Day 1:
Under His wings I am safely abiding
“He will cover you with his feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart” (Psalm 91:4).
I came to hate the ear-splitting doom-herald—the piercing screech, the war cry of the predator swooping down on my precious chicks. My precious chicks that had so quickly taken up room in our yard and in my heart. As my dad probably knew they would, when he gave me the gift.
Gifts from my dad were often partly prank, partly whimsy—totally unpredictable, totally delightful. So no one blinked when, for my ninth birthday he gave me…a hen! Yes, that’s right—nine, ten, a big fat hen!
I don’t know whose idea it was to call her “Birthday,” but she didn’t seem to mind the lack of imagination, and happily clucked and ate her way around the yard. It didn’t take long for Birthday to “be fruitful and multiply,” and in no time, my gift had expanded into a brood of fluffy chicks jostling each other and competing for worms and scraps.
I quickly learned that chicks get into everything. Unfortunately, everything even included a half-open can of varnish, and one day I was suddenly faced with my first “environmental disaster.” In the end, I managed to wash most of their feathers, my tears liberally mixed into the solution my aunt had prepared.
I thought that was the worst that could happen in my “chick-rearing.” I didn’t yet know about the hawks. But eventually I learned. And pretty soon I was on the lookout for wings that stretched into forever, and talons that curved in ruthless readiness. And the screech that signaled danger for my brood.
I don’t know how many chicks I lost to the hawks over time. But I do know that it was far fewer than it could have been because of the heroics of Birthday. When the hawks (or other dangers) lurked, she would spring into action. Clucking furiously to warn the little ones, Birthday would “plump herself up” by fluffing all her feathers. She would open her wings, spread her tail, and try to gather the chicks into her shelter.
As I look back, this for me, is such a beautiful object lesson on the covering and the shelter of God. So many places in Scripture we read of God’s wings of refuge, of shelter, of safety. The Lord Jesus, in His heart-rending cry over the fate of Jerusalem, uses the same imagery to describe His desire to shelter and protect His people:
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing” (Matthew 23:37).
Unwillingness is the only thing that keeps us from the shelter of God. Unlike Birthday, who fought valiantly for her chicks but was limited in her defense against the hawks, Jesus has ultimate power and authority. By His death and resurrection, “the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed” (Revelation 5:5).
In this fallen world, we daily face all kinds of dangers from natural forces, physical forces, and spiritual forces. In our souls we hear the screech of danger. We recognize the wingspan. We constantly dodge the ruthless talons of the circling hawks. And all the while, Jesus longs to shelter us under His wings.
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