Hello,
Everyone who begins their ministry after their seminary
education discovers that there are many things that they don’t teach you in
seminary that you wish they would have.
This week, I discovered one of those things: migratory birds.
I was listening to National Public Radio on my way home from
work and they were interviewing an ornithologist, a studier of birds. As I wound my way home through the
canopy of fall beauty, I was learning about bird sounds, what those sounds mean,
nesting habits, territorialism, and migration. I was listening with moderate interest to the discussion,
but when they started talking about migration, my ears perked up.
Migratory birds, said the ornithologist, don’t know where they are
going. The flocks are not led by
those who have been where they are going.
For many species of birds, the entire flock is venturing off to
someplace they have never been to before, have no idea of how to get there, and
are completely unaware of what it will be like when they arrive. Although it may seem obvious, this came
as quite a surprise to me.
I wish they would have taught us this in seminary.
On several occasions Jesus turns his listeners attention to
the birds around them. Maybe he
was an amateur ornithologist.
“Look at the birds,” Jesus said, “and see how God takes care of
them.” God feeds them. God gives them safe places to
nest. Not even one sparrow falls
to the ground outside of God’s attention.
“If God so cares for the birds,” Jesus says, “You can rest assured that
God will take care of you.”
As comforting as all of the things that Jesus tells us to
see in God’s care for the birds, I find that what I learned from my radio
ornithologist is even a greater sign of God’s grace. Scientists have tried to figure out how migratory birds know
how to go somewhere they have never been before. Are their magnetic chips in their brains that are
preprogrammed? Maybe. Maybe not. It still remains one of those mysteries that inquiring minds
want to know.
From a theological perspective (that is what we learned well
in seminary: theology), this mystery of nature speaks to me. “If God so takes care of the birds of
the air, to lead them where they have never been, on a path they have never flown,
to a place where they will find good repose, won’t God so likewise do for you,”
Jesus might say to you and me.
In truth, every day is a wing flap on an unknown flight for
you and me. Often times I find
myself ill at ease to soar into it.
I fool myself into thinking that I have some idea of where I am going,
but in truth I do not. I try to
tell myself that I have some idea of what I will meet in each day ahead, but in
truth I do not. I try to comfort
myself by thinking that I have control over the flight that I take, but in
truth I do not. In truth, I am
like a migratory bird, flapping into the future on a virgin journey.
I suspect that someday science will tell us how God has
provided for birds to fly confidently and faithfully as they migrate. But for me, I already know what gives
me the confidence and the faith to wing my way into the future: Jesus’
beckoning call. That is what the
event of which we call the ascension of Jesus is all about. The Bible tells us that after Jesus
rose from the dead, he gathered his disciples and ascended into heaven.
It is a rather difficult image for us modern thinkers to comprehend this
ascension, and so some have asked, “Where did he go?” I find Martin Luther’s answer very insightful and helpful,
“Jesus went into the future.” That
is to say that when Jesus ascended into heaven, he left behind the constraints
of time and space, constraints that bind us and hold us. So although the future may be beyond
our immediate experience, for Jesus, he is already there, and that is what I
mean when I say that it is Jesus’ beckoning call that gives me the faith and
the courage to take flight into it.
In truth, I don’t know anything about the future, except this one thing:
Jesus is there. And as the one who
has so loved me in the past and in the present, I find myself drawn, almost
magnetically, to his flock leading call, “Follow me.”
Thank you, Mr. Ornithologist, for now I have seen even a
greater vision of God’s steadfast care of me when I look to the birds of the
air.
Have a great week.
God’s grace and peace, (ggap)
Pastor Jerry Nuernberger
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