“On the mountain heights of Israel I will
plant it; it will produce branches and bear fruit and become a splendid
cedar. Birds of every kind will nest in
it; they will find shelter in the shade of its branches.” Ezekiel 17:23 (NIV)
A mother robin darts into the
Confederate jasmine arbor at the back of the house, a leggy twig in her
beak. I watch quietly as she lays it
across the interlocking arms of her nest, forming in the elbow of sturdy branches. She’s begun building while I was away from
home, and now I’m concerned Charlie’s golden energy and Piper’s barking as well
as my comings and goings will send her scouting for a new site. But the next morning, she’s there again to
add another layer to her home. I wonder,
is this nature’s way, in her body that only she knows, the urgency of coming
birth?
Then, on the other side of the
house, a mother mocking bird almost pecked me on the top of my bald head, as
she swooped down from the very old dogwood tree. I couldn’t find her nest. I suppose it’s in one of the English dogwood
trees hidden from view. There was found
an eggshell on the ground near this side garden and also a little new born bird
that was taken across the street and put near some bushes so that the mother
bird could feed her young one and hopefully none of the neighborhood cats would
get it.
At night, when I’m settling down
for the evening, I love to read. Many
times, Piper, my little half Jack-Russell and rat terrier will hop on the bed
and curl up by me while I read (my Mom would cringe if she knew about
this). Piper (named for Pipe Organ) will
try to find the best position to get situated, going in circles, moving the
blanket with her paws until she finds her nesting spot. Sometimes she’ll lay her little head on my
shoulder and other times at the side of my hip with her body real close to feel
secure. She feels safe this way,
especially if it’s lightning and thundering outside. Lying close by ease her fears so that she
will quit shaking.
As with birds and other animals,
nest building is blessed work. It’s
purposeful, focused and committed. The
birds select good material to bring to the site, lay a foundation, repeat their
efforts again and again – gathering and creating. They consider the right placement for the
material and shape the form until it’s a vessel for birth – a bit like building
a community.
I wonder how it would be if the
church were even more of a nesting place.
A place where we can be both vulnerable and authentic, where the
outstretched arms of our lives intertwine to form a safe haven; your wisdom
speaking to his need, her compassion speaking to your pain, my story of
transformation speaking to her fearful heart.
And that nest held secure in the great boughs of God’s love. Would it, could it be a small taste of the
kingdom to come?
Prayer: Oh God,
weave our lives together so that when the gales of life blow, our connectedness
is a shelter from the storms. Amen.
Serving along-side you,
Your friend,
Mark
David Jackson
