, and my books and papers strewn all over the place. “Oh my!” were her only words. I wonder what she was thinking?

It was during that study time and as a result of a word I heard several times that this blog (or maybe a series of blogs) came to mind. The word was “Father.” Most often “Dad,” a time or two “Pops,” even a “Daddy” – but also the word “Father.”

I was taught what is called “The Lord’s Prayer” at an early age – my most distant memories include praying that prayer as it is written and has been prayed through the centuries. I have to confess I largely prayed it without comprehending what I was saying. They were only words that tumbled off my lips, filled with the faint hope that God might be moved by this magical incantation.

When I became a Christian in truth and not just in description, I turned from the formal prayers I had memorized to more personal, spontaneous prayers. The Lord’s Prayer became something seldom repeated, on special occasions or in community services.

And then one day I discovered the prayer again.

I was preaching a series on the Sermon on the Mount, and I stared at the words of the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6 and wondered what I would do with them. It was in that process that I realized that they were not so much words to be repeated as a pattern or structure to help us in our praying. I immersed myself in each word, spending time in prayer dwelling on the meaning of each phrase. I discovered that the prayer was of immense help, guiding me in a conversation with the One who, through His Son Jesus, wanted me to call Him Father.

Think about that for a moment.

Everyone on the face of this earth who knows me calls me by my name or title – Bob or Robert or Dr. Johnston or Pastor or whatever. But from the billions of people in this world there are only two people (or four if their spouses so choose) who have the right to call me “father.”  So few among so many.

This is how Jesus instructed us to address God. He could have given us many other titles or names – they are all found in the Bible. But I find myself deeply moved and eternally grateful that God wants us to think of Him as “Father”. I recognize that some, based on their relationships with their physical fathers, may find that difficult, depending on how their fathers treated or mistreated them. But stripped of all the limitations we earthly dads have, to call God “Father” speaks of tremendous love, extravagant grace, enduring compassion, and eternal relationship.

Jesus told a story about a foolhardy kid who turned his back on all the good things his father had taught him. We dads worry about that, and we are deeply concerned when our children seem to forget what our best gifts to them have been. In the story Jesus told, the child took off on his own for who knows how long, wasted everything he had, and finally came to his senses. He determined he would go home, not as a son but a servant. While he journeyed home rehearsing his speech, his father, who evidently had been on the look out, saw him in the distance. It was then that this father did a rather undignified thing in his day – he ran. With all his heart and strength, he raced to his young prodigal. His son started his speech but was stopped short – his father embraced him, gave him the symbols of sonship, and poured out on him prodigal love.

I think of that passage when, upon the nudging of the Lord’s Prayer, I call God “Father”.  I think of the extravagant gracefulness of that father, and realize that Jesus wants us to think of God in this way, as one who is absolutely delighted to have us come to Him in prayer. That invitation changes absolutely everything about prayer – and for that I thank our Father.