A SPARROW'S NEST
Psalm 84

There came a soldier across the field one rainy day.  He was covered with dirt and blood flowed from his wounds.  He looked for a place to lie down and rest, but he felt the pungent air of danger and decided that it would be better if he continued his trek, unrested, but seemingly safe . . . How safe was this soldier which just returned from the battle?  If he came to your land, would you give him water and rest?  If he supped with you, how would he know that he was, indeed, safe?  Is there war in your midst?  Who is winning?

Many looked on this young man with disdain.  He didn't carry himself well and preferred to listen to their talk, even encouragement, with his eyes closed.  The people of the land fed him well and set up a cot for him to rest, but rest would not come.  He heard noises in the sanctuary and went to discover what could be hiding there . . . Surely, this was a safe place.  The people were overly nice and surrendered so much for him to be fed and comfortable, but still there were the sounds.  What would he discover as he opened the sacred door?  His breath, now audible, he entered . . . but he felt, as though, he was not alone.

The mountains held the sorrows of this man's losses.  He wept still, in his sleep for what was lost.  Tonight, even as he entered the sanctuary to discover the source of the noise . . . he recalled his passion for serving God and wondered why so few shared it.

The noise, although concealed and muffled, was identifiable.  It came from the rafters of this church, so quiet.  Many called this quaint place a refuge, and so, for this bird, "the destructor of peace," had found a refuge, a haven, and built a fine nest to outlast all nests.  How could the people not know that there was a bird living in their midst or did they simply not care and welcomed this creature to harbor with them?  Were they also aware of all the other creatures hidden within these walls, the soldier wondered . . .

The afterthoughts of the war burdened this man and sleep did not come easily unless he was bone-tired.  He knew his path in life, accepted it, and decided that he simply must find ways to expire his energy before nightfall.  He asked the Pastor and leaders if he could remain on the grounds of the church and act as caretaker of the land.  They knew, from seeing this man work, that he would be well worth the room and board and $100 a month they offered.

The man lay awake for the longest time . . . waiting . . . pondering . . . trying to solve the puzzle with his mind.  Yes, he was the caretaker, which meant that he had many duties, large and small.  He had little problem fulfilling his job and doing it very, very well . . . but did his job also include the other problems which he saw and heard about, but was never asked to help manage?

There was great sickness in the church, from the old down through the youngest. There was poverty and such lack in many of the members of this church and there was a coldness which he felt as he entered the sanctuary.  No one had asked him to solve these problems, but his heart ached to help these people in more ways than simple cleaning, pruning and remodeling.  Would the people be offended if he offered advice?  Surely, they would think that he had no expertise.  He decided, on his bed that night, that he wouldn't speak a word to the people, but simply pray.  He lowered himself to his knees and began . . .

Sleep came quickly after the release of his burden.  The next day, he awoke with renewed fervor.  Surely, this was the place for him.  Every task that day seem to hold new meaning according to how he prayed the previous night.  Yes, God was with him and all was well.  His secret would be well-hidden.  He was more than just a caretaker . . . much more.

The next night, in his time with God, he was led to Isaiah 42 verse 10.   That's strange, he thought . . . why would God want him to sing a song? Everyone knew his voice was simple and plain, not more than one note variance, and yet, he inquired of God to show him what He meant and what it had to do with helping the church.

As he slept, a new song came to him - much like the song of Miriam.  It was a song of deliverance and thankfulness.  He hummed the tune as he worked; as he read;  even as he ate.  The tune just would not stop.  As nightfall came and the doors to the church were sealed up, he felt compelled to enter the sanctuary.  Surely, this was strange for him, for he had his nighttime schedule and this was not part of it. He became restless.  He felt, as though, he must go where he believed he was being led. The room was dark, but once again, he heard flutters from the lone bird atop the rafters.  All else was quiet.  He raised his arms and began to sing the song the Lord had given him in his sleep.

A peace he had never known surrounded him and he felt, as though, he was no longer in the dark, dank sanctuary, but before God's Throne offering Him a wonderful simple Gift.  He sang until he felt, as though, "the work" was done and then, turned out the lights and left to find his place on his knees, in the small caretaker's room - no larger than a utility closet.  As he desired to pray, he knew that everything had already been "said" and so he rose to stand, closed the door and slept as he would have slept as a young boy.

The morning light brought an even greater peace, but more work.  There was landscaping which had to be done before the rains came. There was painting of the south wall, where the primer had not been layered properly and two sinks to fix.  How could he possibly do all this in one day? "God, I ask for your help, your love, your strength, your wisdom, to finish this task in the way that would please you the most," he prayed.  He didn't complain, but went straight to work, as if every minute all the work for that time was to be completed and then he was guided to the next task.  At the end of the day, all the work was done.  He was bone-tired and ready to sleep . . . but once again, he was "called" into the sanctuary.

What would it be this time?  What did God want him to see?  Once again, he entered the sanctuary, turned on the lights and God's Presence was very near.  He began to sing the new song and his heart ached for the people in this church. "If only they could sing this song and know the way I feel, but I will not intrude into their lives.  I will pray and I will simply trust God to work without my leading."

So, another day started and another and another . . . Months passed . . . the routine the same, but now the "call" to come into the sanctuary came more often and it did not just come at nighttime when everyone was away. Would he still follow the "call," if there was choir practice or a women's Bible class?  He wondered.  Surely, God wouldn't call him to enter when there were people there.  Surely, this was to be a time alone with God, as a Gift unto Him, alone.
Surely . . . ?

The time came when the work subsided and there really was very little upkeep to do.  The Pastor thought of letting the caretaker go, but he noticed that since the soldier arrived, it had been easier to preach his sermons.  The congregation seemed more alert and the choir sounded better than ever.  This young soldier surely was a puzzle, but not as much as the day the Pastor had decided to clean behind the baptismal tank.  This was to be the job of the caretaker, but he could not find him in his usual places and a baptism was set for that evening.  A Pastor should be willing to do all things for his church, so this cleaning project would go quickly and he would get back to his studies, he reasoned.  The Pastor was rounding the outside corner of the tank, finishing the last groove, when he heard the door to the sanctuary open.

His heart missed a beat, but not in fear.  He couldn't actually identify this new feeling.  He lay quiet on the floor where he had just finished cleaning the very bottom of the tank as he heard a sound he had never heard before . . . it was a man's voice, but so much more.  It was also a song he had never heard.  He lay motionless on the floor for what seemed like hours.  As the lights turned off, he rose to peek at who had called forth the very Presence of God.  He looked, but couldn't really see.  There was a haze in the air and the light which shone through the windows masked this man, except for his shoes.  The Pastor could plainly see the shoes . . .

The baptism was a great success.  Three little girls, all under 10 years old, had decided to ask Jesus into their hearts.  Songs were sung; hugs given; love shared and then the service was over.  The people grabbed their coats and scarves from the back of the pews and quickly stepped out into the frost-laden evening.  All except one.  The caretaker remained.  He placed his shoes by the door of his room and began his prayers.  The Pastor, realizing that he had forgotten to empty the baptismal tank and being tired from the afternoon of cleaning, he decided to ask the caretaker to finish up.  He stepped quietly to the man's quarters and knocked on the door.  The soldier rose from his knees, startled and opened the door without delay.  The Pastor kindly asked the caretaker to please drain the tank and check for leaks around the bottom.  As the Pastor was leaving, he noticed the shoes by the door. That's IMPOSSIBLE, he thought.

The caretaker's job came easily and he returned to bed for a peaceful slumber. Early before dawn, he was "called" into the sanctuary, but this time, it wasn't to worship.  He slipped into the room, listened for any sounds which may indicate visitors and turned on the lights.  The Pastor sat in the third row, facing the front, weeping.

The caretaker did not know what to do.  He didn't know what to say.  He wanted to leave and simply pray, but he knew he must stay.  He took his shoes off and walked toward the Pastor.  The Pastor rose from the pew and took the man's hand and confessed that he had heard the soldier sing earlier that day and since that time, his heart had ached for the Presence of God.  Could this man lead him into God's Presence?

They prayed together that night that God would lead the entire church into His Very Presence so that they would all have a new song to sing.  The caretaker gathered his shoes and went on to his room, content that God was doing a wonderful work, and yet, he, the caretaker, didn't have to lead the people or receive attention.  Within days, the Pastor began to be "called" to the sanctuary to worship, but not just the sanctuary.  He was led to the nursery, the children's classrooms, the youth room and also where the seniors met.  His sermons, those which he wrote down, became shorter and shorter, sometimes only a verse.  He would rise to the podium, wait until God spoke to him and then he spoke every word which was put into his spirit.  The children, too, were no longer sick.  The church became hearty and joyous.  People were now allowed to come to the church at all hours, whenever they were "called" and they would worship in whatever room God sent them to.

Months passed and even the neighborhood changed.  People from the nearby houses would see a light on in the church, hear singing and come close to see what they could see.  Many entered and were prayed for by those who had been "called."  Some would come back with full cases of beer.  Some brought cigarettes, some drugs and placed it all in a box to be thrown away by the caretaker each night.

What could be better than all this?  Is this what God intended?  Was the bird which the soldier saw that first night a sign of this church's true mission?  And even as springtime came, new sounds came from the nest.  There was new birth of the fluttering type, but also throughout the church and neighborhood.  Larger churches sent spies to find out what this church was using to bait the people.  The spies would return with, "I've never seen a smaller parking lot. There are no programs - no bulletins - no special speakers - just worship and the speaking of God's words."

To some outsiders, the worship seemed long and boring.  They could not understand all the words and seemed to think that the service was out of order.  Each week, the service was different, as if to confuse the spies, they thought. Goodness, there wasn't even a mention of an offering.  No plates were passed, just a simple box by the caretaker's door which said, "A gift unto God."  "How crazy is this?  We can't copy this and why would we want to . . . except that there are now thousands who now come day and night ––– night and day."

What is this place and who is the wounded soldier?

I was sent, at times, to worship, alone, in your sanctuary.  I was sent to pray over rooms in your church.  I walked around your church grounds each night for years, praying and hoping that it would become a refuge, a haven for those who hunger for God's Presence.  I longed to be your friend, but I could not compromise.  I ached to share with you the Anointing God gave me.  Because you see, He had a plan for you, Living Hope, to be such a place.  It all starts with worship.  When you worship God in Spirit and in Truth, He cleanses you and prepares you to hear His Voice perfectly. Worship - Listen - and Obey and you may still become the 1st church of His Presence.  I pray so.

Psalm 51 unto Psalm 128

Love you always,
Terah