This week, my blogging friend Mardra Sikora shared the most remarkable picture of a hummingbird to prompt our writing muses. Unlike the flurry we see in most photographs, this little one is sitting in a nest – not a flutter of wing or a flit of tail. It is still, quiet, at peace.
Good golly, Miss Molly… I wish I let myself feel that way.
I wish, in these days of chaos and discouragement and power-mongering, I would listen to the quiet voice saying
Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)
I wish, in this season of scare tactics and tough talk, I owned the words we boldly sang this morning “I’m no longer a slave to fear.” That I embraced “not a spirit of fear but of power and love and self control.” (2 Timothy 1:7)
So, I pray that, as I listen more closely to His voice, as I quiet my soul and slow my mind, I will feel the deep sense of peace God wants for all of us. The peace displayed by this scrappy little bit of purple and feathers, just sitting.
My lovelies, I pray that we will be the hummingbirds of the world. Those tiny specks of wonder that dart about from flower to branch, with wing speeds we cannot detect, who should not, by all scientific accounts, be able to fly at all, let alone backward, sideways, or upside down. They have absolutely no business hovering, either.
But they do.
As hummingbirds, may we pray for – and expect – what others say is impossible or unnecessary and may we care for the widows and orphans.
I pray that, as we hear the bluster of campaigning and political rhetoric, we will be brave and honest and stand up to bullies and shysters and stand in the gap for the marginalized and disenfranchised – those with no voice. Those without champions.
I pray that, when others say “Us four and no more,” we will respond, “Not anymore.” We will welcome all, doing what we can and what is right.
I pray that, when our financial status quo and comfort is threatened, we will be quick to give thanks for what we have and then share with wild abandon, giving to those willing to risk everything to see a glimmer of even the slightest ray of hope.
I pray that we will be Jesus with skin on, spreading love and compassion in a world of selfishness and greed.
I pray we will be hummingbirds – ready and able and willing, despite all the aeronautical odds, to miraculously rise up and fly. That we will claim the promises of God for peace and power. That He “is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.” (Ephesians 3:20)
And, like the hummingbird, we will be still. We know He is God.
This is a short thought, prompted by the photo entitled “(unusually) still”.