In Psalm 81, Asaph encourages all sing aloud and shout for joy to the Lord.
Sing aloud to God our strength; shout for joy to the God of Jacob! (Psalm 81:1)
Now’s not the time to hold back. Let loose with praise for who God is and what he has done for you. He’s brought you out of Egypt, subdued all your foes, and feeds you with the finest.
A great promise follows:
“Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.” (Psalm 81:10)
It’s okay to be a church that looks like baby birds in a next with mouths open wide, crying out. Their pleas are heard, and their mother fills them, just as God opens his hand and satisfies the desire of every creature he’s made.
You can complain, gripe, and lash out. You can be discontent, grouchy, and irritable.
Or you can spend your energy on thanks and praise, and not only focus on God’s abundant grace, but receive even more in the process!
Whenever I go to a big box home improvement store, I’m delighted to hear the birds singing and watch them fly around the upper reaches of the store. No one ever tries to get rid of them. I’m sure the rafters are filled with nests, too.
And why not? There is shelter from any kind of weather. There’s always a little bit of seed on the floor, so plenty of food. Bugs on some of the plants if you want them, I suppose. What a great place to live.
It’s not a new idea. There’s nothing new under the son. It sounds like birds lived in Old Testament worship spaces.
Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. (Psalm 84:3)
At 45 feet, the ceiling of Solomon’s temple was higher than the stores. The tabernacle stretched up fifteen feet, plenty high for birds to find safe nesting places. I find it fascinating to think that birds were flying around in the uppermost corners of the temple as priests prayed and burned incense. It must not have bothered them, and it made for a good song lyric, too.
Sparrows are a dime a dozen. But there’s a place for them in God’s house. Swallows are restless birds, darting here and there. But they calm down and rest in God’s presence.
Feeling insignificant? Restless? Relax. You matter. There’s a place for you, too.
Even the dogs noticed how loudly the birds were singing. The cardinals led today’s chorus, greeting the dawn with such enthusiasm that both dogs looked up with curiosity. I’ll bet they wondered, “Who else is up this early?” A few blocks away, mourning doves called back and forth. Bluebirds chirped from the overhead wires.
The air was still as the neighborhood came alive with sound. The smallest bit of orange tinted the eastern horizon. I saw one light in the sky, a planet. The stars had called it a night.
We left the house about 6 am. Lots of outdoor lights were on, but the insides of most of the houses were still dark. Less than a quarter mile down the road we pass a home that is bathed in blue light. Blue lights are on either side of the front door, line the driveway, and shine up into the trees. Yes, I can tell you support law enforcement.
We’ve walked a mile and a half before the first car passes, doing at least 50 on this long, straight stretch of road. Probably a preacher, anxious to get to church and practice his sermon. The truck that slowly pulls into a driveway is someone getting home from work. It’s tough to work an overnight shift.
Some people still have cans lying on the front lawn two days after trash collection. There are seven cars parked in a circular driveway in front of another home. They must have a lot of guests for the weekend. A pile of wood from a discarded fence is still piled on the curb. I wonder when someone will haul that away.
About forty minutes into our walk, we notice the squirrels and bunnies. I notice the blue, cloudless sky. When did daytime get here? When did the night sneak away? That moment is part of the magic of the dawn.
I get to watch all kinds of birds from my backyard patio. Birds are distinguished by their size, color, and song. But I’ve also noticed that they have different flight plans, too.
The herons fly overhead in a straight line. At both dawn and dusk, they are on their way from one body of water to another “as the crow flies.” They are all business, and probably frequent the same ponds and lakes in search of fish.
The cardinals, however, flit from yard to yard and tree to tree. Each male and female pair playfully flies in and out of the wooded lots, as if playing a game of tag, in search of seeds to eat.
The hawks circle hundreds of feet overhead, watching for the movement of a rodent or snake in the grass. They never seem to be in a hurry as they keep an eye out for their next meal. Their wings never seem to move as they catch an updraft to keep them aloft.
The hummingbirds hover before flowers or feeders like miniature helicopters, their wings a blur.
The geese are way up there, long haul migrators in a v-shape.
What’s your flight plan today? An easy, relaxing glide above it all, a long trip, or a frantic day filled with activity?
I hear their singing before the sky begins to lighten. The birds are awake, welcoming the dawn. I love to hear their voices.
Their song is joyful. Some people hate the morning. But obviously the birds love it. It’s like they couldn’t wait for the faintest brightness on the horizon to start singing.
I feel joy when I hear their song. Maybe that’s part of the reason I love the morning so much. I don’t know why they are singing. I don’t know what they are singing about. I don’t recognize the tune. But they sing it over and over again, and each time they do, it makes me feel good. It reaches a place in my head that releases some kind of happiness into my soul.
Some of the songs are so simple. A single note, over and over again. Some songs are choruses repeated again and again. Some melodies are complex. When I’m out on a walk, I’ll sometimes whistle to imitate a bird song. I’m not very good at it. But as we go back and forth, their joy becomes mine. Whether it’s true or not, I like to think we’ve got a little conversation going. I know, they are probably thinking, “You’re not a bird.” Just like the cows I moo at who chuckle in their heads, “Does he think he sounds like a cow?” If the owls haven’t yet gone to bed, I’ll hear them talking from one stand of trees to another. I’ll add my “hoo-hoo-hoo-hooo” to the conversation. I don’t think I’ve ever fooled them, though.
Their song is hopeful. Most bird song sounds optimistic to me. Somehow their song says, “It’s going to be a great day!” Even the doves, whose “whoo” sounds mournful, do it in a positive way. It’s a new day. It’s filled with possibilities. The birds just can’t help but sing about it.
From their vantage point, either up in a tree or flying in the air, they probably see the first rays of the rising sun before I do. Their song announces another chance to both live and love. No matter what happened yesterday, I’ve got another chance today. I’ve got a chance to do it better or a chance to keep up the good work.
Their song is alive. Creation was pretty quiet until God spoke and birds filled the sky. Suddenly, there were sounds above the trees and seas. Hawks screamed as they glided overhead. Crows cawed. The staccato brraattt of a woodpecker working on a tree filled the air. Ducks and geese added their quacks and honks. The creative voice of God made this world a noisy place!
That last paragraph reminded me of all the words we’ve created to describe the sounds of the birds. Tweet. Chirp. Squawk. Peep. Cock-a-doodle-doo. The land, water, and air are alive with the songs and sounds of birds, and I’m alive, too.
Either I’m becoming more observant, or new birds are suddenly in my field of vision. Today, simply walking Samson, we saw a few of these:
A Wood Stork is the only stork native to North America. They slowly stalk but quickly snap up fish, frogs and whatever else they can find in swamps, ponds and today, roadside ditches.
Birdwatchersdigest.com nominates them for “ugliest bird,” but I think that’s a bit harsh. The eating must have been good today, since this one hardly looked up when I paused to take his (and his friend’s) picture.
I was sitting out back a few days ago when I heard this repetitive pop, pop, pop, pop above my head. When I looked up into the trees in the lot next to my house, I saw a few woodpeckers hard at work on a tall pine tree. I had seen a pile of bark at the base of the tree, but hadn’t yet put two and two together. This tree was dead and filled with bugs, a wonderful buffet for the woodpeckers. This tree also needed to be reported to the city, too close to my house for comfort.
This bird appears to be a female Pileated Woodpecker. Crow-sized, she has the triangulate crest on the top of her head but I don’t see the red cheek stripe of the male. These woodpeckers like large, standing dead trees, in which they can drill for carpenter ants and other insects.
Waite for it... 