On Sparrows and Saint Francis

The past few months have been a blur of activity in Karl’s universe. I’m sure many of you can empathize with me in experiencing those times of life when you’re not sure how such a short span of time could have passed so quickly and could have contained so much. Since June I traveled to a staff conference, mailed resumes and applications for various jobs, contemplated my future with campus ministry, moved from my cramped apartment into a new house, and taken a short trip with my family overseas to Spain. I am overjoyed by these opportunities and wouldn’t trade them for anything. God reveals the scope of his love through each new person, place, and thing I happen upon.

Needless to say, there are times that I feel distracted, disconnected, emotionally anemic, and lost amidst all the responsibilities I’ve inherited. I experience a looming anxiety regarding the decision I must make next year about choosing to pursue campus ministry or furthering my own education. I face constant reminders that young men my age are expected to be doing much more with their lives than I am. The work with students is seldom gratifying, and I am ill equipped to deal with the brokenness of Santa Maria that is expressed in their stories (drug addiction, racial tension, economic depression, and abusive households). Likewise I have failed to get another part time job and I watch my savings account slowly dwindle to maintain my American lifestyle. I spend long hours praying for consolation and yet experience deep emptiness and loss. I worry about my finances. Such is the price to pay for my identification with the One who chose to embrace all of human suffering in the flesh, and I know I only experience such a feeble fraction of it.

Two days ago I was walking in my neighborhood in San Luis Obispo on the way home from a coffee shop when a strange thing happened. Or rather, a completely normal circumstance allowed me to see something I might have missed. Two finches darted past me into a small lemon tree growing out of the sidewalk. One twisted his neck and looked at me with curiosity (I know it was a male because of his plumage, please don’t accuse me of gender exclusion, I will destroy you in bird knowledge) and then the other looked at me in a similar way (this one a female). The birds took flight again in an instant, continuing their acrobatic search to find more insects to eat.

In that instant, the passage from the Sermon on the Mount came to mind, when Jesus decides to confront this condition that still hits me hard as an American male:

For this reason I say to you, don’t worry about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on.

(I love how Eugene Peterson translates the next part, and so I’ll quote from The Message:)

There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds. - Matthew 6:25-27

I realize that despite my training, my understanding of scripture, my prayer life, and my devotion to justice, I still fall into the trap of worrying over things that Jesus says are largely external and inconsequential in the long run. I know, or at least I believe somewhere in my bones that God loves me and will love me the same should I choose to remain ministering to students or pursuing environmental education. Those sparrows seemed to be saying to me in that moment “Why are you so stressed out, Karl? Why is it such a big deal to you where your paycheck comes from and what people are saying about you because of that? You know that God loves you way more than me, I’m just a freakin’ bird!”

I sang the whole way home in gratitude that Jesus seemed to show up so clearly for me in that moment. I know that his love embraces all my worry, doubt, and pain. I know that I will still have times when I am neurotic, stressed out, and a pain to be around (more often than I want to admit). But I will never be far from the love of my God.

(I had to leave my computer and cry for about ten minutes after writing that last line)

I know that I can find happiness, truth, and purpose in my work with students, and would be honored to continue with InterVarsity for years doing ministry to the marginalized community college. I also know that the physical world holds such wonder and beauty for me, and I love sharing my love of creation with those around me, so environmental education seems a good fit as well. I am learning to believe, but also to know that I can find my gifts and God’s goodness in many ways, many paths, and many futures. I am young. I am naive, I am going to fail. The world has a lot of pain to throw around, and I will bear a lot of it by standing in the gap. So what? There is freedom and joy in living this journey as myself. And to think, it took a few birds to show me!

My prayer for all of you is that you might experience this truth in your everyday lives, that the light of Jesus would show up where you least expect it, and exactly when you need it. The words of the song “All I Want” by Future of Forestry come to mind: I will go where strength will find the small and meek/I will go where magic meets mundane”

I’m sure that Saint Francis has been smiling at me lately, because there are times this world seems to be imbued with a new wonder, and a new sense of dignity that reflects Christ’s love for his creation. I could not have asked for a more beautiful gift for this season of my life.