THE SPARROW THAT FALLS

I've been a little sad lately because of my little sparrows.  Things have been tough for them this summer.  I haven't seen as many this year as in previous years, and I've had lots of time to observe them due to the coronavirus lockdown.  My wife and I usually are up before the sun, and we sit out on our screened porch to read our bibles before she heads off to work.  Except for our water feature, it is almost deafeningly quiet. The truth is, we don't hear the sparrows like we have in the past.  We've had an unusually hot, but humid July without any appreciable rainfall.  Things are crispy outside.  Trees are dropping leaves, and my wife's beautiful annuals are wilting despite being watered. It makes me wonder if the sparrows have moved somewhere where it is better suited to them, or if they are dying off?   All I know is that I don't hear their usual chatter in the morning, and I don't see them on the wires outside my yard.  While I'm saddened, by the silence, it doesn't affect me personally.  I could become dramatic and make it tragic, but that would be a lie. Am I affected by a lack of sparrows this year?  Does it matter enough to me for me to go out and make it a national issue?   Am I going to cry myself to sleep at night because thousands of sparrows are dying off due to an unusually hot summer?  Do I care?  I know that God does.  The scripture that this blog is based upon is Matthew 10: 29-31.  Jesus was trying to make the disciples understand how much God cared for them, and He pulled His example from the sparrows which were in abundance.  There is one truth in the scripture that gets overlooked, and that is that the sparrows fall to the ground. God doesn't rescue the poor sparrow, but knows when it falls to the ground.  The course of life is death, and every day thousands of people will pass this vale in utter anonymity, without notice, and without fanfare.  One of the things that the coronavirus has done to me, is to cause me to be ambivalent about the sorrow all around me.  Mostly because it doesn't affect me.  This entire year has been a set of circumstances that don't affect me personally in any great way, but the effects are felt by me, and I'm sure billions of others.  

The course of nature often appears cruel, and heartless.  You can try to frame it in your human terms, or you can just accept the fact that life isn't always easy.  There is a virus out there that is sniping away at people my age and older.  It is cruel and indiscriminate, but it is an act of nature.  I don't believe that God is using this virus to pass judgement on mankind.  I don't believe Satan created this virus. What makes this virus unique is how WE are handling it.  We haven't handled it well.  Maybe it is because it is something that kills the weakest among us, and we don't have the means to do anything about it.  For all our scientific prowess, our understanding of genetics, and our ability to create medicines, we seem helpless in the face of this faceless killer.  More than anything, I believe people are truly afraid.  Will they be the one that is struck down?  To make it more personal, will I be struck down?  Will my fetching bride of 46 years be struck down?  Will my parents who are in their middle eighties be struck down?  The raging fear of the unknown has revealed our true hopeless nature.  That is why I say we haven't handled this virus well.  If you want to prove it, just look at the WORLD'S reaction to mask wearing.  It is amazing to me that we are focused on a little piece of cloth to protect us from this virus, and how each of us view it.  The mask isn't an immunity from the virus, it is to protect others from us if WE have it.  I don't know how many times I've heard someone say; "I don't know how they got it, they were wearing a mask."   

That is where a trust in God comes in.  I don't believe in immunity from life's tragedies just because of my faith in God.  I don't believe I have a ledger that I can point to and convince God of my worth.  A matter of fact, the opposite is true.  He tells me in that lovely passage in Matthew, that I am worth more than a flock of sparrows, and that He knows when I am going to pass this vale.  I came to the knowledge that I am on a sure path to death many years ago.  The moment I was born, I was dying.  BUT, I am more than this shell I walk in.  This physical body is only a vessel, a tent, a garment, that I put on to walk this vale.  David Bragg is somewhere beyond the eyes that peer out at this life with wonder and awe.  The coronavirus can't take that away.  I am going to die, case closed.  This year my body began to betray me in ways that I haven't experienced before.  I've abused it for most of my adult life, and now it is telling me that it is time to pay the piper.  If I should succumb to the virus, it is well with me.  This world hasn't been my home for over 55 years, and another few years won't make it any more so. I have a home prepared for me.  

For all of those of you who are living in fear, I hurt for you.  I am in deep sorrow because you don't know the peace that passes understanding.  I can't make you believe in Christ Jesus, and many people will die of this virus without coming to a saving knowledge of Jesus.  That breaks my heart, and I'm sure it breaks God's heart.  You see, He does know the sparrows that fall to the ground, and He does know those who have died, and will die due to coronavirus.  They are worth everything to Him.  Still, they will fall.  

RELIGIOUS SPARROWS

It's early Sunday morning the week after 'Easter.'  I'll call it Easter, because like it or not, Christians co-opted the holiday long ago and just like Christmas, we kind of own it now.  Dawn is about an hour away, and I have a sparrow beginning to sing outside on the telephone wires outside.  I still haven't figured out why sparrows aren't religious observers of the Lord's day. Does it irritate God that they refuse to observe His day?  Why aren't there religious sparrows?  Don't they know that there is a pandemic happening?  Sparrows don't appear to be observing social distancing, nor have I seen one of them wearing a mask.  Would they still congregate at our little church?  Maybe they just didn't listen to the major news outlets, or the daily briefings from our Governor.  Then again if they won't be quiet on Sundays in observance of the Lord's day, what makes us think they would care what our government is saying.  'Hey, let's all fly up to the telephone wire and wait for the sun to come out and make us warm for the day.'  Despite the song of the non-religious sparrows, it is as remarkably quiet as it was last Sunday.  It rained last night, and the air has that fresh scent of Spring, even as I'm writing this, there is a gentle mist falling outside. I'm still awestruck by the absence of vehicular noise. 
Throughout my life, I've always heard 'car' noises as a background to my life experience.  When my family moved to El Paso, Texas in 1960, our little trailer was parked on the corner of a busy intersection at the edge of Fort Bliss.  Less than a hundred feet away was a bar where I remember hearing the blare of the Jukebox and the occasional gunshot.  I don't remember sparrows singing.
The sounds of modern life were written into my memories long before I even understood what they meant.  Unlike my Grandmother who used to boast that she'd seen us (mankind) go from horse and buggy, to the moon, I have only known the drone of cars, planes, trains, and the busy sounds of modern life.  I've never known a living room without a TV, or a telephone for that matter.  When we first moved to El Paso, we lived about a mile beyond the runway at Biggs Air Force Base, which was still home to B-52's.  Every morning they would take off at 5 am and they became my 5 o'clock alarm clock.  To this day, I still wake up naturally at 5 in the morning.  Why am I saying all of this?  Because, it is almost disconcerting to me to not hear the constant steady drone of cars in the distance, even on a Sunday.  Yes, there was a time when we lived out beyond the city, but we were close enough to a major thoroughfare that the sound of cars, the local wood mill, and a fashion box company were easily heard in the early morning hours.
Now that I live in the city, it is mind boggling to not hear one vehicle in the distance.  I'm sure it will begin again in about an hour or two, but for right now, silence is a sound I'm not accustomed to.  What is amazing to me is that even on Sundays this city is a busy place.  Even more amazing to me is the knowledge that it took a small insignificant virus to do this.  Something we can't see with our naked eye did what massive armies have never done before, and brought the world to its knees.  Perhaps, we should have gone to our knees sooner, to ask God for help against this unseen foe, but I'm not going to be religious about it. In the thirty minutes it has taken me to get this far in the blog, (I'm very careful about the words I use) there is a slight blue tinge in the eastern sky.  I can hear more birds beginning to chirp in the distance even as a light mist falls.  Ahhhh, the sound of life.  Finally, one of my neighbors fired up their truck, and must be headed off to work somewhere...on a Sunday.  Life still happens, even on a Sunday morning.  Life still happens on Sabbath days, Holy days, and every day we human beings have marked as being sacred.
Life goes on, and that is the lesson we should be learning from this pandemic.  In the United States, approximately six thousand people die everyday.  That was before the Coronavirus pandemic.  (The number is actually a little higher, but is actually not a known number.)  Death, although tragic, is still the end result of life. My little sparrow friends live about 3 years, and they don't worry about M-95 masks or other things that we humans obsess over.  They just live.  That is why I worry about them being non-religious.  How can they sing so brightly every day when their lives are so short?  Why don't they build huge edifices to congregate in and sing worshipful songs to God?  I truly don't think there are any religious sparrows!  I don't understand why God still cares about them, but Jesus told us that God sees every one of them that falls to the ground.  You'd think that sparrows would be the most religious beings on this planet.  God said He cares about them, that should be earth shattering news to them.  You'd think they would be motivated to find ways to prolong their short lives.  They don't seem to care!  They don't build cities, drive cars, or do great things beyond sing a lot.  Other than pooping seeds everywhere, what good do they serve?  I just don't understand why God cares about sparrows so much. Why does He provide plants, that provide seeds, that draw insects, that...oh, well I think you get the point.  I read an article by an agnostic who said she doesn't believe in a God who would allow the Coronavirus to kill so many people.  I say I don't believe in people!  If people are so good, why don't we stop killing people?  If that logic holds true, then why would we continue to reproduce if we know that the ultimate end to our lives is death?  Selfish, unthinking PEOPLE!!  I think I'd rather trust God.
So, unlike the sparrows who don't build great cathedrals, the agnostics who worship their own logic, I'll choose to drive to our small church, social distance myself, (because I don't have Facebook to watch the live stream,) and be a part of about 10 people who worship together.  Not because I'm religious, but because like the sparrow, I just HAVE to be in church.  It's in my DNA, my raising, or whatever drives me to worship the Creator.  Like my little irreligious sparrow friends, my soul has to sing, "because I know, oh yes, I know he watches over me."https://youtu.be/d4mvCKlov4Q
I'm ready for my life to get back to normal.  The Wuhan Chinese Coronavirus has caused me to go stir crazy, but I know He watches over me.