“And am like a sparrow
alone on the housetop”
Psalm 102:7
So sung the psalmist, and so sing many of us as the closest one to us is snatched away, never to be seen again except in the portrait gallery of our heart.
Humans are a composite creation and no-one can deny that our emotions are an integral part of us. But when our spouse is no longer in our house, when there is no phone call or no knock at the door, we can feel very much like the psalmist’s sparrow, “alone on the housetop”.
But we may be encouraged, for in Psalm 84 the sons of Korah, in telling “how lovely is your tabernacle” continue by saying, “Even the sparrow has found a home and the swallow a nest for herself.” So we can be cheered when we think that the humble little birds are cared for by their Creator. So why should not God care for us who are made in His image?
Still, God does expect us to do for us, for each other, what we can do and not leave everything to Him as though we were not able to help bear the burdens for someone struggling. And it was Paul who stated in Galatians 6:2, “Bear one another’s burdens and so fulfil the law of Christ.”
The world can be a lonely place when by ourselves for any of a number of reasons. We can sympathise with the sparrow, alone on the housetop, for even these humble birds are not meant to be alone. Sociologists tell us that loneliness is one of the curses of our age and while most of us destined to live alone have one or more close friends, there was only one who could share with us life’s intimate moments.
Even Jesus, commissioned to bring salvation to humanity, who bore more pain and torment than we will ever have to bear, drew lessons from the sparrow. They were humble little birds, He said, but God saw when one of them fell to the ground. So that, in telling us we are of more value than many sparrows, we can extrapolate from that, and realise that God is aware of all aspects of our lives and when on the day that marks our final fall, He notes our passing, preserves our identity and, if His true child, will raise us up at the last day.
In the new world, about which we are told of some of the larger animals that will be there, I am sure we will see the humble sparrow flitting about, and alighting on our shoulder, twittering that they are not alone any more on the housetop, or anywhere else for that matter. Nor shall we be ever again.
William Ackland is retired in Cooranbong (NSW) and has written eight books.
