“Consider the ravens; they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God fees them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest? … And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you.”
Luke 12:24-26, 29-31
I recently found the name for my home, which we purchased 3 years ago. I have waited patiently, and am so thankful for the slow but perfect reveal. My home is now Corvid’s Crest. We live on the top of a treed hill, overlooking a pasture, and the ravens (a type of corvid) love to surf and play off of the wind that sweeps and drops around us. This has recently become a beautiful reminder to me of how God has sewn His sweet messages of love and provision into the worshiping creation around us.
I am constantly dealing with anxiety, and needing to preach to myself about all that I have known and experienced about God’s care for me. I have really grown in recognizing what is and isn’t within my control, and to only pour into what I CAN influence… except for when I feel like I have so little control that I am helpless. That is when this passage in Luke leaps to the aid of my peace. Jesus is preaching to the crowds, and calls us to reflect on nature to combat our anxieties. The ravens do not worry, or store provisions. They have such little control over their lives and welfare, and yet what do I see them doing most frequently, from my hilltop home? Playing and tumbling in the wind, feeling the air move through and around their feathers, and being present with what God has sent them, not trying to apply it to the future. They trust in their creator, and they have the beautiful honor of proclaiming this truth about God to us (how cool is Creation?!).
You are not going to be overlooked by God, in the overwhelm and struggle of this life. He has sacrificed all for the sake of saving you, his beloved. “Of how much more value are you than birds!” God has sought you, loved you, called you, and is working eternal change in you; he is not going to leave you to the merciless hands of circumstances!
As the passage in Luke moves on, it begins listing all of the things NOT to be anxious about. “And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried.” And that’s fine when I am feeling calm and trusting, but when I am in the heart of struggle, and I feel that lack of security and the threat around me, I want to look at God and say, “Yes, but I DO need those things! I don’t want to have to not have them.” It doesn’t feel genuine to let go of my sense of need for things like clothes and food. The next words in the passage are, “For all the nations in the world seek after these things…” and I feel myself brimming with anxious rebellion. “Yes, God, all the nations are worried and seeking, because they need these things to survive, and so do I! I love you, but I also don’t want to starve, and it feels like you are asking me to be willing to, because I don’t know where the next meal is coming from!”
But then, I am brought up short, cut off from my outcry at the inhale. Jesus seems to be looking right into my eyes as he says the next words: “and your Father knows you need them.” These are earnest, loving words of connecting reassurance. He knows. God knows. He knows my need, He made me to need these things, I am seen and understood. Suddenly my defensive fears melt and I feel like crying in the arms of a safe and wonderful person! I do not have to battle my anxieties with a willingness to deny them of the things they are telling me I need. He knows me, and he knows what my body needs. God is so lovingly taking me, his little anxious child, and trying to teach me to pour into what I CAN do (“seek His kingdom”), and that He (who can actually control the world around me) knows what I need, and will care for me better than He does the ravens, and better than I could myself.
So I smile, on those harsh, windy winter days, as I watch the ravens revel in the gusts, overlooking my stark view. They are not missing the joy of trusting their maker, and they are calling me to do the same. May our home be a reminder – to me and to all who step across our hearth – that there is a wealth of peace to be had, when we trust that God knows us, sees our need, cares deeply, and is on it. I get to wait for His provision while I do what I can, and seek His kingdom.
Moose Stew Mamma 