It was a cool Sunday morning as I walked toward the alley where the garage was. The river splashed over the rocks and down the valley on my left. Up ahead, a row of garages stretched away under a five-story building.
I thought about the message prepared for the main service. The text was from John 3, on Nicodemus, and I marveled again at the masterpiece written so long ago by that hard-working fisherman from Galilee.
With hardly a whisper, the swallow flew past me, a few feet from my ear. It swooped to about four inches above the graveled surface and shot straight toward the steep ramp at the other end of the garages. Just before the incline, it veered up and away with the grace and agility of a pro.
Though the size of a swallow’s brain is no bigger than a cherry, God has given him the skill of a flying acrobat. The little bird may be unable to read, write, or talk, but he can perform a phenomenal aerial show.
John had grown up a tough, weather-beaten boatsman, learning the ways of the sea from his father and joining the family fishing business. As a young lad, his life was full of nets, oars, sails, and fish. There hadn’t been much occasion or time for formal education. He didn’t expect to do anything but catch Tilapia for the rest of his life. Then the Teacher from Nazareth asked him to join his itinerant ministry, and he accepted the challenge.
He had no idea what was coming.
Many years later he would write a book. Yes! He, the uneducated fisherman would produce a manuscript that was a literary gem, almost without rival, standing tall among the eternal writings of God.
We should not be surprised.
His Lord was the same as the swallow’s.
I thought about the message prepared for the main service. The text was from John 3, on Nicodemus, and I marveled again at the masterpiece written so long ago by that hard-working fisherman from Galilee.
With hardly a whisper, the swallow flew past me, a few feet from my ear. It swooped to about four inches above the graveled surface and shot straight toward the steep ramp at the other end of the garages. Just before the incline, it veered up and away with the grace and agility of a pro.
Though the size of a swallow’s brain is no bigger than a cherry, God has given him the skill of a flying acrobat. The little bird may be unable to read, write, or talk, but he can perform a phenomenal aerial show.
John had grown up a tough, weather-beaten boatsman, learning the ways of the sea from his father and joining the family fishing business. As a young lad, his life was full of nets, oars, sails, and fish. There hadn’t been much occasion or time for formal education. He didn’t expect to do anything but catch Tilapia for the rest of his life. Then the Teacher from Nazareth asked him to join his itinerant ministry, and he accepted the challenge.
He had no idea what was coming.
Many years later he would write a book. Yes! He, the uneducated fisherman would produce a manuscript that was a literary gem, almost without rival, standing tall among the eternal writings of God.
We should not be surprised.
His Lord was the same as the swallow’s.
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