I sat by the window the other morning watching the birds flit and fly as they visited my various feeders, sometimes sharing perches, other times chasing other birds away. Eight to ten cardinals, over thirty-five sparrows, half a dozen titmice, a couple of wrens, eight goldfinches, a yellowthroat, and a red-bellied woodpecker flew in and out and around the feeders, somehow missing each other without the aid of the FAA and their air traffic controllers. Even on the ground, the traffic grew thick as seven doves waddled in from the vine bed, weaving in and out of the birds who had given up on a seat at the feeders and sat below, feasting on the fallen birdseed.
It was the middle of the coldest week of winter we have had here in North Florida in years, night time temperatures in the mid-teens, highs in the low forties. The water in their water pans on top of the feeder posts froze solid. Occasionally a cardinal landed, gazing at what used to be drinkable with a bereft look. Eventually Keith, the big softie, took a boiling tea kettle outside and poured it on top of the frozen water. At first, it just sluiced right off the ice, but finally began to melt it enough to give the birds something to drink, "on the rocks." Times were hard for the bird population, and they needed our offer of birdseed, suet, and water, so they came freely and eagerly.
Guess what happens in the summer? The bird numbers dwindle significantly. I only load the feeders once a week instead of every day. I replace suet in the cages every month instead of every week. When times are good, the seed eaters can find their own easily. The carnivores don't need my block of suet so much. And with the summer rains, puddles lie everywhere, and creeks run full. Only three or four cardinals fly in with any regularity, and them just once a day. Only the stodgy old doves come out of habit in the evenings. I might see a titmouse or two at odd times, or maybe the new baby wrens who have been taught where to find an easy meal, but who will just as likely forsake us as soon as their wings are strong enough to take them further away.
And we, like the birds, fall prey to the good and easy times. When we prosper, it's because of us, not because of God. It's for us to use for ourselves, not for us to share with those less fortunate. It's all about getting bigger and better, more and more, and God takes last place in any decision we make. And sacrifice is for everyone else, all those fanatics who actually talk about God and make sacrifices proving their faith and devotion to Him.
But when times are hard, boy, do we come running! Now we pray, now we attend services so we can praise God and ask for help, for sustenance, for solutions to all our problems, in exactly the way we want them. Not because we have suddenly become devoted servants of God, but because we need Him now. When the good times return, we will be gone again, just like my birds.
But here is one problem with that. God does eventually run out of patience. When we only want Him when times are rough, when we or someone we love has a grave illness, when the economy threatens the lifestyle we have grown accustomed to, someday, He will not give us the answer we want. Instead He will say, as He did about the faithless Jews, As I called, and they would not hear, so they called, and I would not hear, says the LORD of hosts (Zech 7:13).
I would love for my birds to throng my feeders all year long. And I am sure that God would love for his children to do the same. Perhaps we would do better to eat the seed of poverty than the seed of prosperity. At least it looks that way out my window.
Take care lest you forget the LORD your God by not keeping his commandments and his rules and his statutes, which I command you today, lest, when you have eaten and are full and have built good houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks multiply and your silver and gold is multiplied and all that you have is multiplied, then your heart be lifted up, and you forget the LORD your God… (Deut 8:11-14).
Dene Ward
It was the middle of the coldest week of winter we have had here in North Florida in years, night time temperatures in the mid-teens, highs in the low forties. The water in their water pans on top of the feeder posts froze solid. Occasionally a cardinal landed, gazing at what used to be drinkable with a bereft look. Eventually Keith, the big softie, took a boiling tea kettle outside and poured it on top of the frozen water. At first, it just sluiced right off the ice, but finally began to melt it enough to give the birds something to drink, "on the rocks." Times were hard for the bird population, and they needed our offer of birdseed, suet, and water, so they came freely and eagerly.
Guess what happens in the summer? The bird numbers dwindle significantly. I only load the feeders once a week instead of every day. I replace suet in the cages every month instead of every week. When times are good, the seed eaters can find their own easily. The carnivores don't need my block of suet so much. And with the summer rains, puddles lie everywhere, and creeks run full. Only three or four cardinals fly in with any regularity, and them just once a day. Only the stodgy old doves come out of habit in the evenings. I might see a titmouse or two at odd times, or maybe the new baby wrens who have been taught where to find an easy meal, but who will just as likely forsake us as soon as their wings are strong enough to take them further away.
And we, like the birds, fall prey to the good and easy times. When we prosper, it's because of us, not because of God. It's for us to use for ourselves, not for us to share with those less fortunate. It's all about getting bigger and better, more and more, and God takes last place in any decision we make. And sacrifice is for everyone else, all those fanatics who actually talk about God and make sacrifices proving their faith and devotion to Him.
But when times are hard, boy, do we come running! Now we pray, now we attend services so we can praise God and ask for help, for sustenance, for solutions to all our problems, in exactly the way we want them. Not because we have suddenly become devoted servants of God, but because we need Him now. When the good times return, we will be gone again, just like my birds.
But here is one problem with that. God does eventually run out of patience. When we only want Him when times are rough, when we or someone we love has a grave illness, when the economy threatens the lifestyle we have grown accustomed to, someday, He will not give us the answer we want. Instead He will say, as He did about the faithless Jews, As I called, and they would not hear, so they called, and I would not hear, says the LORD of hosts (Zech 7:13).
I would love for my birds to throng my feeders all year long. And I am sure that God would love for his children to do the same. Perhaps we would do better to eat the seed of poverty than the seed of prosperity. At least it looks that way out my window.
Take care lest you forget the LORD your God by not keeping his commandments and his rules and his statutes, which I command you today, lest, when you have eaten and are full and have built good houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks multiply and your silver and gold is multiplied and all that you have is multiplied, then your heart be lifted up, and you forget the LORD your God… (Deut 8:11-14).
Dene Ward
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