NESTED

Years of putting off trimming the arborvitae had turned it into a monster hedge probably fifteen feet high. Our servant-hearted son came by to help his dad finish the arduous task. In doing so, they pulled out a small nest, carefully wound with twigs and plastic strips, well glued with mud. Sturdy, hidden, it had served its purpose as a bird's nursery.

“Even the sparrow has found a home,” wrote one of the temple musicians, “and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—a place near your altar, O LORD Almighty, my King and my God” (Psalm 84:3). It's a beautiful set of words to inscribe on sacred art. It's also a beautiful reminder how God cares for even the humblest birds.

First: context. It's believed this psalm was written by one of the temple workers (“sons of Korah”) who had to be absent from his duties in Jerusalem for a while. While we acknowledge that God doesn't dwell in the structures we call now churches, for ancient Jews the temple was revered and respected. From the rituals for sacrifices to even the places where its janitors served (the “parbar” or western colonnades), everything was prescribed and honored.

Yet birds came and found homes. As they chirped and flittered about, carrying on bird life, they had protection and purpose. Notice: these were not powerful birds (like eagles) or beautiful ones (like peacocks). They were ordinary bird life. Sparrows symbolized something almost worthless. Bible-time boys who caught sparrows to sell worshipers for sacrifices could earn two farthings (the smallest, least valuable copper coin) for five birds. Swallows are known for always flitting about. Yet when it comes times to nest and hatch eggs, they settle down. What an image of finding our peace and purpose in God. Such was the observation of St. Augustine (A.D. 354-530) in his famed quote: “Our hearts are restless till they rest in thee.”

This whole psalm throbs with a yearning for authentic worship: “Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you” (84:4). But the psalm doesn't stay inside the temple:

Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. (v. 6)

In those days, a trip wasn't as simple as filling the car with gas and hitting the highway. Travel was by cart, animal or sandaled feet. It was hard and hot. It took days and days. But the traveler to Jerusalem kept his eye on the goal: the temple, a divinely-planned, human-constructed worship center. A place to come apart and focus of God's holy character, divine plan and perfect purpose.

The psalm ends with this encouraging word:

The Lord bestows favor and honor; No good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless. (v. 11)

This is not some paste-on-every-situation verse. It's a statement of the character of God. Even in pain and loss, we will eventually learn the “good thing” He could bring of it—if we strive to walk close with him, with “blamelessness.” It's the same principle as Romans 8:28: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.”

We don't always have those blessings in our line of vision. Sometimes, like a little bird nest, they're tucked away behind layers of ordinary branches and needles. But if God could give perches and protection to birds, can He not also take care of me? Jesus affirmed that truth: “Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows” (Matt. 20:31). Even abandoned nests attest to that.

Hang-ups and Hanging-Ups

When the weather turns warmer, I choose my clothesline over the dryer.  This saves electricity, plus “hanging time” is also “thinking time.” That day, as I snapped clothespins onto towels and shirts, the word “hang-ups” came to mind with its double meaning for laundry and troubled minds. Before I could think too much about troubled people I care about, I was distracted by the brilliant chorus of various birds in nearby trees. I thought of the old song, “His eye is on the sparrow,” affirming God’s incomprehensible watch-care. He cares even more than I can imagine for the loved ones whose problems can easily discourage me.

The song enjoyed renewed fame when actress-singer Ethel Walters, who rose from poverty to entertainment fame, used its title for her 1951 autobiography. But the song was originally written in 1905 by a New York pastor’s wife named Civilla Martin. The Martins had become friends with the Doolittles, an older couple who’d long battled illnesses. Mrs. Doolittle had been bedridden for twenty years, and her husband used a wheelchair to get to work. Yet the couple was known for bringing inspiration and cheer to those around them. On one visit with the Doolittles, Pastor Martin asked the secret of their hope. Mrs. Doolittle, alluding to Jesus’ illustration about God’s omniscience via care of bird life, remarked simply, “His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.”

Her simple yet profound reply gripped the Martins. Civilla went home and wrote the lyrics, and the next day mailed them to prolific hymnist Charles Gabriel, who wrote the tune. (See last week's blog for Gabriel's story.)

The song refers to these verses:

“Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not of more value than they?” (Matthew 6:26)

“Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.  But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:29-31)

 

Civilla expressed the same theme in a song she wrote a year earlier: “God Will Take Care of You.” But the simple words of “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” are what came to me that laundry morning as I hung up socks and shirts. Why should I feel discouraged? Why should the shadows come...When Jesus is my portion, My constant friend is He: His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.”

 

When I snapped the clothespin on the last sock, I went back in the house to other chores.  Inside, I couldn’t hear the birds sing anymore. But my heart replayed the much-needed reminder they provided that day--that nothing, even what I pray about with feeble faith, is outside the loving watch-care of God. 

Birdhouses and Psalm 84

A birdhouse-lover lives about a block away. Dozens of bird-size boxes adorn her trees. As I walk past, the “happy chirp” volume is high. I thought of this display when recently studying Psalm 84:

 Even the sparrow has found a home,

And the swallow a nest for herself,

Where she may have her young—
A place near your altar,
O LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
They are ever praising you. (vv. 3-4)

I always considered Psalm 84 the “glad-to-be-in-church” psalm. James Montgomery Boice gives a different viewpoint in calling this “The Psalm of the Janitors.” The subtitle indicates this was “of the sons of Korah,” one of eleven such psalms so dedicated. The Korahites were part of the temple staff, charged with gate-keeping (1 Chron. 26:1) and singing.
 

Until now, I never gave much thought to the birds, knowing how they will find anywhere to nest. They’re often fluttering through the rafters of warehouse stores, despite the efforts of management to get rid of them. But Boice brought my attention to something else: the types of birds mentioned.

Sparrows were symbols of worthlessness. In Bible times, they sold two for about a penny or five for two cents (Matt. 10:39, Luke 12:6). Yet these “worthless” birds made their homes near the altar of Israel’s worship center. Jesus said that even when they fall to the ground, God knows about it. He added, “Don’t be afraid, you are worth more than many sparrows” (Matt. 10:29, 31).

Swallows symbolized restlessness. They’re constantly on the “fly” until they nest and raise young. Bible teacher John Stott wrote that he thought the swallows were the same as the screaming swift, still found at the Mosque of Omar in Jerusalem. We, too, are restless and flittering about until we come to rest in God. As St. Augustine famously said, “Our hearts are restless till they rest in thee.”

I find a comforting sense of continuity in this psalm. First, the Korahites composed a song alluding to temple birds. Then Jesus based parables on them. And they’re still around! It reminds me how with God, a day is as a thousand years (Psalm 90:4). Nothing is too insignificant to Him. If birds find rest under His watchful eye, how much more does He care for His cherished children.

We too can “nest” near His altar and find that resting place. We can “dwell” in His house through fellowship with other believers, and through those hidden, private times of prayer and reflection. So blessed, praise should be our automatic response (v. 4).

Worth-ship and rest. Take a lesson from birds? I think we can.