The Sparrow Knows
In springtime, when she flew in with twigs and brittle leaves in tow, did she know?
When she lined the inside of that sprig bowl with soft grasses and downy feathers, did she know?
When she strained to push out fragile, all dappled in brown, did she know?
And when she settled in atop them and waited for life to crack out the sides, did she know?
Did she know of the searing, consuming fire that would soon fall so close to the kindling that formed her walls?
Did she know of the smoldering wrath?
Did she know of blood that would cascade over her young?
Did she know of life one would have to give?
Did she know of loss that was yet to come?
Had she an inkling of the danger of building nests and birthing babes in the shadow of a blazing altar?
Or, in finding home in His dwelling place, did she see only the refuge?
How lovely is your dwelling place,
O LORD Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
O LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you.
Yes, how lovely is Your dwelling place.
From the archives, sort of. While I work out a different sort of fire, and a piece of Matthew 4 burning a hole in my notebook. Photo by Juha Soininen