In an old book by one Dr. Herbert Lockyer that I found tucked away in what remains of the library of a now non-existent Church of God, in an essay that makes comparison between spiritual life and thought and the animal kingdom, I found the following passage:
“Let us not live according to the scale of the sparrow, always hopping around the doors of the world for a few paltry crumbs. God means us to set our affections above, to have the heavenly eye of the eagle.”
Now, it is truly unfair of me to abuse Dr. Lockyer for his use of metaphor, as his comparison between an eagle and a sparrow served his point, and the point has merit. But I must consider that sparrows have a quite-unmerited, poor reputation as weak creatures. I do not derive this from Dr. Lockyer’s use of the sparrow alone, rather he merely jogged my memory to other pastors and professors whom I have heard make similar allusions to sparrows as weak and beggarly animals. It seems when one wishes to make a positive spiritual comparison to avian creatures (which happens often enough if you pay attention to it), the sparrow is generally the butt of the joke.
The fault I find with this reputation is that the sparrow is in many cases an exceptional role-model for our lives, spiritually and otherwise. How many people would have more peace in their souls if they took a few poignant lessons from the sparrow!
When I think of a sparrow, I think of a jolly little ball of feather and fuzz, humbly yet attractively decked out in mottled and muted browns, chirping away and bouncing about in a most joyous fashion. He is understated amongst other birds, yet watching them as they prance about in search of these “paltry crumbs” I think even the coldest heart would be hard-pressed to say that the sparrow is in the least concerned, much less distraught, by its lot in life. Certainly to me, with its bouncing, playful manner, it comes across as one of the most unassuming and joyful birds you’re likely to see scavenging on your lawn.
Permit me to say that within our daily lives, certainly within the life of the church, we tend nowadays to value altogether too highly the idea of power and position. We appreciate it when Proverbs 28:1 tells us the righteous are “bold as a lion”. We like thinking of ourselves as lions. But then we take things too far, in our “lion-like boldness” we find ourselves brazenly speaking out, not of the saving Gospel of Christ that extends mercy to the world, but on all matters as though we were God’s self-proclaimed prophet and judge of the world, insisting in all realms, personal, social and political our own understanding of God’s will for mankind, even tearing at the throats of our Christian brothers who disagree with our conclusions. In this way we exhibit less the fearlessness of the lion and more the ferocity; an attribute of the lion that the Bible applies not to the righteous, but to the most unrighteous of all: Satan himself, a “roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8)
Perhaps it is the result of Western thought and philosophy, perhaps merely human-nature, but pride and power are often at the forefront of our actions, even when we fail to recognize it in ourselves. Ought we to be bold as a lion, fearless in the face of opposition? Yes, but only when we are “righteous” as the scripture says. Unfortunately, "righteous" man may choose to act unrighteous at any point in time. When our actions are unrighteous, that boldness which we value as “princes of the all-mighty King” becomes the servant of the Devil himself. That lofty view that our image of the eagle offers us, the rising up above our problems and circumstances as described in Isaiah 40:31, can become our excuse for looking down on the world, on the tiny lives of the people below us, proud like Satan was proud before being cast out of heaven.
Now consider the sparrow, the small, insignificant bird that embodies none of those traits which we value so highly. He is not a paragon of strength or majesty; he does not fly high above the problems of the world. He hops about on the ground in search of crumbs, flies in the face of danger and lives a humble life altogether void of the extraordinary heights of fancy to which we give ourselves. Yet in spite of this, perhaps because of it, the sparrow is a wonderful example of what the true Christian ought to embody in life and heart.
The messiah, the “Lion of Judah” who Israel expected to come marching in glory as the conquering King of the world, did not come marching in power and majesty as the “Son of God”, but came in meekness and lowliness, a servant of all, the “Son of Man”: humble, never exalting himself but solely seeking, in all his actions, to exalt the Father who sent him. The King of the world did not march into Jerusalem on a mighty warhorse, sword drawn, ready to do battle with the forces of Rome and establish an earthly kingdom, but he came “humble and mounted on a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9). He came to serve, and instructed his apostles to do the same.
Nowadays we like to emphasize the fact that Christ is risen, seated at the right hand of the Father, then take the position that as Christ now rules over all in Heaven, we, his servants, heirs of the Father and therefore the rightful princes of Heaven, are filled with power and might to subdue the earth. We conclude that we are imbued with a divine right to exhibit power and prosperity, to live lives which are outwardly worthy of our position as the adopted sons of God.
I consider this to be one of the most harmful theological fallacies to have infected Christian thought in our time. Are we the adopted sons of God? Certainly. Joint-heirs with Christ? So the Bible says in Romans 8:17. Yet it also makes note in the same passage that we must “suffer” with Christ if we are to be later “glorified” with him. But suffering is an unpleasant thought, and we make glory about now, not later. We want the inheritance now. We see it as our divine right as sons, but it is not so. Suffering must come first, and afterward the weight of glory. In James 1:12 we read “blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.” One must first experience trials, then comes the crown. God even reiterates this point in Revelation 2:10, saying “Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.” Jesus, though always the only-begotten Son of God, walked out this pattern in his earthly life, serving, suffering, dying, then receiving glory at the hand of God. In Matthew 10:24,25 Jesus said “A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master.” We desire well enough to be like Jesus in his glory, but in his suffering, we balk, we water it down to mere trials of conscious, of mild social intolerance which we exalt as our due persecution as believers, and then proclaim our triumph and authority over all.
In anything but Western thought, such interpretation of our position as believers would surely not fly. How does one explain such sentiments to the impoverished, pain-stricken champions of Christ who live quiet lives of faith at the expense of all earthly comfort, of family, of friends, often giving up their lives in horrible tortures that we in our “civilized” world cannot conceive of? Is it a lack of faith, of true utilization of their authority as the princes of God that these men, women and children suffer so? Certainly not! What incredible faith in God it must take to stand up under such great pressure, loss and torment! It is these people who are truly the self-evident children of God, not those of us who endure so little and yet talk so much! How many of us, like the apostles, could be physically beaten and yet rejoice that we “were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name.” (Acts 5:41)?
So how should we live? Proudly strutting, fancying ourselves lions, looking down upon the world from the perspective of the eagle? It is those who laid down their lives for Christ who understood what it meant to stand as bold as a lion. They also understood the peace Paul spoke of in Philippians 4:11 when he said “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.” Paul had endured a lifetime of miseries at the hands of those who wished to silence the Gospel, but remained content, whether his present circumstance offered him little or much. Indeed, Paul could be said to be much like the oft-derided sparrow, living on “paltry crumbs”, continually hunted by the predatory hawks of the world, yet always, like the little, song-filled sparrow, he could say “rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.” (Philippians 4:4)
If more Christians would make it their aim to live their lives with the contentment and joy modeled by the humble sparrow, God would be all the more glorified because of it.
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