Finding Purpose in a Bird Nest
September 24, 2009

My home sits on the side of a steep ravine in Oregon. As I sit at my desk and look out the window to my left, I see two old growth fir trees and countless other firs, pines, and maples. I slide open my window and hear birds chirping. Several black-capped chickadees dart past and light on a tree. Above the towering firs, wide-winged turkey vultures soar on the thermals.

A person could watch birds his entire life and never realize what a marvel they are. Every part of a bird is designed to enhance flight. Their feathers are lightweight, strong, and aerodynamically shaped. They look solid, but they're not. The spine that runs down the middle of a feather is hollow. And the thousands of barbs that grow on both sides of the spine latch together with hooklets that interlock so tightly that smoke blown at a feather cannot penetrate it. When the wing flaps downward, the feathers come closer together, blocking the passage of air and creating lift. When the wings flap upward, the feathers open up to allow air to pass through.

The feathers on a bird's tail allow it to steer and brake. Their beaks and bones are lightweight. Indeed, the bones of the frigate bird weigh less than its feathers. Because flight requires power, birds have the largest muscle-tissue/body-mass ratio of all creatures. And their circulation system delivers oxygen to those muscles at a wondrous tempo. A sparrow's heart-rate is 460 beats a minute, and a hummingbird's tiny heart races at 615 beats a minute.

Yet this special design would be useless without air. It amazes me that something invisible provides the environment in which birds fly. The wings, bones, feathers, lungs, heart, and blood were all designed with air in mind. In essence, the bird finds its purpose in the air.

And we find our purpose in the invisible Christ. It's only in him that we can make sense of ourselves-our design-our thoughts and feelings and passions and hopes and dreams. Furthermore, and this is crucial, as we abide in Christ's presence and trust him to empower our thoughts and actions, he saturates all we think and say and do with eternity. When we live with a conscious awareness of Christ's presence, it's as though our lives become a letter that testifies to Christ's sufficiency ... a letter that will be read for all time.

Once you realize this you'll know that it's spiritually irrelevant whether you own the bus company, fix broken buses, or drive a route. God places no greater value on running a company than changing a tire. Even the most menial task possesses eternal value if it's done while abiding in Christ. And apart from him the greatest human accomplishments will make no more noise in eternity than a tree that falls in a forest with no ears.

Listen, God didn't place eternity in your heart so you could find meaning in perishable things like money and houses and cars and jobs and power. Doing so is like a bird searching for the meaning of its design in a nest. The purpose of a bird is to fly, and the purpose of a man is to abide in Christ. When we fulfill that purpose, we discover the two ways we can built eternity into our lives.

First, we cultivate eternal attitudes by asking for God's help as we meditate on his word. I try to make this a part of my daily routine. In fact, I don't think anything has changed the way I think and act more than this one practice. And God has used it to make me a better husband and father. Because I know it's hard for men to carve out time for such a practice I urge them to being with just five minutes a day. Try this for one week and see if God doesn't begin the process of changing how you view yourself.

Second, we must ask God to help us tell others about Christ. When a friend places their faith in Jesus Christ, they are changed for eternity. By partnering with God in such a transformation, our lives find true meaning ... meaning that lasts forever.