The Birdhouse

God is everywhere and in everything, and He wants us to know it. He also wants us to recognize His presence when He's at work in our lives. God's desire is that we may know (and believe in) His heart for us. The smallest glimpse of His hand often brings the greatest realization of just how much He knows us and cares for us.

Such is the case with the birdhouse, an object so ubiquitous we often don't bother to give it any thought, if we even happen to notice it. But one birdhouse in particular stands out as a testament to my Heavenly Father's love for me, and I’ll never look at another one in quite the same way.

During a particularly difficult season, when the attacks of the enemy were high and my strength too low to engage in further battle, I attended our church's Night of Healing Prayer to seek the presence of the Lord in fuller measure. He did not fail to deliver.

In the midst of soaking in His presence, with my eyes closed and my empty cup aching to be refilled, the Lord beckoned me to open my eyes and to see. When I did, my eyes landed immediately on the canvas of the prophetic artist, and the beauty of the birdhouse she was painting.

They say your life flashes before your eyes in the seconds before death. I cannot speak to that, but I do know the moment I saw that birdhouse, the rush of a thousand images, thoughts, and feelings swept me away, and right into glorious praise of His name. No, it wasn't because the artwork was a masterpiece, but it was a masterpiece of the puzzle that is my life, and in that moment God soothed wounds I had long since forgotten I had.

You see, my earthly father was an alcoholic, and an abuser; our relationship was...strained. Love from my dad was conditional, with the conditions being a moving target you couldn’t quite get locked in on before you pulled the trigger. For so many years I longed to hear words of love and affirmation from my father that he just simply wasn't capable of saying. I wanted to feel loved, cared for, respected, and most of all wanted; he couldn't give that to me either, so it was difficult to know where you stood with my dad, and I got to the point that I no longer cared.

My earthly father was also a starter, but he wasn’t a finisher, a trait I wish had skipped a generation, but unfortunately instead landed firmly on me. Retired, and long after I had gone my own way as an adult, my dad decided he wanted to build birdhouses. 

Now not too long before this, however, my dad decided to sell water filtration units, with his initial investment being an inventory of 500 units, most of which were still in his garage when he died.

So, we were all naturally dubious when he came up with the bird-brained idea to build birdhouses! But he pressed on.

It took months of preparation, as obviously he needed a workshop built. And of course, it had to have power, and plumbing...but not just water, a full bathroom was installed...just in case he got too dirty in his laboring and needed to shower off before coming into the house. Shelves were installed along every wall, worktables and benches were bought and brought in, along with every conceivable woodworking tool and/or implement known to man. Routers, planers, saws...jig, hack, hand and power (you never knew which one you might need!)...................................................... tape measures, levels, screwdrivers, nails, screws, nuts and bolts. It

was impressive to say the least. Fully stocked, down to the lumber, paint and brushes... even birdhouse pattern books I sent as Christmas gifts. 

He was as ready as he could be...and not a single piece of wood was cut. Not a single birdhouse built. All that preparation, all that expense, all that work resulted in Nothing. 

An ironic metaphor of the relationship I had with my earthly father.

All these things came to me within milliseconds of seeing the prophetic artwork, and as I opened my mouth to Praise His Holy Name...saying out loud, but you are A Good Good Father...the worship team began singing the song...yes, you guessed it...Good Good Father. 

I was breathlessly overwhelmed, at once flooded with love from God, drowned in His goodness and His mercy. I don't know that I’ll ever have an experience like that again, and I certainly can't capture in words the magnificence of the moment, but I knew in that moment, or at least I remembered...how much God loves me! So much so, He sent His Son to die for me!

But God also sent His son to die for my earthly father, who after so many lost and destructive years, came to the Lord and was changed instantly...into a better man, a better husband and yes, a better father to me. We didn't have much time before my dad died to fully restore our relationship, but gone was the bitter hurt between us, and love was beginning to take root at last...and it was all from the Lord's gracious heart and hands.

So, whether simply constructed or elaborately adorned, birdhouses will now, and to the end of my days, be a symbol of a Father's Love...from my heavenly father above, and from the father who waits for me in heaven...and I wait too...for that glorious day when we will all be fully reunited and reconciled to each other...for all of eternity.