But those who wait for the Lord’s help find renewed strength;
they rise up as if they had eagles’ wings,
they run without growing weary,
they walk without getting tired. (Isaiah 40:31)
In the low mountain brush of California, I stumbled into a covey of quail. They had a comical chortle and funny bobbing crowns. They supposed their predator, me, would be upon them if they didn’t skedaddle. But rather than flying, they ran out of my path. I laughed as their tiny legs scissored in panic mode. Most scampered the whole way, and only when it was impossible to avoid my boots, did a few take to the air. They resumed their scuttle at the earliest opportunity.
I’m a spiritual quail. Oh I can fly, I’ve done it before. Soaring on the wings of faith is a glorious thing. I reach fantastic heights, escape eternal danger, and revel as the wind of the Spirit carries me. But my first tendency is to pedal the legs of self-sufficiency. Only when there is no other way out do I seem to remember my faith wings.
Why do I run on the ground, wearing out long before the end of each day? How can I forget that my strength is in trusting the Lord? I renounce these cursed little feet and their vain self effort. I must learn to press my weight onto God’s invisible provision, and feel the rush of strength under me.
When I do stretch out my faith and trust the Lord to carry me, it’s only for short distances. Then, I set my feet to running again. It’s not right. I should fly everywhere, not only when there are life threatening predators. Faith is for every part of life. Why not soar with Jesus when I brush my teeth, when I’m on blasé errands, and when I’m lying in bed? Why would I ever choose feet over wings?
Prayer: Jesus, make me into an eagle, not a quail.