(I like metaphors. I often think in metaphors. I like to teach in metaphors, too.)
A naughty boy threw a rock at a bird’s nest, high up in a tree. The nest fell to the ground and the little birds inside fell out upon the ground.
Two of the little birds were hurt very badly and died immediately. Another had a broken wing and a badly twisted leg. The last little bird had landed on his little siblings and was simply traumatized by the experience.
The mama and papa birds flew back to the tree, looked down at their nest on the ground and then flew away.
A nice lady had been walking through the park and saw the boy knock the nest from the tree. She quickly ran over and scolded him before he could do more damage. As the boy slouched away, she bent over the nest and saw the two little live birds.
I will take these two home, she said to herself, and make them whole again. So, she gently picked them up, placed them in the remains of the nest and carried them home.
She splinted the broken wing and carefully straightened the twisted leg. The little bird sat quietly, only trying to escape when the pain became too much. The second little bird huddled closely next to his sibling, trying to hide under her good wing.
The lady cared for the birds day after day. She called around and found out what kind of food was best for them. She read all she could. She checked the broken wing and the damaged leg daily, cleaning them when needed and changing the bandage. She talked softly to the traumatized little bird, petting it gently on the head and trying to get it to trust her completely, yet he still huddled close to his sister and refused her attempts.
Many days later, the lady took the bandage off the birds’ wing and leg. She felt along the top of the wing and sadly discovered a little lump where the bones had not set correctly. When the little bird tried to hop around the nest, her damaged leg gave out after a few tries. The other little bird ventured away from his sister for a few minutes, but soon scurried back.
This little bird with damaged wing should fly now, thought the lady. She held the bird up on her hand and commanded it to fly. With one undamaged leg and foot, the little bird hung tightly to her finger. She flapped her wings and one wing straightened out beautifully. The other wing drooped and fluttered weakly.
I’ll give you more time, thought the lady, and put the little bird back into the nest beside her brother.
Several days later, the lady again took the traumatized little bird in her hand. “You need to fly, little bird! I have fed you, I have taken care of you and now it is time to fly away and live the life God meant birds to live.” The little bird flew away. She took the hurt little bird in her hand and said, “You need to fly, little bird! I have fed you, I have taken care of your injuries, you need to exercise those muscles and fly again!”
The little bird clung tightly to her finger with one foot, flapped her wings as hard as she could, and then took off in flight. A moment later, she fell to the floor. Righting herself, she hopped unsteadily away from the lady, one leg and foot barely touching the ground, one wing dragging and almost all of her weight balanced on the good wing and leg.
Day after day the lady tried to make the little bird fly. The bad wing grew stronger, but the lump remained under the feathers, causing the muscles to be weak and unable to function properly. The little leg began to wither. The little bird bravely flapped her wings and dragged herself from place to place, eating and drinking what she needed.
Finally the lady said to the bird, “You are a bird and birds are supposed to fly. I have done all I can for you but you refuse to change, you refuse to fly. This is all your fault. If you would just try harder, you could do it! Other birds have had broken wings and have learned to fly again. Why don’t you? What is wrong with you? Look at your brother! He flew away. I am tired of you. I give up. You must change and fly away. I cannot deal with you any more. I am tired of trying to help you. Goodbye.”
And the lady took the little bird and set her out on the picnic table in the yard. The little bird hopped out of the nest and on to the table, fluttered down to the bench and finally out on to the ground.
A big black cat sat in the next yard, yellow eyes focused intently on the little bird, muscles tensed.
As the lady went back into her house, silently he pounced.
Later that afternoon the lady went out into her yard. There on the ground were several feathers, scattered around beneath the picnic table.
“I told that little bird it needed to learn to fly!” was all she said as she shook her head sadly.
And so I ask myself – what should the lady have done? Left the little birds to die all alone in their broken nest, at the hands of the little boy or of starvation or preying animals? Was it realistic of her to expect that the bird would be able to fly if she just did everything she could to heal it? If the bird was physically healthy again, did that guarantee that it would be a normal regular bird or is it realistic to expect that severe physical or psychological damage will leave lasting scars?
I know a little bird. Actually, I know a lot of little birds. Some of them are more damaged than others. Some have been knocked out of their nest in the tree. Others have had feathers pulled out by mean little boys or girls. Some have gone through hurricane force winds or snow storms that have frozen parts of their bodies and left them crippled. Some have internal parasites that eat away at their strength day by day and no one can see what is causing them to weaken.
We look at the little birds in our life and we wonder why they can’t just “get over it” – I mean, really! Other birds have just “gotten over it.” Even I have just gotten over it a few times in my own life.
But I was never knocked out of my nest. I never fell and had a broken wing or twisted leg. I have gone through hurricane winds and freezing storms and I also have damage, but I have the resources I needed at the time the hurricane or storm was happening that I could protect myself at least to some degree. I have spent time in the hospital, going through a regime of healing, under professional care by people who really knew what they were doing. I had good advice and spiritual guidance from the day I was born.
Almost none of the little birds I know here have had even half of what I had, and took for granted, the whole time I was growing up.
I wonder how the little birds I know manage to live day by day. How do they survive? There are so many cats and dogs and foxes and eagles out there, just waiting to pounce. And little birds, if they are not quick enough, or strong enough, or protected enough, those little birds will die.
The strange thing is, sometimes when you try to help these little birds, they react in fear and anger, pecking at you, chirping loudly, making themselves as unlovely or as unlovable as they can, or trying as hard as they can to drag themselves away.
My heart aches for the little birds I know.
My responsibility is to help those little birds survive. Give them good food to eat, a warm place to rest and recuperate, encouragement, exercise, discipline, love.
And the greatest of these is love.
Love
New Testament Christianity is the human response to the revelation of the Creator as the God of love. Out of love for those who did not love, the Father gave the Son, the Son gave His life, and the Father and Son together have sent the Spirit, to save sinners from misery and lead them into glory. Believing in and being overwhelmed by this amazing reality of divine love sustains the love for God and neighbor that the two great commandments require (Matt. 22:35-40). Our love expresses our gratitude for God’s gracious love to us, and imitates it as a model (Eph. 4:32-5:2; I John 3:16).
The indispensable mark of Christian life is Christian love. The measure and test of love to God is whole-hearted obedience (John 14:15, 21, 23; I John 5:3); the measure and test of love to our neighbors is laying down our lives for them (I John 3:16; cf. John 15:12, 13). This sacrificial love involves giving, spending, and impoverishing ourselves for their well-being. Jesus’ story of the Samaritan’s kindness to a traditional enemy is the model definition of how to love one’s neighbor (Luke 10:25-37).
Christian love is described in 1 Corinthians 13. Its total lack of self-concern is breathtaking. It seeks the neighbor’s good, and its true measure is how much it gives to that end. Love is a principle of action rather than of emotion. It is a matter of doing things for people out of compassion for them, whether or not we feel personal affection for them. It is by their active love to one another that Jesus’ disciples can be recognized (John 13:34, 35).
From The New Geneva Study Bible
