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Message from Pastor Marty

4:53 a.m.

By Pastor Peter W. Marty

The music began at 4:53 this morning. That’s when the first bird outside my window began to chirp. I know this because our bedroom window was open last night for the first time this spring. I lay awake unable to sleep, thinking far too much about what I had to fit into the day ahead, and not nearly enough about the privileged bliss of being in the care of God, who must love it when our brains take a rest. The digital readout on my blue clock said it was 4:53.

I have no idea what causes the first bird in the neighborhood to decide to chirp. For that matter, what prompts other birds in the neighboring trees to join the song only gradually? They don’t all rush into the music at the same time. Now, it’s different at the symphony. When the concertmaster comes on stage and signals the oboist to play an “A,” every other instrument immediately chimes in, each with its own tuning note. The effect is one cacophonous roar. The splendor of the oboist’s cue gets instantly drowned out. I’ve never fully understood this rush to obliterate the centering note. It must be why I’m not in the symphony.

Since I could not sleep, I began to wonder about that bird that broke the night silence. How well did she sleep last night? Or, if it was a he, did he have any worries about falling off his perch while sleeping? The answers to those two questions are likely: “Just fine,” and, “no.” Birds don’t have the same dead-to-the-world snore fest that we humans do. By necessity, they have to keep an ear alert for danger, and be constantly aware of their surroundings. Some birds, like some mammals, actually sleep with one eye open, just to ensure their safety. But they sleep just fine.

They do so because of a little muscle that automatically tightens in their leg when they land on a tree branch. It is a muscle that makes their toes curl around the configuration of the branch. That muscle only relaxes when the bird consciously lets go. Now isn’t that a marvelous picture of falling asleep with true peace of mind? Even if a predator is to be feared, that little leg muscle opens up the possibility of solid sleep.

We have something akin to that muscle. It’s called trust — trust that God is always with us. Here’s how it works: We latch our trust onto the promises of God. God, in turn, pledges presence. This assurance of presence is shot through the entire Bible. You can’t miss it. Given the constancy of this presence, we have nothing to fear and nothing to dread. This is not the same as saying that we are free from all obstacles capable of inducing fear or creating dread. It only means we have a muscle to match the contentiousness of those obstacles.

The major issue regarding trust, if you haven’t thought about the subject for awhile, is that it happens to be a reality we talk more easily about than engage. Just think how often you speak of trust on Sunday morning, only to collapse in distrust on Monday morning. It can happen in a doctor’s office. It can happen through a discouraging phone call from a friend. Never mind the place. We fall off our little Christian perch unable to bear the least bit of unwelcome news. In very short order, we begin to behave like those who know nothing of the biblical promises of God, and like those who could care less about the presence of God.

According to a man named Jude, who managed to get only one page worth of writing into the Bible, there is “One who is able to keep you from falling, and able to make you stand.” We have to trust our life and our sleep to this One. But whenever we do, we are able to sleep like a baby … oops … I mean, a bird.

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