A Prayer For The Birdsong
I’ve forgotten the birdsong. That hallowed quiet that ushered in each new morning in the Seven Sisters pasture. I used to run there while we lived in Oxford, walk the path, soak in the silence, greet a few fellow travelers, cows that is. And now I no longer stop, still, and sit in silence. This culture barrels me forward on the treadmill of production. Do, be, perform. Lord, have mercy.
When did I stop being, becoming instead a machine?
When did I exchange solitude for sophistication?
With wonder as my guide, the world screamed of the Creator. Beauty beheld awakened all things new. But we have “exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being” (Romans 1:23), making us the fool, our foolish hearts darkened.
Awake, my soul, awake. Listen. Be still and know that He is God.
Rejoice, my soul, rejoice. Behold. He makes all things new.
Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.
May I hear the birdsong. Pause in wonder long enough to wait for the still, small voice. Capture me, You Who dazzle like the sun. Enrapture my longings, so that my heart beats only for You.
Then I will teach sinners Your ways. I will go to the house of the Lord with a pure heart and clean hands. I will rejoice in the assembly and shout your songs of deliverance.
Your ways, O Lord, are just. Your paths, O Lord, are sure.
And I can hear the birds singing outside my window as the sun rises in the east...it’s a song of wonder, a lilt of rejoicing. I still my body from racing out to greet the new morning, and instead listen. Silence...a still, small voice.
Be still, and know...Him.