I stepped out of my makeshift office (read: anywhere I can find a place for my laptop), walked outside and saw a dead sparrow on the sidewalk.
I don’t know when it died or the circumstances of its demise.
I’m not versed in aviary autopsies.
Other than a momentary sadness over seeing what was probably a beautiful bird, laying lifeless on the cement, it really didn’t affect my day.
However, it did affect God.
What?
With all that is going on in the world, am I seriously suggesting that that little sparrow’s death was on God’s list of priorities?
Unless Jesus was making things up, the answer is yes.
God took the time to mark the date, hour, minute and second when that little bird would take its last breath.
He mapped out the paths that it would fly before its wings would cease to flutter.
He made careful notes on how it would be taken care of from the moment it was hatched, and was aware of the precise spot where it would end up, in front of the glass doors outside my temporary mobile office.
He placed it where this bird’s death would remind me of God’s interest in the details of my life.
That sparrow, even in death, fulfilled its purpose. How much more should I be confident that God wants me to fulfill mine, and will provide everything I need to do so?
I suppose I should shuffle the poor bird’s remains into the grassy area next to the sidewalk, a more appropriate burial ground.
But for now, I look, I remember, and I whisper a prayer of gratitude to him that watches over me.
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