Hand-Painted

Many years ago, our family went to a summer church camp. One morning in Bible study, a man shared a story from his childhood.

His family always went to church. It was a big part of their lives. They also spent a lot of time outdoors: fishing, hiking, camping. But somehow, the two never merged. Church was church. The outdoors was the outdoors.

Then one day, as a young boy, he was wandering along a creek near their lodge, and he found an injured blue jay.

He picked it up. And as he held it, he was struck by the markings on its feathers. They were so intricate, they looked hand-painted.

And then it dawned on him. They were hand-painted. By the very hand of God.

From that moment on, he said, his faith began to grow. God wasn't bound to a building. God was alive, creating and re-creating, in the world all around him.

Notice what he was holding. Not a perfect bird. An injured one. Small and hurting, in the palm of a child's hand.

Jesus once said, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father… So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29, 31)

The same hand that painted every feather knows when a single bird falls.

And that same hand is holding you.

Prayer: Creator God, you stretched out the heavens and flung the stars across the sky. You painted the butterfly and the blue jay, and you made us, too. Give us eyes to see your handiwork in the world around us. And when we are hurting, hold us in your hand, and let us know how much we are worth to you. Amen.

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