Climb Inside and Rest

A singular oakleaf hydrangea tree is planted on the side of our yard.  It stands alone in a circular area with its skinny little trunk and broad, cone-shaped parasol of bright-green leaves and distinctive, small, white flowers.  A few months ago, my husband Jeff spotted something in the tree.  Tucked away—hidden deep inside its dense, leafy foliage—was a bird’s nest.  As he spied a little further, he noticed it was inhabited.  He quickly came for me since he knew it was something I would want to see.  I peeked in, and there they were, four turquoise-colored eggs, splattered with spots of black and gray.  My heart was instantly filled with joy over their beauty and for the excitement of the lives yet to come.  Certain that the mama bird was watching somewhere nearby, we both knew not to touch them and walked away.

In the days that followed, I would ghost around the tree to steal a quick glance—eager for the moment when I’d find four fuzzy little chicks, instead of eggs.  However, one afternoon, an unexpected storm rolled in.  It was sudden and violent, with high winds and a torrent of rain sheeting from the sky.  As Jeff and I peered out the window, questioning where the outpouring had come from so quickly, I spotted our hydrangea drooping over.  It seesawed up and down in the raging storm.  The rain pounded against it as the wind plunged it in every direction imaginable, teetering it to one side and commanding it to the other.  My mind instantly rushed to the eggs as a gut-churning forecast hit in the pit of my stomach.

“There’s no way they’ll survive!”  I yelled to Jeff.  “We have to save them!”  Always the sound voice of reason and logic, he stated simply, “They’ll be fine.”  And you know what?  He was right.  After the storm passed, I ran out to see if they had survived, and all four eggs were right there, snug as a bug in a rug, as if no assault had ever occurred.  I had no idea how, but they’d weathered the storm.  Life returned to normal after that, and I resumed my typical check-ins in anticipation of the imminent hatchings.  It wasn’t long before I went out for my regular glimpse and found the nest empty.  I had no clue what happened to the eggs.  They were just gone.  The vacancy that lay before my eyes left an equal barrenness in my heart.  Had I peeked in one too many times?  Did something get to them?  As my thoughts sifted through the various scenarios, the absence of the eggs allowed me to see something I hadn’t paid much attention to earlier—the nest.

At first glance, I thought, Aw, that’s so pretty!  But, upon closer inspection, I realized it was actually an incredibly intricate piece of architecture.  The exterior was a solid frame of twigs, stems, sticks, and grass—all woven into a perfect circle.  The interior had been pressed into a cup shape and lined with slivers of green-nylon mesh, from where our yard had been planted, and even had a few samplings of silver-and-red whiskers from Jeff’s beard mixed in with it.  Clearly, this avian architect had utilized every item possible from her surroundings to craft an elaborate, involved structure.  The cavity dipped down in the middle, creating a concave to snuggle the eggs together.  The sides were perfectly tall enough to form walls and swaddle the eggs—all of it designed to surround and protect them.  As stared at the extraordinarily complex interlacing and threading that had been built, my thoughts reverted to the way it had survived that horrible storm. 

It was a level of safekeeping that led me to consider how God does the same for us.  I believed I needed to protect the eggs because they were vulnerable in that nest when, in reality, the nest was their protection—exactly the way God is for us.  Psalm 46:1 (GNT) tells us that “God is our shelter and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble.”  Notice what that verse doesn’t say, though.  It doesn’t say we won’t have trouble; it actually clearly acknowledges that we will, in fact, have trouble, but He is there to shield us when we do.  Just like that nest didn’t prevent the eggs from being exposed to the storm, but it did undeniably provide their protection through it.

How easily do we forget about the intricate nest God formed and shaped just for us?  One built with a firm exterior of His love and promises—all woven tightly together.  One lined with a soft, plush interior that was fused with the Holy Spirit, forged with peace, and erected with faithfulness—all of it designed to surround and protect us.  When the storms of life rage, our tendency is either to jump in and battle it ourselves, or retreat in fear until it’s over.  But the safety of the nest that day showed me that we don’t have to do either one.  Those eggs didn’t do anything to protect themselves.  They simply rested where they’d been placed, and let the nest do what it’d been designed to do.  We too can rest, right there in the midst of the storm, with bold confidence that our nest was built by the grand architect and is one that will weather all trials and uncertainties. 

If you’re currently in the middle of a storm, seek refuge in Him.  You don’t have to battle and there’s no need for fear.  He is your shelter, your safe harbor, and the Holy Spirit who lives and breathes within you, sealed you under His protection the moment you invited God into your heart.  If your storm has yet to come, be aware of His presence and remember that He is there and you’re not alone.  Even when you don’t feel it, rest assured that He is holding out your nest, offering an unwavering sanctuary you can find nowhere else—all you need to do is climb inside and rest.