January 28, 2014
Dear St. Paul’s Family,
Never has a weekend prior to this last one provided more evidence of the popular Iowa saying: “If you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes.” We woke up Saturday morning to brisk winds and temperatures in the single digits (which made for a memorable graveside service for this Florida-born, tropically baked Filipino preacher.) The weekend ended with a bone-chilling blast of 50 mph arctic winds Sunday night that caused a cancellation of my flight out of Sioux City (I knew there was going to be a problem when there was considerable turbulence on the plane - and we hadn’t yet moved away from the terminal.)
And then in the middle of the weekend, sandwiched between two frigid polar vortexes, there was an unseasonably warm stretch of balmy skies, calm winds, and 40-plus degree temperatures. And the most unexpected, disorienting aspect of that time? It wasn't the weather, but a sound:
I heard birds singing.
On Sunday morning, walking from my car to the church office, I stopped in my tracks to see if my ears were deceiving me. There was a veritable chorus of robins, happily chattering away, flittering among the branches of the trees on our north lawn.
It had just been hours ago since the teeth-chattering temps and brisk breezes of Saturday, and it would only be a matter of time before howling winds would surge again through town. But here were the birds, singing “lustily,” as Wesley would say.
Birds only know the here and now. They don’t dwell on what the weather was like six hours ago. And they don’t fret about what will happen six hours ahead. They simply seize each moment as it comes. They gauge the present, so that when the conditions are right, when the sun is out and the breeze is light and the temperatures are favorable, they open their eyes, stretch their wings, venture out from their nests, and they burst into song.
Ornithologists tell us that birds sing to usher an alert to all outside threats and all potential competitors. They sing to proclaim that the space that they occupy, the territory they claim, for that time and place, belongs to them alone. Regardless of what the past has brought, and despite what the future might bring, a bird’s song is an act of defiance against all that threatens to cause them harm. Their singing is a proclamation of strength in the midst of suffering.
But birds also sing in order to lure potential mates, which is a way of saying that a bird’s song introduces the possibility of new life and new beginnings. After a long, cold season, in which life stands frozen in the eerie silence of winter, a bird’s song is a declaration of spring. It is a clarion call to all who hear them that the dead of winter will soon be transformed into the resurrection of spring, and that signs of life are just beyond the horizon.
It’s no wonder that when Jesus wanted to give the disciples a visual metaphor for the kind of life we are to live, and the kind of faith that ought to guide us, he directed them to the birds. “Consider them,” Jesus said. It may as well have included: “Listen to them sing.”
Instead of worrying about the past and fretting about the future, we are called to sing in the here and now. Like the birds, our song is both a defiance of suffering and a declaration of spring. But it is also a demonstration of trust. We must keep singing, even when life has been hard, and even if things could get worse. “Look at the birds in the sky,” Jesus said. “They don’t sow seed or harvest grain or gather crops into barns. Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth much more than they are?”
Now, I don’t know what you do with all of this, but I have a hunch that many of us currently feel sandwiched between storms, between a past full of howling memories and a future fraught with bone-chilling fears.
And I do know this: If the birds can sing while being bookended by blizzards, you can sing right now as well. You can embrace the present moment, stretch out your wings, and dare to sing a song of defiance, new life, and trust.
Grace and Peace,
Magrey
The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
Email: mdevega@sp-umc.org
OUT OF TOWN THIS WEEK
I am currently down in Leesburg, Florida, serving with the Florida Conference Board of Ordained Ministry, interviewing and evaluating candidates for ministry. Thank you for your prayers as we do this important work of the church, and for safe travels as I return Sunday afternoon. We invite you to worship this Sunday, when the wonderful Dave Orthmann will return as our guest preacher. In the event of a pastoral emergency, please contact the church office.
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