Look at the Birds

Transcript

Hello, my friend… so glad you're with me today. This is By God's Call — day 23, Look at the Birds.

I want you to hear this word. Let it settle slowly.

"Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" Matthew 6, verse 26.

Jesus did not come to win an argument against your worry. He didn't arrive with data or a logical framework. He came with an image — and a command so simple we almost miss how radical it is: look at the birds. Because anxiety always wants your eyes pointed inward — toward what's missing, toward what might go wrong, toward the number in the account. And Jesus says: no. Lift your eyes. Look at what the Father is already doing.

Those birds carry no reserves. They run no projections. They have no emergency fund. And yet every morning they rise. Every morning they sing. Every morning they eat — because the heavenly Father feeds them. The provision doesn't come from the stockpile; it comes from the character of God. He has been setting tables in the wilderness for a long time. Every bird that lands and feeds is a small, quiet sermon on who He is.

And then Jesus turns to you — turns to me — and asks a question that doesn't need an answer, because the whole of creation has already answered it: Are you not of more value than they? The argument moves from lesser to greater. If the Father tends to what flies and vanishes, to creatures with no name and no history — how much more will He tend to His own sons and daughters. He will not forget your name. He will not forget your need. That simply is not possible.

Now — and this matters — trusting God is not the same as going still. The birds still rise at dawn. They still search. Faith does not cancel your work; it cancels the anxiety you carry into your work. There is a world of difference between laboring with peace and laboring with fear. God is calling you to the first.

And today, He is calling you to something specific and real. Before breakfast — before the phone, before the messages, before the noise of the day begins — stand at a window. Or step outside, breathe the morning air, and wait until you spot one bird. Just one. And when you do, thank God out loud — with actual words, not just a thought — for one specific provision He has already made in your life. Not something you're hoping for. Something He has already done. Let that gratitude come out of your mouth. There is power in that. There is memory in that. And the memory of God's faithfulness is the surest defense against tomorrow's anxiety.

The birds sing before the sun appears. They don't wait for certainty before they trust. Neither do you have to.

Stay close to God. Pray — then act. I'll see you tomorrow, my friend.