Expectancy is for the Birds
Author: Jennifer Brown
If you are a social media friend of mine, you will undoubtedly be aware that we had the joy of having a family of robins build a nest on our porch light this spring. I did catch a bit of flack for my obvious obsession—and it’s true. I was completely mesmerized by the entire process; from the meticulously crafted nest, (How did they transport all that mud up there? And how many trips must it have taken with all those individual pieces of grass? And how did they make it so perfectly shaped?) to the vibrance and beauty of the tiny blue eggs, and the dutiful protection the doting parents provided as they sat on those eggs, to the excitement and wonder of getting to find each baby bird, freshly hatched in all the simultaneously adorable and hideous nakedness that only a mother (and the nosey lady next door, as it turns out) could find so endearing.
It was truly amazing, as new life always is. And as I watched and marveled, I wondered what it was that God was trying to teach me by letting me in on the intimacy of this sweet young family.
I watched the mom and dad fly back and forth-- back and forth-- back and forth-- all day long, providing as much food as those little babies could possibly want or need. And I would creep up to spy on them as they slept, mouths hanging open wide as they waited in expectancy for their next meal. Yes, they were so sure of their provision that they would leave their mouths open as they slept to make sure they didn’t miss what was in store for them.
And while all this beauty and wonder was happening on my back porch, my friend who had also been enjoying a nest of babies in her backyard, sent me a message letting me know that a different species of birds had invaded and thrown all their baby robins to the ground, killing them.
Uf.
Life is scary, and, frankly, full of really terrible things.
But there our babies were, just sleeping peacefully with their mouths hanging wide open, waiting in innocent expectancy for something good. Did they not understand that their lives were in danger every second?
Oh. Hey, God.
There it is.
“...I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6:25-27)
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition with thanksgiving present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phillipians 4:6-7)
Listen, I’m a realist.
I know life is hard.
We can expect death and taxes, and a multitude of hardships along the way. And the past year has certainly provided enough material to send any mind down a dangerous spiral.
But how could my life change if I put a little more focus on the Giver of all good things, and a little less focus on worrying about the inevitable difficulties of life?
There are actually an abundance of secular studies on the link between gratitude and worry, and how the former aids in combating the latter. In one article, The Harvard Business Review explained, “When we express gratitude, our brain releases dopamine and serotonin—two hormones that make us feel lighter and happier inside.” How incredible is it that God created our bodies to reward obedience to His instructions?
I participated in a Bible study last fall, and the entire focus of the study was gratitude. Our homework was simple; as we noticed something we were thankful for, we simply wrote it down. At first it took some effort, but eventually it became almost second nature to see the beauty and the blessing in the smallest of details throughout my days: The dancing shadows on our living room wall as the morning light shone through the tree branches, my daughter’s impish dimples, a hot cup of coffee after a sleepless night, a functioning washing machine, growing children, the color blue, corrective eyewear...
As my list grew, my troubles seemed to shrink.
It wasn’t because anything in my life changed, but my focus did. And as my focus shifted, my expectations followed suit.
After the study ended, I gradually forgot to prioritize intentional gratitude and slipped back into my natural realist mode. I would wake up in the mornings expecting to be tired, expecting to spend my day wiping butts and cleaning up after little tornados and playing the role of underappreciated chef and chauffeur... Wishing away the hours, just hoping to make it to bedtime without having a massive emotional meltdown.
Then those birds happened. Those naked, fragile, little, tiny baby birds-- sleeping with their mouths open in expectancy of provision and blessings. Can I just be a little bit more like them? Not in an entitled way (Listen, God doesn’t owe me anything. He’s already generously given me the gift salvation, and if He never sent another blessing my way, that would be 100% more than enough.), but with a heart full of gratitude for what He’s already done, and faith-filled expectancy for what He has in store for me.
