BALANCING ACTS

How do they do it—I mean, birds, able to outshine human circus performers with their ability to balance a big body (relatively speaking) on a tiny branch? Or even that precarious ledge of a bird feeder? I am challenged to balance on a bike. If you really want to get into the anatomy of balanced birds, hold on:

*They have anisodactyl foot structure. Three toes point forward, one (called the “hallux”) back. That gives them a better grip and balance on a branch.

*They have a flexor tendons that tighten when they land and bend knee and ankle. The tightening is enhanced by tiny ridges, “tubercies,” and other things that secure the grip.

*They have scutellae (this is really getting into scientific terms!), which are rough scales on their toes and feet that help them grip on smooth or narrow perches.

*They have a tail (well, duh!) that acts as a counterbalance adjustment for the bird's center of gravity.

Caution: don't try this yourself on a local tree. You lack some of the necessary anatomical equipment. But maybe there's a picture here of how we can “get a grip on life” when we land precariously in a tough place. Or how we want to be really close and personal with God—depending on Him and trusting in Him.

I'm grateful God didn't put “bird legs” on humans but an amazing complex foot that can do all sorts of wonderful stuff (although clinging to a narrow tree branch isn't in the list). “Clinging” (not the bird type) is a very Biblical concept. In the original Hebrew, it's dabeq, which means “to cleave, to adhere to.” David used the term in Psalm 63:8. In the King James version, it's rendered, “My soul followed hard after thee.” The NIV translates: “I stay close to you; your right hand upholds me.” We might paraphrase, “God, I've landed in a precarious place. I want to be really close to You, depending on You and trusting in You.”

That psalm's background adds perspective to that sense of agitation in the midst of trust. David probably wrote it when he was the wilderness of Judah, likely in a lot of personal distress in his long siege of avoiding King Saul's wrath and murderous search for him.

It's been said of super-busy or super-desperate people that they are “trying to find balance.” And maybe that's where the little bird (whose top-heavy body somehow achieves “balance” with those thin, spindly legs) can teach us something. It's not all about our effort when we find ourselves in a precarious position. God has equipped us to find the right grip in places that defy our spiritual balance. We don't have a bird's amazing anatomy, but we do have God's presence and Word. He can strengthen our “grip” on the fragile branches of life. And He can help us find the balance to stay steady when, instead of flying high, we're to sit and wait for His next instruction.

Grasping at hope

I love looking at the tiny, trusting hands of my new grandson, James, now four months old.  These tiny, intricate hands curl around an adult finger with such faith and trust. Right now, his favorite game is “push-ups,” going from sitting in my lap to standing in it.  I know better than to trust just his grip to pull him up, so I hold his hand as he holds mine.

This tender imagery came to mind as I prepared last week’s blog review of Carol Kent’s new devotional book, He Holds My Hand.  In autographing it, she referenced Psalm 63:8, “I stay close to you; your right hand upholds me.”

The psalm’s inscription says David wrote it while in the desert of Judah, probably referring to the years he fled the murderous intentions of King Saul. He’s hungry, hunted, and hopeful.  He thinks of God day and night:

On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. (v. 6)

In recent months I’ve experienced those “night-watch” God times.  I value a good night of sleep, but frequently I wake up around 2 or 3 a.m. with a compulsion to pray for someone who has verbally bullied me. My greatest desire is to see this person become whole in Christ. In praying, I sometimes feel like a little child (or even a baby) putting my weak but trusting hand in God’s.  At such times, other “hand” scriptures bring me comfort, like this one in Isaiah 41:13:

For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear; I will help you.”

Or this, in Psalm 37:23:

The LORD delights in the ways of the man whose steps he has made firm; through he stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand.

At times in those middle-of-the-night prayers, my posture is uplifted hands, my way of releasing to God my frustration and deep concern for this person. That’s the way it should be. When I reach up, God is reaching down to me.  And that brings comfort and hope.