Reflections by the Pond
April 30, 2003

The Good Stuff

I stepped out the workshop door the other day and was immediately, and quite furiously reprimanded for so callously permitting the bird feeder to remain empty.

Our main bird feeder hangs from a rope in a high branch just outside the sun room windows. (Please pardon my unseemly pride over the rather ingenious rope and pulley system I devised for raising and lowering the heavy feeder.) What with the high cost of the fifty pound bags of seed, we decided to leave the birds on their own this spring.

The myriad birds have apparently accepted this decision with dignified grace, but the two squirrels who have helped themselves to the bounty over the cold winter months are clearly displeased. During Sunday waffles we watched as the female clambered over and around and under the feeder, struggling to retrieve the few remaining seeds beyond her reach. She had already torn away one supporting piece of wood, and was now searching for an alternate way in to the food--at one point even hanging upside down beneath the feeder to gnaw at its wooden base.

Stepping out the door on my way to the mailbox, the air was suddenly turned blue by the female squirrel's loud protestations. In her sharp, rhythmic bark she told me in no uncertain terms that she wanted--no, insisted--that I fill this feeder forthwith. She scolded me up one side and down the other. I pointed out to her the obvious, that the yard was filled with delicious acorns. Had she forgot where she had hidden them last autumn? But she has having none of it, insisting on having her preferred food. So I left the squirrel to her scoldings, hoping Angel could eventually persuade her to cease and desist.

The episode reminded me of an old television commercial--a cartoon advertisement for a hot breakfast cereal in which a small boy insisted quite loudly "I WANT MY MAPO!"

And I come back to that familiar nagging question: Why is it that I do not have that same insistent attitude over my Spiritual food? When my rather substantial belly growls with hunger, I suppose my motivation for insisting on food has something to do with an inbred survival instinct--without food I will die. Herein lies one of the awkward truths of the Christian faith: Grace has removed our survival instinct. The blood of Christ has removed any need for anxiety over our next meal. Those in Christ will survive--whether they feed themselves or not. My decision to read a chapter of Scripture per day, a few verses, or nothing at all, will have no bearing on where I spend eternity.

The lesson I must drum into my head is that my eternity has already begun. It may be assured, but if I am living in it already, then my choice of nourishment right now will affect the quality of the eternity I am already living.

I should be insisting on the good stuff.

May Thy compassion come to me that I may live, for Thy law is my delight. Psalm 119:77 nasb

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Reflections file: pond0369.txt