It’s been a rough summer. When my school closed, I lost my ministry teaching teens and the income that paid for my family’s health insurance. Soon after that, my close friend and coworker of fifteen years died suddenly and unexpectedly. I would rather not be experiencing redirection and sorrow.
I argue with myself about the weight of these losses:
They are nothing compared to what many in the world are going through.
But they still hurt.
They don’t measure up to Ebola, beheadings, genocide, or Ferguson.
But I’m still heartbroken.
I should be glad to have many other friends and now a new job.
But I feel like a refugee there, a displaced person.
Refugee? More like a wimp.
I can go on, being adept at arguing with myself and others, but then I remember the words of Jesus to his twelve followers two thousand years ago.
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:29 – 31, NIV)
My Father cares about the huge things like war and human rights and hunger and disease. But he also cares about the piddling things like one person’s losses and resulting anxiety and grief.
My Father’s care is not limited by a tight budget and decreasing tax revenues. It’s not limited by not-enough-hours-in-the-day. God’s love, care, power, grace, and mercy are unlimited.
That’s a good lesson for this half-penny sparrow.