This little blue bird would like to share an encouraging word. Because it’s too easy to look at the world around us and write paragraphs about the discouraging news. And I don’t want you to be discouraged like all those human beings who reject the one, true, living, loving God who made them.
Because they reject hope. And love. And security. They reject the very things they want.
And even the best places on Earth can only provide a fragment of those things. Even you’re inspired, like Dr. Brewster M. Higley VI, to write wonderful words about your home, it’s temporary.
That includes me and my little blue bird poem.
Yep, even I…
What’s that? You don’t know who Dr. Brewster M. Higley VI was? Are you kidding me? Well, he was just the guy who wrote the lyrics to the famous old song, “Home On The Range.” According to what I read about him, he wrote a poem about his home on the Kansas prairie. And when you read all the verses, that aren’t included in the famous song, you can tell he loved it there.
But the good doctor has long since departed. Over a hundred years ago in fact. So, he’s already discovered what’s exponentially more important than a home where the deer and the antelope play. And if you’ve tuned into my words and music for any length of time, you already know what it is, too.
YOU. And me.
Because you and I were made in the image and likeness of God. No other creatures, or parts of creation, share that distinction.
King David realized how important that is. One of his Psalms said it like this…
“For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well.”
I’m no king. But I’ve been writing my own Psalms…er…songs and poems for a long time. The vast majority of them were created to encourage. And many of them share the reason why you and I should be encouraged in this world full of discouraging words.
Like this one. Can you guess the bird’s identity?
Work of Art
Nobody looked through the crystal blue sky
And ever saw a single frozen word.
But there were songs and a story up high
And they were sung by a little blue bird.
The little bird with its feathers of blue
Sang all the notes that ever could be sung.
And every note was fastened to the sky,
And from each one bright, silver words were hung.
Now lie real still on the darkest of nights
And listen close with the ears in your heart.
You’re bound to hear, when your story is sung,
The little blue bird…who sings every word…
And tells the whole world you’re a work of art.
Stay tuned,
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