Today, as I sat in my office chair and peered out my window, I noticed a chipmunk. It led me to watch it and ponder what possibly consumed its mind. It had no schedule to keep, no obligations that needed fulfilling, no appearances that needed to be kept, and no bills that required payment. It simply scavenged for its food—the entirety of its effort was spent on meeting the needs of the here and now.
My focus then shifted to the robins bouncing throughout the yard in search of unsuspecting worms emerging from the ground, soaked by last night’s storms. The chorus of their chirping drew me into the music of life hidden among the trees. An orchestra of many parts, layer upon layer of God’s beautiful design, a seeming repetition of harmonies, constructing a symphony united in worship. What were they saying? What were they feeling? What was their purpose? Imagine the delight of their Creator. He saw it and called this “good.”
Jesus tells us that the One who knows every hair on our heads feeds them, despite them never planting, harvesting, or storing food beyond the next winter. Do they know? Are they aware of this love? Are they conscious of the One who watches constantly over them? Do they contemplate and stress over each decision they make, wondering if “this is God’s will?” Or do they simply go about their business, day after day, finding joy in that day’s activities and satisfaction in their simple toil?
How blessed they must be to never think they must earn a love freely given to them. How much joy they must have to never concern themselves with seeking the approval of a God who created them with such splendor and detail. How at peace they must be to never wonder if they have been neglected by the Great Provider. Yet how cursed they are to never know the intimacy offered by the Same.
Though here we are, with an invitation extended to us. Jesus calls us to know the One who our hearts so desperately long for. But we find ourselves distracted by so many little things—lost and entangled by the cares of this world. Our clothes are torn from the briars and thorns of our affections. We label them “important,” and so our hearts are paralyzed. We are prisoners held captive by our own devices.
But if God cares so much for the wildflowers, will He not care for us? What taught us to reject such love? What has deceived us into believing that we must earn approval? Why do we feel so neglected and distant? Yahweh is not the standoffish, disinterested recluse of Deism. He is the One who watches over the creatures who give Him no second thought. They don’t strive and strain to craft a worship experience, hoping to appeal to God’s favor and attract others to do the same. Their days aren’t spent wondering if they are in step with God’s plans and designs. Their simple lives are worship, and their innocence fascinates us, making us wish our own lives were as carefree. And there Jesus is, offering us the same.
“Look at the birds,” he welcomes us. “Look at the lilies of the field.” As Jesus speaks to us from a distance, we turn and see a warm smile on his face. It’s a smile that communicates an unfamiliar delight, and it bids us to follow and trust Him. And deep down, we know that we can because He is the only one who fully knows us—who we truly are. He knows this is what we need. This is all that we ultimately want. To be known. To receive healing. To find rest. To live in freedom. To know unconditional acceptance. To have peace in faithful provision.
He cares for us. We are not forgotten. We are more valuable than all creation.