Amature Ornithologist

What we learn from birds as believers

I’m working to establish a steady rhythm in my writing. From now on, Mondays or Tuesdays will be reserved for essays on pastoral life, family, and theology.

We live in an era of technological miracles. I recently discovered that if I take a picture of a bird on my phone, an app can identify the species almost instantly with surprising accuracy — at least accurate enough for me, an amateur ornithologist.

I have no serious interest in birds or animals in general. I simply enjoy moments outside with my kids when one of them spots a bird and, in my curiosity, I want to know what kind it is so I can share that with them.

Of course, I could do the age-old dad trick and just make something up. Kids are trusting and, in many ways, blissfully ignorant. But I actually like my sons, so I try not to abuse their trust too much.

A typical exchange goes something like this:

“Look, Dada — bird! Tweet tweet!”
“That’s cool, buddy. Let’s find out what it is.”

I whip out my phone, snap a photo, and in seconds I know.

“Look, buddy — that bird is a cedar waxwing.”
“See-der wax…win’! Bird! Tweet tweet! K, go inside now. PBJ.”

These small interactions are the ones I live for. They make me smile, sometimes sigh, but mostly they remind me where joy is found — in the little things. Getting to see the world through the eyes of a child is fantastic. Everything is pure and beautiful.

Even with my two oldest sons, both living with disabilities, their youthfulness and wonder are amazing. They have not been beaten down by the weight of the world. Their eyes of trust give me new life.

As G.K. Chesterton wrote:

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough… It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon… The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore. It may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.” (Orthodoxy)

That is what I see in my boys — a delight in the world that reflects the heart of God, who has never lost His amazement with His own creation.

Jesus told His disciples:

“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)
“Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Luke 12:27)

He does not create only for our enjoyment. There are likely millions of beautiful, intricate creatures no human eye has ever seen. He makes and sustains them simply because He delights to express His beauty.

How much more does He delight in the crown of His creation — humanity? How much more in the weak and vulnerable? How much more in the children made in His image?

As believers, we know that nothing in this world was made carelessly and nothing is sustained without purpose. That means each child — including mine — is fashioned with intention.

I can rest knowing that my son with autism, with all the challenges and unique gifts that brings, is not outside the care or love of God. His eye is on the sparrow; how much more is it on my son? I can rest knowing that although my other son’s Williams Syndrome has endangered his life and nearly taken him from us, when I see the starburst pattern in his eyes or the overflowing joy that radiates from him, I know God was not sleeping. He was knitting him together, fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).

If you are a believer in Jesus Christ — or if you are a child too young to yet confess His name, or someone who, by their very existence, embodies faith — God says you are His masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10), just one still in process.

All that is beautiful in my sons will last. All that is missing or marred by this fallen world will be restored by our loving God. He knows the hairs on our heads (Matthew 10:30) and will not abandon us, but will one day make us whole.