Many a thought flutters around in my head, whether I’m thought about by anyone at all. Jesus gave a warning that the cares of this life can cause us to miss how simply a lily or a bird lives by how complicatedly we sometimes do.
And those cares, according to Oswald Chambers, can be either having money or not having money, having friends or not having them. I can be careful (full of care) over the financial condition in which I find myself at this point in life. Being single also has a socially isolating effect as well.
But what Jesus says makes me think; what is it that lilies and birds know that I don’t know? The attention paid by both says a lot, e.g., they concentrate on living, they are unconscious of what they are.
Watch a little sparrow, how endlessly they jerk their little heads and hop about so erratically. They concentrate their efforts on surviving, yes. But more so on being a bird, looking for what the hand of God has left for them to find.
Lilies, as far as I know, have no brains or nerves or eyes, and yet they follow the warmth of the sunlit day from horizon to horizon, drinking in what makes them live and what makes them lilies.
Yet we may rightly contend that the sparrow and the lily are quite unaware of what they are doing by being what they are being. Lilies, after all, are mostly underground, mostly entombed.
They do best when planted deeply, and rarely produce flowers until the second year. The significance of the bloom owes to the insignificance of the bulb.
I may want to remember that perhaps most days are necessarily as unseen as the lily’s bulb and as mundane brown as feathers on a sparrow. And as carefully cared for.