Be Still And Know

We are in the midst of Holy Week, the week leading up to Easter, which is the most precious time for Christians.  It is a time to contemplate the suffering and sacrifice of our Lord on our behalf, a time to contemplate just how miraculous God’s gift of his Son was, and continues to be.  To that end, I have been thinking about two separate issues that have been discussed recently at a Bible study I attend on Monday evenings.  I am in awe of the truth Jesus brings to my life and the lives of so many others; yet I am equally in awe of those who refuse to accept that truth.

The first issue at hand is Jesus himself.  The vast majority of non-Christians and skeptics in the world acknowledge that Jesus, the man, did in fact exist and that he was a good and moral person.  They acknowledge that his teachings of love, compassion, service and forgiveness are exemplary lessons we should all strive to live by.  Where the skeptics stop agreeing, however, is on the point of Jesus’ deity.  He was a good man, but only that – a man.  He was not the Son of God, the Savior and Redeemer that his followers claim him to be.  All truth and evidence aside, there is one fundamental problem with this view of Jesus:  Jesus repeatedly identified himself to be the Son of God, the Savior and the Redeemer.  We know this not just because the Bible says so, but because both his disciples and his enemies used these claims as justification for following or destroying him.  If Jesus was just a man and nothing more, then he could not possibly be characterized as a good and moral person whose teachings were exemplary.  If Jesus is not the Son of God, then he was a habitual liar, a deceiver, a blasphemer, and an instrument of evil for leading so many people astray.  Either Jesus was exactly who he said he was, or he was a complete and total fraud.  There is no middle ground.

The second topic of discussion is miracles.  Based on the definition provided in the book we are reading in our study, a miracle is defined as an event orchestrated by God that falls outside the scope of natural law.  The author asserts that God created natural law – predictable, orderly patterns in our world – so that we are able to recognize miracles when they happen.  And the ultimate purpose of miracles is to affirm our faith.  Assuming these things, there are two schools of thought on the presence of miracles in the current world.  Some in our Bible study believe that miracles still occur in the world.  By this, we mean singular, miraculous events (not generalizations, such as “the miracle of birth,” or “the miracle of life”).  The purpose of these miracles is the same as it has always been – to affirm our faith.  Others in our study believe that miracles stopped with the resurrection of Jesus.  Jesus dying, rising from the dead, and ascending to Heaven was collectively the largest and most profound miracle that ever occurred.  This miracle is the foundation of the Christian faith, and the Scriptures provide all the information, evidence and affirmation we need to trust in it.  So, if the skeptic asks why it appears that God does not perform miracles today, perhaps the answer lies in another question: If you are unable to believe the greatest miracle God has ever performed, what is the likelihood that you would believe, or even recognize, a miracle that occurred today?

Like many Christians, I have often thought of my faith in Christ as being based on the Word of a God I trust unquestioningly.  That certainly still holds true, however as I gradually mature in my understanding of Christ, I realize that scientific and logical reasoning has a strong place in an honest discussion of the faith.  In fact, logic and science do much more to support faith in Christ than they do to refute it.  Upon careful consideration of the facts, those who have declared science and logic as their religion will, in turn, prove the truth of Jesus Christ - how ironic, and sweetly divine!

For the past year or so, a sweet little bird has been visiting my office.  Now, I’m not one to get excited about birds.  In fact, if they all disappeared one morning, I might notice that it’s considerably quieter than usual, but otherwise I would carry on with my day.  It baffles me that there are people in this world who spend hours of their time examining the different species of birds and their unique coloring and behaviors.  Don’t get me wrong – I’ve got nothing against birds, except that Hitchcock’s portrayal of psychotic feathered monsters didn’t do much to spark a love for them.  To each his own, as they say.

For reasons I’ve clearly explained, I couldn’t hazard a guess as to what kind of bird has been visiting me.  To avoid having to constantly refer to it as “the little bird,” I came up with the brilliantly creative name of Robin.  So, Robin has been coming to see me at least twice a week regularly for about a year, even in the winter.  My office is on the second floor of a tree-lined Victorian house, which I suppose might be an appealing area for me if I were a bird.  When Robin first started coming, I was not terribly happy about it.  The last thing I needed during my work day was to have an uninvited, chirping, wing-flapping creature making herself at home outside my window.  Interestingly, she seemed to sense my lack of excitement at her presence.  If it’s possible for a bird to look shy and unassuming, Robin fit the description perfectly.

When it became obvious that Robin was planning to make a habit out of visiting me, I decided to examine her a bit more closely.  She was a beautiful little thing, that’s for sure, although it looked as though she had recently lost a few feathers.  There’s no telling what toils and terror such a delicate creature could endure, and it appeared Robin had seen her share.  The fact that she continued to visit me through the harsh winter told me a lot about her strength.  I suppose even a cold and relentless wind pales in comparison to the trials she has faced.  She also proved to be quite punctual and reliable – I could count on her presence more than some of my colleagues.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I found myself looking forward to Robin’s visits.  When she sat on my windowsill, she looked right at me and told me all about her life.  And, although I fear I might be writing my own admission ticket to the nearest psych ward by admitting this, I found myself talking to her about my life too.  We might speak completely different languages, but we seemed to understand each other perfectly.  (I suppose if we can grow close to dogs and cats, we can do it with birds).  I had grown quite fond of Robin, and I think she also took a liking to me.  Never in all my days did I think I would befriend a bird, but I guess it goes to show you that you never know what little gifts God will put in your path.

Today is Friday, a wet and dreary day with the markings of early spring.  It occurred to me in the midst of answering phone calls and emails that my window sill is empty.  Except for the typing of my computer keys and the steady ticking of my clock, my office is eerily quiet.  I always knew that eventually, Robin would stop coming to see me.  I knew that we were unlikely friends at an unlikely place and time.  Even knowing those things, I am sad and I miss her.  Just as we are entering the season made for birds, she is gone.  I suppose that one day, she might stop by just to check in and say hi, but she has her own life and I have mine.  It’s the way of the world.

And so, my little Robin, wherever you may be, I thank you for coming to visit me.  No other feathered friend will compare to you, but one thing is for sure: I’ll never think of birds the same way again.