Look at the Birds, Look at the Flowers

(Matthew 6:25-34)

The hillside was warm, and the wind moved through the tall grass in long, slow waves. Jesus sat there with his friends all around him, and he could see the worry on their faces. Worry about food. Worry about clothes and coats and tomorrow.

So he said something to help the worry let go.

"Look," he said. "Look up there. Do you see the birds?"

And they looked.

Little brown birds, dipping and darting across the sky. Such small things. They don't plant fields. They don't fill barns. They don't lie awake at night fretting about breakfast.

And yet every morning, there is enough.

Worms in the wet earth. Seeds in the grass. A whole world set out like a table, and the birds come and eat, and they are full.

"Who feeds them?" Jesus asked. "Your Father in heaven feeds every one."

He always has. Long before, when his people walked through the wilderness, he spread bread on the ground each morning, fresh as dew, enough for every family.

Then Jesus reached down and touched the flowers growing wild at his feet.

"Look at these," he said.

Wildflowers. Nobody had stitched them little dresses. Nobody had spun them fine clothes. They just stood there in the field, soaking up the sun, and they were dressed more beautifully than a king.

Purple and gold and white. So lovely it could make you cry.

Jesus wanted his friends to feel it deep down: if God dresses the flowers, who are here today and gone tomorrow, how much more will he care for you? You are more to him than a sky full of birds, more than a field full of flowers.

You are his child.

Your Father already knows. He knows you get hungry. He knows you need a coat when the wind turns cold. He knows about tomorrow before tomorrow even comes, and he is not worried. Not even a little.

So you don't have to carry tomorrow tonight.

You can close your eyes. You can let the dark be soft. Because Someone who loves you is awake, and counting, and holding all of it in his hands.

And his care reaches further still. This same Father, who would not let one small sparrow go hungry, was getting ready to give up the most precious thing he had.

His own Son.

For you.

That is how far his care goes.

So tonight, when the worry comes tapping at your window, you can whisper back into the soft dark: My Father knows. My Father loves me. And he has never once forgotten what I need.