While I was walking through my garden analyzing all that needed tending, I noticed a woodpecker stuck in the net that covers the top of our chicken run. I don’t know how long he had been there and I wondered if it might be too late for survival, but I had to at least try to rescue the little fellow. I grabbed the gloves that James was wearing and assigned Hannah to fetch me a long-sleeve shirt and some scissors. It took me a minute to figure out what to do next. Do I grab him? How hard does a woodpecker peck? Will he hurt me? After making a few cuts around him, I decided to take my chances and see if I could hold him. He gave me quite a fight, fluttering and flapping, pecking and chirping. Slowly, I was able to get a solid grip over his wings and delicate body. He continued pecking, but it didn’t hurt. In fact, I just let him go along with his instincts, keeping a tight grip with his beak on my finger while I kept a strong grip on him. He must have felt like I was trying to torment him. Of course the little bird didn’t realize that this giant in the sky, who was firmly grasping him while gingerly cutting away the net, was really trying to set him free. If he would just relax and trust me, it would go much faster with less risk of me hurting him, I thought. After a long struggle and thorough analysis to make sure all the strings were detached, I walked over to the woods and carefully set him down. At first he hobbled along and I thought perhaps he had been paralyzed. Then he hid behind a tree before taking flight. We watched as his brilliant red head and perfect, black & white body soared off to another tree trunk where he landed and began doing what woodpeckers are made to do: peck. It was beautiful and majestic and James, Hannah, and Essie, and I all cheered at his survival and freedom.

What a gift this bird was to me. Our family has been trying to move for the last two years so we can be closer to our church, to community, and to a town with a potential school. There were these strange miraculous moments and possibilities that seemed like open doors ordained by God, but for whatever reason, slammed back in our face. On top of that, it seems that we cannot get ahead on house projects that would make our cabin sell-ready. It’s confusing. Why at one moment would God open up a potential door only to close it? Why can’t we seem to get ahead of the elements on our house? Why do I feel a refreshing, peaceful feeling of contentment at one moment and then such an ardent desire to move the next. Sometimes these waves are so on top of each other that in the same conversation I will say I want one thing and then in the next sentence say I want the other. I’ve felt stuck in a net of discontentment and restlessness for so long that I wonder if joy could ever survive in me. What is the Giant in the sky doing? Sometimes it just feels so cruel. Could it be that His tight grip and refining scissors are trying to set me free – perhaps even reviving my joy?

Lately I’ve been feeling this strong urge to live a life of simplicity and minimalism, like a devoted nun or monk, so that I have more space to love and to pray. But I feel trapped and stuck in a world that demands so much: texting, car repairs, house maintenance, taking care of laundry, homeschooling, homesteading, clutter, clutter, and more clutter. But are these the strings that are binding me? I mean we all have things we’re responsible for. Of course we can choose to be tidy and say “no” to things, and we could even succeed as a minimalist. Perhaps God could grant me the perfect house, land, location, and career. But is that lack of such things the cause for feeling trapped. Surely not, because then it would be the world and materialism deciding my joy. And they don’t get to decide.

God says to us in Psalm 23:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
[If I don’t have it, it must be that I don’t need – or that God has something better later. ]
 He makes me lie down in green pastures.
[God-ordained peace]
He leads me beside still waters.
[He will take me where I need to go.]
He restores my soul.
[I can start over today. My failures and weaknesses are not what define me. I can be firmly content. I can have lasting joy.]
He leads me in paths of righteousness
[Everything He allows in my life leads to His holy will]
    for his name’s sake.
[because He will not let His name be mocked.]

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
[when it feels like the virtues I want to possess seem dead in me]
    I will fear no evil,
[my vices will not prevail]
for you are with me;
[my hope isn’t in myself and my success, but in God]
    your rod and your staff,
[His chastisement might be painful, but it’s for my deliverance]
    they comfort me.
[therefore, I have hope.]

 You prepare a table before me
[You provide more than I can imagine]
    in the presence of my enemies;
[to show your favor and blessing upon my life.]
you anoint my head with oil;
[You call me and set your purpose within me]
    my cup overflows.
[You give me the power and resources to fulfill my calling.]
 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
[True goodness – love and mercy never leave my side]
    all the days of my life,
[even now, when I can’t see it or feel it.]
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
[My true home and desire is God. And I already have Him}
    forever (ESV).
[now and forever].

For the last few days, the image of the woodpecker has stuck with me. I’m doing a challenge on the Hallow app. right now called Detachment encouraging us to reflect on the things in our lives that we are attached to, things that keep us from the fullness of joy that Jesus came to give us.

When I was helping untangle the tiny red-headed bird from the net that lay over our chicken run, I first began cutting the stings around him. It seemed to work to relieve some pressure and for a moment, the bird might have thought it was free. But it wasn’t actually free. It still had a mess of string wrapped around his neck, body and claws. That’s when I decided the only way to really deliver this bird was to hold him tightly and slowly cut and pull away tiny pieces of twine, one at a time. He was more confined in my hands – even more than the knots he had gotten himself into by his own self-efforts, but it was the only way he could truly be delivered. If I had left any strings, he might have hobbled by – more free than when he was stuck in the nets, but not as free as he could be. I wanted him to be completely free, but this total freedom required more confinement, more cutting, and more patience.

God does not want to give us a life of partial joy or partial freedom. No, rather Jesus came that we might have abundant life, the fullness of joy, and the fullness of freedom – being completely detached so we can completely receive love, give love, and live life the way it was designed to be live. We were made to fly, not just hobble along. Sometimes, in order to find this freedom, God might have to physically pick us up and firmly grip us in His hands, revealing places in our lives that are not totally surrendered to His goodness and providence. There might be circumstances in our life that seem to be getting worse. Perhaps though it is God pulling us out of the nets, and holding us even more tightly while He does some more surgery on our hearts or the hearts of the people or circumstances around us. The more we relax into the unfavorable circumstances and trials, the easier and quicker it will be for God to cut away at the things that bind us. If we can begin to look at trials as God holding and healing us, as Him being exceptionally close to us, then maybe that -in an of itself- is the first step toward freedom from the lie that God is aloof or cruel. In other words, the first string that needs to be cut off is the belief that God doesn’t care about my life or that He is just trying to torment me. The truth is, we are held and God deeply cares about every detail of our lives and is orchestrating something beautiful beyond what we can see.

I am the woodpecker. You are the woodpecker, and God is the deliverer. And He’s so patient with us, lovely putting up with our flapping, chirping and fighting. He even allows us to bite Him – and even crucify Him – while he gingerly cuts away at our nets. And He doesn’t give up, because if His eye is on the woodpecker, how much more are His eyes on us?