GOD'S PROVISION IN SUFFERING

One evening at sundown, while sitting on my front patio and enjoying the quiet of the neighborhood, a most unusual scene unfolded before my eyes.

It began with the sound of a persistent twitter. All sorts of species of birds lived in the area and frequented our backyard bird feeder, but this particular chirp was distinct--an incessant chatter without break.

I looked upward to locate the source and spotted the cutest little brown, plump-bellied bird, his tail cocked in an upright position. He was delicately perched on the tip of a tree limb. Fascinated, I watched as he twitched his head all about and delivered a melodic series of notes that sounded somewhat anxious. I couldn't help wondering if somehow my presence on the patio was causing him distress.

Suddenly, without warning, the little guy leaped from the branch and flew straight into a hanging basket over my head. I was stunned. Were my eyes playing tricks on me?

Slowly, I rose to my feet and cautiously peered into the basket. There, tucked safe and sound within a burrow of Spanish moss, was the little bird, peering back at me, most likely in trepidation. Precious! The sight of him warmed my heart to the core. I realized then that my presence had, most likely, intruded upon his need to make it safely into his bed.

The following day, still intrigued with the whole event, I deliberately sought out my patio just a few moments before sundown, hoping the little bird would return. Sure enough, like clockwork, he appeared and proceeded to conduct the same ritual of song and dance before plopping straight into his makeshift nest for the night. Once again my heart was tickled!

For the next several weeks, just as the sun was beginning to set, my family and I would gather around our front door and peer through the blinds in anticipation of our little friend's arrival. And faithfully, night after night, we were rewarded with his endearing display, and we counted ourselves blessed for a front row view of one of God's sweetest creations. Eventually, a mate joined the nest. Later, we learned from our bird book that they were Carolina Wrens, and at that point we affectionately named them Twitter and Tweety.

All the while in my spirit I sensed that God was using this unusual occurrence to catch my attention and impart a specific word to me. I know that may sound silly, but if God can use a donkey to speak to Balaam (Numbers 22:28) and a large fish to swallow the wayward prophet, Jonah, (Jonah 1:17), certainly He can use a bird to speak to His child.

"Therefore, 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 important than food, and the body more important 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?" (Matthew 6:25-26).

Eventually, with the turn of the season, the wrens disappeared, never to return again. We were sad to see them go; how quickly they had wormed their way into our heats and had become a frequent topic of conversation at our dinner table. But the words of God's reminder remained forefront in my thoughts for a long time.

A few months later, my medical problems peaked and forced me out of my job. Although panic tried to seize my heart, God reminded me of His gentle messengers and His endless promise to always care for and provide for His children.

"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs on your heard are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29-31).