Owls, Night Seasons, and the God Who Sees in the Dark

Did you know you can learn a lot of theology from a bird with big eyes and a funny hoot? I didn't either—at least, not until my Bible study on the animals of the Bible landed on the owl. Suddenly, this "spooky" night bird became one of my favorite little professors.

In Isaiah 43, God says something that stopped me in my tracks: "The beast of the field shall honour me, the dragons and the owls..." (Isaiah 43:20a). The owls honour Him... in the dark. They don't sing like the sweet little songbirds at sunrise. They don't trill in the bright blue sky. They hoot in the lonely, desolate places when everyone else has gone quiet and gone home.

Most birds are at their best in the sunshine, but the owl is built for the night. Its eyes are designed to capture every bit of light available. Its ears are tuned to pick up what others miss. And that low, haunting hoot? That's a low-frequency sound that travels farther, cuts through obstacles, and carries across the dark woods long after the cheerful warblers have gone to bed.

I don't know about you, but some days I feel a lot less like a cheerful morning lark and a lot more like an owl just trying to see straight in the dark. There are seasons when my "bright" song feels like it has packed its bags and moved away. Chronic illness flares. Anxiety whispers its lies. Depression drapes everything in gray. The "happy, clappy" song just won't come, no matter how hard I reach for it.

But that's where the owl reminds me of something precious: when God takes away (for a season) our bright, bubbly song, He often gives us a low-frequency one, a deeper song of endurance, grit, and stubborn, quiet faith. It's not loud. It's not glamorous. It doesn't always sound like a joyful hymn. But it carries. It reaches places a bright, sunny tune never could.

Think about the people who have encouraged you the most. Very often, it's not the ones who've never had a bad day in their lives. It's the ones who've walked through the midnight hour and can still say, with tears in their eyes, "God is faithful." That's an owl song. It comes from someone who has learned to see in the dark and hear God above the noise.

So how do we honour God in our "night seasons," like the owl does?

First, we use our eyes the way the owl does, to capture every bit of light we can. Spiritually, that means fixing our gaze on Jesus, no matter how black the sky looks. "Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith..." (Hebrews 12:2a). When pain, fear, or confusion close in, we deliberately look away from the shadows and toward the Light of the world. One verse at a time. One whispered prayer at a time. One act of simple obedience at a time.

Second, we tune our ears. The owl can hear what other creatures miss, even in thick darkness. In our spiritual night, we need to intentionally listen for God's voice through His Word and His Spirit and also listen for the cries of a hurting world around us. "Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust..." (Psalm 143:8a). Morning may not have come yet on the clock, but by faith we can listen as if dawn is on the way.

And here's the beautiful part: that low, slow, hoarse "song" you and I sing in the night honors God just as surely as the choir anthem on a bright Sunday morning. Maybe more. Anyone can sing when life is all sunshine and roses. But when God's children choose to trust Him in the desolate places, that sound carries. It encourages fellow travelers who are stumbling through their own darkness. It testifies to a watching world that God is worthy of worship even when life hurts.

You may feel tonight like your bright song is gone. That's okay. God may be teaching you your owl song—the deep, low-frequency melody of faith that reverberates through the night and reaches further than you will ever know this side of heaven.

So, friend, take heart. Open your eyes wide for every glimmer of His light. Pray for ears tuned to His voice and to the needs around you. And then, right there in the dark, honor Him with whatever song you have left. It may not sound pretty to you, but to your Father, it is precious music in the night.