Scare crows

Walking through the park yesterday, I had the most unusual experience. Several hundred crows occupied a large tree next to the path I was using. They were all vocalizing at once and I stopped as I found myself feeling the definition of cacophony. The moment was overwhelming and loud and chaotic and beautiful. There was no rhyme or reason to the noises, there was no source of disturbance – just hundreds of birds filling the sky with their brand of sound. I lifted my head up, closed my eyes and allowed the texture of what was happening to make a memory inside me.

In the same minute, a gaggle of low-flying geese appeared overhead as well, honking and talking in perfect formation, and, without warning, the crows became unhinged. The sky was instantly filled with both crows and geese as they flew and swerved to miss one another in mid-air, their combined voices almost deafening. Even my dog was looking up, mesmerized by this event we were the only ones fortunate enough to witness.

Before I could take it all in, the birds dispersed and all was quiet again. My attention was drawn to a squirrel dashing through the higher grass, almost as if he had taken a break from his work to watch the boisterous sky as well, but was now back on task, preparing for a fast approaching winter once again. Sunny and I continued on our way.

For the rest of our trek, I pondered what God hears. Does He ever just sit and listen to the cacophony of earth all at once? The laughter of school playgrounds, the cheering at Citizens Bank Park, the gunfire in Iraq, the cries of starving children, the anger of road rage, the mourning of an American Idol whose family is shot to death, the singing in churches, the rapes of the Congo, the crashing of Wall Street, the presidential candidate speeches, the whispered prayers of underground Christians… With all the noise around us, I think it is tempting to believe that God cannot – or will not – hear our individual sounds in the chaos and fear creeps in. Does He know the unique voice that is me?

A friend was sharing with me once and was lamenting the fact that God thought everyone was special. Her exact words were, “How do I know if God thinks I’m special if He thinks everyone is special? In reality, no one is really special at all.” Spoken like someone whose sounds were still so young.

I think that maturity means seeing the bigger picture of the Kingdom, and longs for everyone to feel special. When everyone feels secure in the love and grace that God extends to them, His Kingdom is realized, and peace is established on earth as it is in heaven. I have heard snippets of peace before, but I still wonder what a cacophony of peace would sound like in my ear.

Funny, though, even though I cannot hear it, I keep asking Him to teach me its sounds from a deeper, inaudible place. And often, when I’m there, I become aware of a still Voice that assures me that I am heard after all. Nothing to become unhinged about.