The Hummingbird

The conversation had been interrupted by the shadow that intermittently passed by the transoms looking out onto the patio.  Could it have been a wasp or possibly a wayward butterfly?  My parents and I picked up the conversation where we had left it.  The last few months had been hard, a struggle – physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  And as usual, our conversation was both cathartic and just plain fun.

Spiritually, I was in a desert.  I had allowed circumstances that I had no control of to rob me of joy.  During my quiet time, I had begun to pray the first half of Psalm 51:12, “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation…”  I needed to remember the full extent of what Christ did for me.  The things going on around me had so captured my attention that I felt hidden away.  And I knew if I could be reminded again of His great love, refreshment would come.  This was the place I found myself that day.

As we continued to talk, I walked to the patio door and looked out to see a hummingbird traversing the perimeter of the patio, either unable or unwilling to fly out from under the overhang to freedom.  As I walked away from the door, it disappeared from sight.  Thinking it had finally found its way out, I turned back only to find that it had attached itself to the brick- wings outstretched- to cup the wall. 

Immediately, a rescue attempt ensued.  Broom in hand, I attempted to get the bird to attach to the straw end so that I could gently remove him before my cat did.  As the broom neared the bird, he let go and fluttered down to the window sill near where I stood.  I reached down to pick him up believing at any moment he would dart out of reach and be gone.  Instead he lay perfectly still.

It wasn’t until I picked him up that I realized he was bound, beak to tail feathers, by spider webs.  Every part of his tiny body was affected by the silken threads.  I proceeded to my sewing room to put him under the magnifying glass and light to carefully pluck off the webs with tweezers.  My mom, who just happens to be a hummingbird aficionado, took to the kitchen to make nectar for his recovery.  As I worked, he continued to lay motionless, though his eyes were bright and watching everything going on around him. 

Once the webs were gone and he was allowed to drink the nectar we set out to release him in my back yard.  I took him near a bush that was covered with blooms and carefully opened my hand.  He didn’t move.  Not knowing what to do, I brought him back inside.  It occurred to me that my hand is rather small and though I was trying not to, I was certain that my grip was too tight.  There was not enough space to keep him confined, in the event he suddenly recovered, and yet room to breathe.  It was then that I placed him in my dad’s hands. 

Once again, we took him outside and as my dad stretched out his hand, the tiny bird took flight and landed on the lowest limb of a nearby tree.  He peered at us for a few moments and then disappeared in a blur.

Soon after, my parents headed home and I was left with my thoughts of the close encounter with the hummingbird.  It was then that I heard the voice that speaks directly to my heart and understanding followed.  God used one of His tiniest creations to answer the prayer that had been on my lips that very day. 

You see, He reminded me that just as the hummingbird was bound by the webs, before I accepted Christ as my Savior, I was bound by sin.  The little bird had completely surrendered his will to mine when he fluttered to the window sill, trusting me.  Likewise, unable to save myself, only the complete surrender of my will to Jesus' was necessary to make me whole again.  What I did for the hummingbird, in plucking the bindings that had disabled him, is what Jesus did for me on the cross.  He freed me from the sin that “so easily entangles.”  And finally, just as I placed the hummingbird in my dad’s hands, true freedom came for me when Jesus placed me in the “Father’s hands”.  

 I will not soon forget that experience. Thankfully, it is not exclusively MY reminder, but a picture of a love so great that He would set aside His life as a ransom for that which was lost.

John 10:29

Hebrews 12:1