Learning to Fly
Thou know’st I love thee, dearest Lord,
But oh! I long to soar
Far from this world of sin and woe,
And learn to love thee more.
—Unknown
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I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.
—Ezekiel 36:26 (ESV)
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What is meant by a heart of flesh? It means a heart that can feel on account of sin—a heart that can bleed when the arrows of God stick fast in it; it means a heart that can yield when the gospel makes its attacks—a heart that can be impressed when the seal of God’s word comes upon it; it means a heart is warm, for life is warm—a heart that can think, a heart that can aspire, a heart that can love—putting all in one—a heart of flesh means that new heart and right spirit which God giveth to the regenerate.
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But wherein does this heart of flesh consist; wherein does its tenderness consist? Well, its tenderness consists in three things. There is a tenderness of conscience. Men who have lost their stony hearts are afraid of sin, even before sin they are afraid of it. The very shadow of evil across their path frightens them. The temptation is enough for them, they flee from it as from a serpent; they would not dally and toy with it, lest they should be betrayed. Their conscience is alarmed even at the approach of evil, away they fly; and in sin, for even tender hearts do sin, they are uneasy. As well might a man seek to obtain quiet rest on a pillow stuffed with thorns, as the tender conscience get any peace while a man in sinning. And then, after sin—here comes the pinch—the heart of flesh bleeds as though it were wounded to its very core. It hates and loathes and detests itself that ever it should have gone astray. Ah, stony heart, you can think of sin with pleasure, you can live in sin and not care about it; and after sin you can roll the sweet morsel under your tongue and say, “Who is my master? I care for none; my conscience does not accuse me.” But not so the tender broken heart. Before sin, and in sin, and after sin, it smarts and cries out to God. So also in duty as well as in sin, the new heart is tender. Hard hearts care nothing for God’s commandment; hearts of flesh wish to be obedient to every statute. “Only let me know my Master’s will and I will do it.” The hearts of flesh when they feel that the commandment has been omitted, or that the command has been broken, mourn and lament before God. Oh! there are some hearts of flesh that cannot forgive themselves, if they have been lax in prayer, if they have not enjoyed the Sabbath-day, if they feel that they have not given their hearts to God’s praise as they should. These duties which hearts of stone trifle with and despise, hearts of flesh value and esteem. If the heart of flesh could have its way, it would never sin, it would be as perfect as its Father who is in heaven, and it would keep God’s command without flaw of omission or of commission.
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I believe a heart of flesh, again, is tender, not only with regard to sin and duty, but with regard to suffering. A heart of stone can hear God blasphemed and laugh at it; but our blood runs cold to hear God dishonoured when we have a heart of flesh. A heart of stone can bear to see its fellow creatures perish and despise their destruction; but the heart of flesh is very tender over others.
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Hearts of flesh repent even at the very thought of sin. To have indulged a foul imagination, to have flattered a lustful thought, and to have allowed it to tarry even for a minute is quite enough to make a heart of flesh grieved and rent before God with pain. The heart of stone says, when it has done great iniquity, “Oh, it is nothing, it is nothing! Who am I that I should be afraid of God’s law?” But not so the heart of flesh. Great sins are little to the stony heart, little sins are great to the heart of flesh—if little sins there be. Conscience in the heart of stone is seared as with a hot iron; conscience in the heart of flesh is raw and very tender; like the sensitive plant, it coils up its leaves at the slightest touch, it cannot bear the presence of evil; it is like a delicate consumptive, who feels every wind and is affected by every change of atmosphere. God give us such a blessedly tender conscience as that.
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The natural will is stern and stubborn, and you must rend it up by the roots; but the renewed will is gentle and pliable, feels the divine influence, and sweetly yields to it. To complete the picture, in the tender heart there is a tenderness of the affections. The hard heart does not love God, but the renewed heart does. The hard heart is selfish, cold, stolid. “Why should I weep for sin? Why should I love the Lord? Why should I give my heart to Christ?” The heart of flesh says—
”Thou know’st I love thee, dearest Lord,
But oh! I long to soar
Far from this world of sin and woe,
And learn to love thee more.”
O may God give us a tenderness of affection, that we may love God with all our heart, and our neighbor as ourselves.
Now, the privileges of this renewed heart are these. “Tis here the Spirit dwells, ‘tis here that Jesus rests.” The soft heart is ready now to receive every spiritual blessing. It is fitted to yield every heavenly fruit to the honour and praise of God.
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A soft heart is the best defense against sin, while it is the best preparative for heaven. A tender heart is the best means of watchfulness against evil, while it is also the best means of preparing us for the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall shortly descend from heaven.
– “The Stony Heart Removed” - Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Vol VIII (C.H. Spurgeon)
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“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you…
—Job 12:7 (ESV)
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Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest…—Psalm 55:6 (ESV)
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Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
—Matthew 6:26 (ESV)
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The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.
—Psalm 90:10 (ESV)
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[31] He put another parable before them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. [32] It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”
—Matthew 13:31–32 (ESV)
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[22] Thus says the Lord GOD: “I myself will take a sprig from the lofty top of the cedar and will set it out. I will break off from the topmost of its young twigs a tender one, and I myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. [23] On the mountain height of Israel will I plant it, that it may bear branches and produce fruit and become a noble cedar. And under it will dwell every kind of bird; in the shade of its branches birds of every sort will nest. [24] And all the trees of the field shall know that I am the LORD; I bring low the high tree, and make high the low tree, dry up the green tree, and make the dry tree flourish. I am the LORD; I have spoken, and I will do it.”
—Ezekiel 17:22–24 (ESV)
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The swiftest things are the softest things. A bird is active, because a bird is soft. A stone is helpless, because a stone is hard. The stone must by its own nature go downwards, because hardness is weakness. The bird can of its nature go upwards, because fragility is force. In perfect force there is a kind of frivolity, an airiness that can maintain itself in the air.
…
It is easy to be heavy: hard to be light. Satan fell by the force of gravity.
—Orthodoxy (G.K. Chesterton)
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Who are these that fly like a cloud, and like doves to their windows?
—Isaiah 60:8 (ESV)
“Set your affections on things above, and not on things on the earth.“ Be not like the unclean bird, that will devour all kinds of filth; but be like the dove, that liveth on the “good corn of the kingdom.” And be ye sure that you are like them, loving and kind to one another; and like them, always mourn when you lose your mate; weep when your Jesus is gone from you, and you lose His delightful presence. Be ye like the dove in all these things.
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Who are these that fly as the doves to their windows? Where should the dove fly to else but its dovecot? The word means the dovecot, where the doves live, the little pigeon holes, into which the doves enter and dwell. The joy of the church is, that the poor sinner does not fly to man, nor to the law, but flies to Christ, the dovecot! I can recollect when, like a poor dove, sent out by Noah from his hand, I flew over the wide expanse of waters, and hoped to find some place where I might rest my wearied wing. Up towards the north I flew; and my eye looked keenly through the mist and darkness, if perhaps it might find some floating substance, on which my soul might rest its foot, but it found nothing. Again it turned its wing, and flapped it, but not so rapidly as before, across that deep water that knew no shore; but still there was no rest. The raven had found his resting-place upon a floating body, and was feeding itself upon the carrion of some drowned man’s carcass; but my poor soul found none. I went on: thought I saw a ship floating out to sea; it was the ship of the law; and I thought I would put my feet on its canvass, or rest myself on its cordage for a time, and find some refuge. But ah! it was an airy phantom, on which I could not rest; for my foot had no right to rest on the law, I had not kept it, and the soul that keepeth it not must die. At last I saw the barque Christ Jesus—that happy ark; and I thought I would fly thither; but my poor wing was weary, and I could not fly no further, and down I sank into the water; but as providence would have it, when my wings were flagging, and I dropped into the stream to be drowned, just below me was the roof of the ark, and I saw a hand put out from it, that took me, and said, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore I have not delivered the soul of my turtle dove into the company of the wicked; come in, come in!” and then I found I had an olive branch in my mouth of peace with God and peace with man, plucked off with Jesus’ power.
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…They are those that fly. They are not content now to make their nest of their own good works, with here and there a little bit of down picked off Morality-common, and here a piece of yarn that they have picked up in Legality palace, and here a piece of good work that they have found in the barn-yard of Ceremonialism. No; they are poor souls that have no rest anywhere, but are flying, and flying with rapid wing, until they can get to their windows.
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But again: they are those who fly not on the ground, but like a cloud, up high.
– “Marvellous Increase of The Church” - The New Park Street Pulpit Vol I pg. 77-79 (C.H. Spurgeon)
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We have escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped!
—Psalm 124:7 (ESV)
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Rise then, my beloved, above the fogs and mists which cover the marshes of carnal questioning; climb the mountains of full assurance, and stand there with your foreheads bathed in sunlight, breathing that serene atmosphere which is untainted by a cloud of doubt.
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We have here the soul compared to a bird. It is a little bird too—a sparrow, or one of the sparrow kind. “Our soul is escaped as a little bird”—not as a great bird that could break the net and free itself by its own force.
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Our soul is often like a little bird because it is so eager and venturesome. How birds will trust themselves in winter around traps of the simplest kind if but a few crumbs are used as bait! Alas, men are equally foolhardy: they see others perish, yet they follow their ways. Many sip of the intoxicating cup, yet declare they will never be drunkards; they pilfer littles, yet despise a thief; they indulge in wanton words, but vow to be chaste as snow; they go into questionable places of amusement, and hope to remain pure. Oh silly birds! I mean silly souls! Thus the fowler fills his bags. Young people associate with ungodly persons, and say, “We are not so weak-minded as to be led away by them”; thus displaying a weak mind by that boastful speech. Youths tell us that to read skeptical books, and impure novels, and to hear lewd songs and spicy language will do them no harm. Believe no such flattering falsehoods, or you will rue the day. “You don’t catch old birds with chaff.” says the simpleton; and he hops into the net, “Younger birds must not come here,” says he; “it is dangerous for them, but I am safe enough.” Yet old birds’ necks are wrung as well as those of young birds; and experienced men are as foolish as the juveniles. When a man says, “It is no temptation to me,” it may be true, for soot will not blacken a sweep. Little birds, beware: the fowler promises pleasure, but the end thereof is death.
The little bird, also, when once taken in the net, is a good comparison with the soul captured by sin, for it is defenseless. What can it do? A mouse might eat the ropes and set free the lion, but no mouse will liberate the sparrow. He will have a short flutter, and we shall hear no more of him. When a man is birdlimed by a vice, the more he flutters the faster he is held by it. What is more defenseless than a soul in the net of sin? What little power men seem to have against their habits! They boast that they can stop anywhere—but, alas, they stop nowhere. “Oh, I have only to come to a determination.” Yes, “only to come to a determination”; but to that determination, you will not come. When men become entangled in the meshes of sin, their power to escape is gone: Jeremiah asks—”Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? Then may ye also do good, that are accustomed to do evil.” Such is the entanglement of habit, the slavery of lust.
While they are defenseless, we must notice, too, how alarmed they often are. The bird is no sooner in the net than he is frightened. Poor thing, how gladly would he escape if he could! Souls are not always so. They will be taken in Satan’s snares, and yet say that they are happy. Custom in sin kills conscience of sin. “A short life and a merry one.” say they, as if there could be any true merriment anywhere except in the great Father’s house, where they begin to be merry, as if they had never been merry before. Many souls have enough of conscience, and of enlightenment by the Word, to alarm them when they find themselves entangled in sin; and then they beat about, and hurt themselves, but alas! notwithstanding all their efforts, unless a stronger hand than theirs shall break the net, they will perish by the fowler’s hand.
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Oh, little birds, there is no place on earth safe for you till Jesus covers you with His protecting wing!
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Always suspect that in temptation to sin there is more than you can see. Never say that it is a little thing; for great evil lurks in a little fault. Death and destruction hide under apparently small offenses. Oh, if we could see everything as God sees it, then we poor silly souls might be in far less danger! But, alas, Satan covers the hook with a tempting bait, and we are taken.
Snares and traps are usually attractive. The poor bird sees seeds which he is fond of, and he goes for them, little judging that he is to give his life in exchange for brief enjoyment. So is it with Satan. He tempts us with pleasures, with the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life: we taste the sweet, and are pierced with the smart. Did we perceive the intent of the great enemy of souls we should fly from sin.
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What are these snares? The Evil One endeavors to lead us into a false way, which will be congenial to our taste. We have each a peculiar weakness, and he knows how to adapt himself to it. He has been a student of nature for so long a time that he knows more about man than man knows about himself, and he, therefore, chooses that bait which is most likely to attract us. Oh that we may have grace to keep clear of pleasurable sin!
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Oh, child of God, be upright in everything! However well you may gloss a matter over, and however much others may excuse it, yet if a certain act would be wrong in the sight of God, you must not think of it.
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Dear friends, it is a dreadful thing for the poor little bird when it is taken, especially when it is so anxious to escape that it beats itself, and hurts itself in its efforts to get free. How came it to be taken?
It may have been taken through hunger. Half-starved, it dashed into peril for necessary food. Many true men are in such straits and difficulties that they are sadly liable to be brought into the net thereby.
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Other birds are taken merely by their appetite. They are not excessively hungry, but they enjoy certain seeds, and the fowler knows it; and he scatters such around the trap. Ease of body, indulgence of taste, the joy of being admired, the sweets of power and position, all these and many more have been the fowler’s baits. Hundreds have all that heart ought to wish for, but they must needs be rich, and therefore fall into a thousand snares which they might have avoided. Men are snared by eating and by drinking, by fine raiment and by vain-glorious display. Snares lie thickly around the appetites of the body and the longings of the mind.
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Thus you see how souls are captured. Perhaps I am speaking to one here who has flown into the net. You do not know what to do, friend; for you are quite helpless to break your bonds. You went in very eagerly, and, oh, how eagerly you would get out again if you could! But you cannot escape. Your own helplessness is now apparent as it never was before. One thing, however, you can do: you can cry to One who is stronger than you. You can pray the Lord to pluck your feet out of the net; and He is able to do it, for all things are possible with Him.
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I wish that everybody here could repeat the utterance, and cry, Our soul is escaped. We were in the net, but our soul has escaped. The snare is broken; it has no power over us any longer; we are free from its grasp, we have escaped. Up, up, we sour, away from the fowler and his nets. Glory be to God, we have escaped.
“As when the fowler’s snare is broke,
The bird escapes on cheerful wings;
My soul, set free from Satan’s yoke,
With joy bursts forth, and mounts, and sings.”
This escape is due to God alone. As the bird could not get out of the snare, so the soul cannot escape from temptation; but God can bring it out, and He works the rescue. Hear this, ye that are slaves to drunkenness: God can deliver you. You that have fallen into licentiousness: hear it,—God can deliver you. Whatever the sin that has birdlimed you, that gracious hand which once was nailed to the cross can set you free. Up, up, up, ye that pine on the borders of despair! Jesus can deliver you. He that made the world out of nothing can make a joyful Christian even out of you. He can turn your mourning into dancing, and your despair into confidence.
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[This] ought to teach us, first, to sing, for if a bird gets out of the net, does it sing? How glad it seems to be when once it flies away! Oh, you that have been delivered from sin and Satan, sing unto the Lord! Praise and bless His name. Be as happy as possible. Be something more than full of happiness. How can that be? Why, be so full of it that it overflows and cheers others. Let us communicate our joy as fas as ever we can, for we are escaped. We are escaped, and we will praise the blessed God who broke the snare.
Next, let us trust, for if the Lord has saved us from the dreadful snare of sin and Satan, He will save us from everything else. It is sad to me that any should trust the Lord with their souls, and yet they cannot trust Him for their daily bread, or for help in their daily trials. This must not be. If the Lord has given our soul so great an escape, depend upon it He will take care of our bodies. He that gave us Jesus will give us food and raiment, and let us be therewith content.
Lastly, let us watch. If we have fallen into the snare once, let us keep our eyes open not to go there again. May the Holy Spirit prevent any child of God from turning aside even for a moment from the straight way.
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I have heard of a sailor who had been in prison, that after his release, he had money in his pocket, and going over London-bridge, he saw a man selling birds—thrushes, larks, and so on. “What do you want for that lot?” said Jack. I forgot how much it was, but Jack found the money ; and as soon as the birds were his he opened the door, and let them all fly away. The man called out, “Whatever did you buy those birds for, and then let them out?” “Oh,” said the sailor, “if you had been in prison as I have been you would be sure to set everything free you could get a hold of.” You and I ought to display the same kind of feeling towards all poor bondaged souls. I am sure that the Lord Jesus Christ is more tender-hearted than we are; and therefore He will certainly come and set free all prisoners who beg Him to open their cage doors. He is the great Emancipator; show Him your bonds, and beg for liberty, and He will grant it to you.
– “The Bird Escaped From the Snare” - Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Vol XXVIII (C.H. Spurgeon)
Beloved? (gentle)
Stones can’t fly. They can be useful for many things, but flying isn’t one of them. They can be used for good or harm. They are often used to build homes - safe havens where people and animals can find shelter and rest, but they can also be wildly placed in slings and hurled in anger at enemies.
Stones are hard. They can be crushed, but they can’t be shaped. They are unmalleable. You cannot force a stone to comply with a preconceived pattern. The stone is fixed, its position is set, its formation defined. You cannot teach a stone to take on a new shape, or reach for new heights, or put on courage. It simply is what it is, a stone.
Stones, rocks, boulders – they’re all lifeless, beloved. They cannot, and will not, contribute their own will - for they have none.
Please. (gentle, earnest) Consider with me, for a moment, these things, beloved. For, you will at times, be tempted to cast off your precious heart of flesh and - like the Israelites bemoaned ‘good ol’ Egypt’ - long for the heart of stone you once had.
Hark! Don’t be foolish, o my soul. Carefully weigh in the balances, these matters, for you are teetering on a precipice.
Chesterton says, “hardness is weakness“, but…is it? When we’re bent over, in the fetal position, writhing in pain, it’s inconceivable to imagine such a statement as being true. For it seems as though having a hard stone for a heart, can provide solace, safety, security. We feel, at times, a heart of stone would surely be better than having a heart of flesh, which is left vulnerable, defenseless, weak. We think to ourselves, “Having a heart of stone means…I’d have no feelings…no pain.” And, sometimes, when all we can feel is pain, anything but pain woos us, even if it’s a cold lifeless heart of stone.
There is, indeed, truth to that statement: “hardness is weakness“ - well, at least there is if we’re able to consider it with proper context and perception, anyway. And when it comes to a heart of stone, I might also add: hardness is useless.
Let us, consider these things, Together, please? Just for a li’l bit? Real quick?
Perhaps, we shall start from the beginning, yes? Yes, that seems like a good place to start. (cheerful)
Beloved, we were created in God’s image. We must never – ever – forget that. For this is the basis of all things, really. It helps calibrate our thoughts, our feelings, our will. It brings things into focus when all else is blurry.
Have we made a mess of things? Aye, we have indeed. (sorrowful) But…God, in His mercy, hasn’t left us there.
I believe God created us with a heart of flesh, but when we sinned, our hearts turned to stone – they became stone cold. Our hearts of flesh perished in that first awful moment of defiance.
[3] but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’ Genesis 3:3 (ESV)
And, thus our hearts of flesh were turned to stone – our life within was gone; death came upon us.
We were supposed to be mirrors, reflecting God’s glory, His light, His beauty. But, alas, we became walking corpses – at best – or…perhaps, more likely, statues of stone.
But, God loves us dearly, beloved. He didn’t create us to be still, lifeless, like a stone. His love for us is steadfast and everlasting! He can restore and redeem that which has been corrupted – broken – that which has gone through death.
He replaced our heart of stone with a heart of flesh, once again, and breathes life into us through His Spirit, even now! Our hearts were essentially dead, like that of a stone laying on the ground. But, oh! God, graciously brought us to life again! Therefore, we can fly, beloved! It may terrify us, at first, but it is most assuredly revitalizing to our soul. (giddy)
Let us consider our hearts now, Together – our very lives – and compare and contrast them with two images: that of a stone and a little bird.
The stone is on the ground, motionless. The bird, is alive, with a beating heart, blood surging through its veins and breath in its lungs. The stone, as we’ve already considered, is…what it is, a stone, nothing more, nothing less. The bird, however, is much more. For the bird is alive! And in being alive, it is infinitely more valuable and precious.
This life, here, is full of trials, as you know, beloved. Our Heavenly Father wills it to be so. Sometimes we can make sense of this, other times we cannot. When we are most discouraged, most downcast, and just about ready to despair…
…the Evil One sees an opportunity, sneaks in, and whispers, “Your heart of flesh is weak, see the pain it’s causing you? Take back your heart of stone. Protect yourself. Don’t be silly. Don’t be a fool. No one is coming to save you. Don’t allow yourself to be naively vulnerable. Trust no one but yourself. Put up walls if you have to. Suppress love if you must. It isn’t worth it. Anything is better than this miserable heart of flesh you’ve been given. This is no gift, this is a curse. You say your God is good? (chuckles, rolls eyes, shows signs of pity but the ‘pity’ only gives birth to shame)”
And so…we doubt, we wonder, “Having a heart of stone may be better, yes?”
No, beloved. (gentle) No, it’s not better. (firm)
Sadly, these thoughts, have been presented many, many times, O my soul, have they not? Aye. (deep sigh) They tend to crop up just when we are most vulnerable, yes? Quite so. (tender)
The heart of stone appears so…hopeful, so…safe. And yet, a heart of stone is no such thing. For it is a life apart from God. It is a rejection of His loving kindness. It is worse than death, it is abdication.
But, let us consider the bird, Together, please? Is she safe? Do her wings flutter with hope? She is quite vulnerable, yes? Yes…in one sense, she is. (said plainly) But this is where we must proceed with the utmost caution, beloved. For her vulnerability – the vulnerability of our hearts of flesh – is…(pondering) an estimated or perceived vulnerability. Better said: it’s a ‘made-up’ sense of vulnerability.
Consider this, please: Which is safer in the hands of God – a stone or a bird?
One may argue, “neither.” They are both equally as “safe” in the hands of our God Almighty, for they were both created by God and are sustained by Him.
True, however, to really get down to the bottom of this, it seems we need to extrapolate further why this perceived vulnerability is such a great fear of ours. Is it security we’re after? Is it comfort? The stone, laying there on the ground is surely more comfortable. It’s safer, I suppose one could say because it doesn’t feel any pain. But as the saying goes: no pain no gain; right? Okay, so what is to gain? Can we say the bird has “gain” with this gift of life?
The bird has a richer, fuller, more vivid understanding of life than a stone, yes. For a bird can experience this world in ways the stone cannot. A bird can fly! A bird can explore. A bird can hunt for and enjoy food. A bird can participate in the creation of new life. Furthermore, and perhaps the most fantastic advantage for the bird, is its endless freedom to discover various vantage points, its seemingly infinite number of unique outlooks.
The stone has one single viewpoint - if it even were to be considered to have eyes(!), of which it has none. I suppose it could be pushed down a hill, or carried off by a young girl and placed upon another section of earth…and therefore could have the opportunity to ‘see’ something new. But the bird – with its feet and wings and eyes – can never exhaust its potential for new sights, new experiences, new perspectives - whether that be high or low!
Yes, (contemplative) the bird may, and most assuredly does, experience pain and suffering: wounds, hunger, discomfort, fear…but this too, requires our consideration.
For pain and suffering is more than what this world makes it out to be. It’s not necessarily something to be avoided. It’s not merely an inconvenience or a nuisance. It’s not entirely bad. It’s…(pondering) the only way to see the wide spectrum of life. It…opens up new pathways for new heights and new depths. It reveals grace and mercy. In short, it helps us know Love. Without pain and suffering, love would be reduced, limited, shallow.
Without pain and suffering, there would be no fear. Without a rightful sense of fear, there would be no awe. Without fear and awe, how could one…how could we experience and know the precious work of salvation? How could we see the full array of danger and peril by which we’ve narrowly escaped? (weeping)
(pauses for a long while)
A book may, perhaps, be written about a stone. One might use the most beautiful and articulate words and phrases ever penned to describe, in the most splendidly vivid, colorful detail, its surroundings, its habitation, its impact on the world at large. It might be a fine book to read. It might produce a chuckle or a furrowed eyebrow or cause someone to pause reading and enquire with a perceiving question or two this or that or what or who. It might be a book worth reading. Maybe.
But…
What about a little bird, caught in a net with Its heart racing, its worried beak chirping, Its wings and legs damaged with struggle and strain? What if this bird was saved? What if it was rescued and set free by someone with compassion? What if she could fly once again and soar over land and sea flapping her wings with joy and singing songs of praise? Why…one could really write something about that - not just one book, but a whole volume of books. And what of the kindness…what of the love shown to her by the one who set her free? Oh! What things could be marveled! What things could be explored! A story like this, even with it being a poor example – aye a poor example indeed – introduces Love. The book written about the stone is…black and white, at best. This precious account of the bird – a life saved – reveals color! This tale of wonder, awe, mystery, horror, pain, sorrow, joy…is beautiful. Aye—the one reading such words wouldn’t just read them. They wouldn’t just observe it as a passerby and carry on as if nothing had happened. They would weep. They would hope. They would find joy – not just for the bird, but for themselves.
Beloved? (gentle)
There’s so much more I could try and say. There are many more things I’d like to explore…
Come, with me, please. (tender) We’ve been set free, beloved! Let us fly, Together, now.