Just a bird

Not hearing or seeing, I must have walked by the bird at first. Moving down the stairs of my apartment complex, I was thinking about meeting a friend for breakfast and actually singing "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley. I went to bed with it stuck in my head, woke up with it, sang it in the shower, and hummed it while shaving. I didn't realize the oddness of this until I realized I had to get the bird out.

It wasn't "just a sparrow," like so many people think of birds. I have not seen many "just sparrows" in Africa so far, but I'm sure they are around. They're probably just more industrious than their loitering distant cousins, those rotund pigeons that I have not seen in Africa. I recall getting a glimpse of green on its busy breast, and even white and black played across its wings. It was a healthy bird, a good-sized creature, and I was even more disappointed for this to see it trapped inside my stairwell.

I knew, of course, how it got trapped. The wall facing the courtyard of my apartment complex is basically a four-story wall of glass windows. The gate at the bottom is unlocked first thing in the morning, and who can blame a bird for flying in to my top floor? Flying up- it's what birds do.

When I found this bird, it was huddled in the corner on the floor. It began to fly when it saw me. I hesitated for a second, weighing the choices we always have: to free it, or leave it? I have had the feeling that time can always wait for people and animals because they won't be around forever for a while. In my heart, though, I know I am still a Westerner, and raised in a time-oriented schedule, not an event-oriented schedule like much of Africa.

At about the time I got close to it and started to imagine it pecking at my hands in some Hitchcockian fashion (why would I have to touch it or pick it up? my alibi is zero caffeine), it begin to fly and throw itself against the windows. When I opened a window, it decided the best direction to go was away from the window. I decided, in turn, to take the simple approach.

I am so glad no one was in the stairwell to see me lifting my hands over my head, trying to take up as much of the open space in the stairwell as possible. I figured that if I looked that big and threatening, the bird would surely be intimidated and move away and we could avoid any unpleasant avian altercations. This time, the bird caught my vibes and began to fly downstairs a level at a time, trying to keep ahead of this skinny man with his arms outstretched like a goon. I'm not sure if that's really why it flew away, because my degree isn't in Advanced Bird Logic.The gate was thankfully unlocked at the ground floor, and the bird seemed to fly away. I marveled at how easy it was when we seemed to finally understand each other. At about this point, I chuckled about the Bob Marley song and thought about the kinds of breakfast food I could order with guacamole.

After I ate breakfast and had some time out, I came back to my apartment and started writing this blog. "What a great day," I thought. "Here we are: I woke up today, enjoyed some time with a friend and a good breakfast, and I saved a bird. It's far and away a good day!" I then stepped out again to run an errand. Upon returning within an hour again to my apartment, I was startled to find some kind of rustling or shuffling up a few levels in the stairwell. I walked slowly, craning and focusing on discerning the source of this odd noise. as I climbed. The groundskeeper mopping? No, he had already been here, as the floor in the stairwell was wet and now free from the bird droppings of this morning. I purged the thought of a shadowy assailant lurking in wait for me at my landing as I reached my floor (why have I ever doubted my imagination?).

I was startled to see what I am 97.2% sure was the same ruddy bird perched on the landing's railing. I got myself situated and offloaded from my errand, and muttered under my breath about that bird. I was sure I had pegged the blighter because of that inescapable patch of green on its chest. Now, as I came out to shepherd the bird yet again,  I noticed it had a cheeky little crest atop its head that I hadn't noticed before. Writing this now, I am inclined to think of my own hair and my penchant for the color green. After the bird flew downstairs again, seeming to dance on the line of impudence and disobedience, I thought about what I would do with this blog post now.

A question and allegory briefly crept into my head as I hoped the bird had finally flown away downstairs to its freedom. Why would that bird come back to be trapped again? It seemed as though it had come back purposefully, willingly. I imagined myself as that bird, and if God had been in my position. I am beyond glad that our God "is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love," and that His ways are not our ways (Joel 2:13 ESV; Isaiah 55:8 ESV). "'For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts,'" He declares through the mouth of the prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 55:9 ESV). But there is more. Further, respectively: "'Yet even now,' declares the Lord, 'return to Me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and rend your hearts and not your garments,'" and "let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that He may have compassion on him, and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon." (Joel 2:12-13a ESV; Isaiah 55:7 ESV)

I love that, the image of rending hearts, not garments. However, birds don't know any better, and I was left with the constant realization that I will be again trapped in sin and come back seeking freedom offered by my Creator again and again. Clothes can be bought at many places, in many styles, and for a variety of prices, but there is only one way to rend and bring about a new heart. That is through confession and the absolution offered by God. We are to always seek His face and His will in our lives. Christ is the bridge between our unworthy deeds and the rightfully high standards maintained by God the Father in the Law, and during Holy Week and Good Friday, we are especially able to appreciate His total fulfillment of the Law and prophecies which we were never able to fully obey or understand.

Dear Heavenly Father,
as I ponder the humble and almighty sacrifice of Christ, Your Son, I give thanks that He did what I cannot. He lived a perfect life, fulfilled every precept of Your Law, and atoned for all sin. Help me this day and every day to rend my heart, not my garments, and so leave the Old Adam and the sins that seem to cling to me behind me, seeking You so that I may diminish and Christ increase within me. I ask this in the name of Your Son, my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.