I heard the birds early that Saturday morning. I honestly didn’t remember the last time I had heard them, like, really heard them. Between the inertia of my days and the troubles of this life, I found it extremely difficult to take heart—to hear anything but the refrain from my downhearted, burnt-out disposition.
But that Saturday, on my knees in the old wooden church building, in the middle of my pleading to God, I heard the birds. Their morning song reverberated such a loud symphony of gratitude that it pierced right through the cries of my heavy heart. And the longer their chorus continued, the lighter the atmosphere became. For on the wings of their carefree harmony, the Lifter of my head was reminding me:
Are you not much more valuable than they? (Matthew 6:26 NIV)
Friends, if the birdsong that morning was the overture, then Jesus’s words were the very ballad my heart needed to hear. After all, when was the last time a question had ignited such hope in me? So, I began to declare:
Am I not much more valuable that the God of the universe would provide peace for my anxious heart?
Am I not much more valuable that he would qualify me despite my inadequacies, supply healing for my deepest hurts, and give rest to my weary frame?
Am I not much more valuable that he would be my shelter in the time of storm, my portion in the land of the living, and the very lover of my soul?
Yes, I am much more valuable than they.
You see, the more I informed my circumstances of his thoughts toward me, the more joy flooded in, changing my song from worry to worship.
But days later, while standing in line at the bank, I realized that God didn’t just send that birdsong to remind me to trust him for both the daily manna and the floodgates of heaven. It was so much more than that. As I waited my turn, I looked up at the television screen behind the tellers. The sound was muted, but the faces of those whose stories were being told spoke volumes.
How long has it been since the innocent in war-torn countries have heard the birds sing?
And what about the enslaved, the molested, the orphaned, and the abused?
Do the grieving, the persecuted, the impoverished, and the outcast know that they are much more valuable than they?
I mean, if the noise of everyday trials can drown out the joyful chorus of his creation, how much more so will the roar of injustice?
Oh, that the Hagars of this world could hear the birdsong and know they are seen.
That the broken-hearted would know that God is near.
That the widows of Zarephath would trust him to provide and the Josephs would be lifted up.
Oh, that the Deborahs of this world would keep on leading, the Nathans keep on confronting, and the Esthers keep on advocating.
That the righteous would be a voice for the voiceless.
That hypocrisy would be exposed and power would no longer be used for personal gain.
Oh, that the oppressed, the downtrodden, the war-weary, and the discriminated of this world would be reminded that even in the depths, they have not been forsaken.
That they, too, would know that they are much more valuable than the birds.
That the same cross of Christ that offers salvation to all men also assures his justice will prevail.
My thoughts were interrupted by the soft bell that indicated it was my turn to proceed to the teller. The financial transaction only took minutes to complete, but the perpetuation of injustices in this world continues.
Who will tell the poor, the ill-treated, the widow, and the fatherless that, despite their circumstances, they are much more valuable than they?
I want to be the one that tells them. That doesn’t just pen words on paper or talk a good game in safe spaces but one who stands with those crushed in spirit and reminds them of the value the Savior of the world has placed on them.
Oh God, give me the courage of Micah.
Help me to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with you.
Embolden me that I would not shrink back from standing up for the marginalized in society, for “we are not of those who shrink back to destruction, but of those who have faith to the preserving of the soul” (Hebrews 10:39 NASB).
To the preserving of every soul—for the cross tells us that every single one is much more valuable to Jesus.
Believers, the Bible doesn’t stay silent about injustice, and neither should we.
Martin Luther King, Jr., suggested that our lives end when we refuse to stand up for justice and truth. What has kept you from speaking out against injustices?
One Response
One big injustice I face almost daily is the fact that domestic abuse is happening in the apartment above me (and many around me, I’m sure). I hear screaming every night. I hear things thrown across the apartment. I hear loud crying from their 12-year-old son. If I were in the US, I would’ve called the cops multiple times. But domestic abuse is so rampant here, cops don’t even respond. It has become a normal part of society, even within the church. Sisters will bravely share their unbelieving husbands beat them. What am I to do? I often don’t know what to do but pray. Pray for a breakthrough in the household, in the system. I offer sympathy and a listening ear, but my advice often feels empty. When it gets overwhelming, I have to remember that the Father sees every hurt when I can’t do much more than cry out to Him.