When Life Feels Dark, and You Don’t Fit In
When we seek spiritual encouragement in God's creation, we often turn to majestic animals like the gentle dove, the sure-footed deer, or the soaring eagle. We rarely consider the bat. Honestly, they give me the creeps. But sometimes, God hides His most profound comforts in the most unexpected, unglamorous places.
If you have ever felt exhausted from trying to force things to work, discouraged because you cannot see the results of your hard work, or out of place in a world that doesn't quite understand you, the bat has some beautiful lessons to teach us.
The Art of "Letting Go"
When a bird takes off, it stands on the ground, pushes off with its strong legs, and flaps furiously against gravity. A bat cannot do this. Its legs are too weak to launch it from the ground. If a bat tries to take off from the dirt, it will only exhaust itself and go nowhere.
To fly, a bat must climb to a high place, hang completely upside down, and simply let go. It uses the momentum of the drop to catch the air.
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.
Carrying Light, Not Load
Yesterday, during my Bible study on animals in Scripture, I was certain the donkey would teach me a lesson about stubbornness. After all, isn't that what donkeys are famous for? But God had something entirely different and far more beautiful in store for me.
As I studied the account of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, it hit me like a thunderbolt. That little donkey wasn't chosen because of what he could carry but because of who he would carry. He wasn't meant to haul heavy burdens. He was meant to carry the Light of the World. And here's where it gets personal: we're just like that donkey.
How many times have I trudged through my days feeling like a pack mule, weighed down by worry, responsibility, and those endless "what-ifs" that plague my thoughts? I've rounded my shoulders under the weight of "should-haves" and stumbled over obligations that were never mine to bear. I've been so busy carrying the load that I forgot I was meant to carry the Light.