SITTING beside the craft lodge in Kings
Mountain State Park, South Carolina, my flying fingers busy
with a project for the coming classtime, I became aware of
bird sounds all around. They were the undertoned remarks of
a group of tiny chipping sparrows that took advantage of the
opportunity to search the premises for food since all the
campers were at the water front. They worked the edges of
the volley ball court, then moved on down the slope under
the trees around the craft house. One little fellow hopped
to within a yard or so of my feet. One or two quick glances
in my direction, then he went over every inch of the ground
for crumbs or insects.
Watching, I wondered. If I had come into
the presence of a living being as diverse in appearance as I
was from him, and as much bigger as I was bigger than he,
would I have ventured as near to that thing as he came near
to giant me? I reckon not. Yet that little bit of feathered
vitality, scarcely bigger than my two thumbs, trusted me
enough to come within reach of a blow. Or did he? Maybe he
knew he had wings, and I could no more have caught him than
I could fly myself. Anyway, he came near, and I sat
entranced. Later, in my class, Jane Cutter, of Chattanooga,
told me of "Tommy" Titmouse whom she taught to eat from her
hand, and who scolded vigorously if she did not come to his
terms of time and amount of food. He felt himself quite
within his rights to ask and seek, expecting to find and
receive.
Such trustfulnesses are little glimpses
of how it must have been in Eden before the shadow of man's
sinning fell on the innocent creatures. No doubt in the new
earth these tiny ones will have a confiding trust in the
benevolence of the larger creatures. In the meantime we who
are not really so big ourselves, except in our own opinions,
can follow the example of the little birds and trust the
benevolence of our heavenly Father, who opens His bountiful
hand and satisfies the desire of every living creature.
Not only the chipping sparrows but their
more robustious namesakes teach us lessons of trust. Did you
ever see an English sparrow moping because he is not
popular? The Creator planted the instincts of life in those
little beings; and live they will, whatever the buffetings
of adverse circumstances.
Perhaps one reason God chose sparrows as
symbols of His own children is that He wants us to go ahead
undaunted by the dislike the world may feel for us, or the
downright hatred it may express for those who will try to
live godly. In the eyes of the world those whom God calls
"saints" may appear as "sparrows." We need not fret. God
knows; God cares. As my friend, Helene Suche Wollschlaeger,
has beautifully written:
"Like the sparrows, God's children should
be everywhere. Like the sparrows, we may not always be
welcome; but if we are truly like sparrows, we will not
worry about that. Ears accustomed to eloquent, flowery
sermons may find our constant emphasis on the second coming
of Christ and the immutability of God's law as monotonous as
the unvarying chirping of the sparrows. But should that stop
our song? Fashionably dressed worshipers in imposing
edifices may regard our simple houses of worship as void of
attraction as the modest brown dress of sparrows, in
comparison with the colorful beauty of the bluebird or the
striking garb of the scarlet tanager. But as followers of
the meek and lowly One, who outwardly had 'no beauty that we
should desire Him,' should we not be as simple and
unpretentious in our dress, our homes, and our churches?
"The time is soon coming when those who
refuse to disobey God's law will be considered even greater
pests than sparrows are now. Professed lovers of God will be
admonished to destroy them. Governments will make laws to
get rid of them. Men esteemed in business, professional, and
religious circles will, as Satan's agents, lay traps to
ensnare them. In a last futile effort to starve them out,
the world will decree that they shall neither buy nor sell,
not even to secure their most necessary food. When that time
comes, as come it will, may we like the sparrows be able to
`sing our humble song without a fear,' knowing that we serve
a God who notices even sparrows."
