Owl

Greyness is just beginning to creep along the eastern horizon and steal between the black winter hills as the Great Horned owl rouses himself from his perch on the low oak tree one last time for the night. Perhaps with daylight dawning, some of the animal kingdom will begin to stir and provide him with a meal.

The owl's eyes, brilliantly suited to hunting in the dark, glow yellow. His majestic wings lift him effortlessly into the clear icy night sky. He opens his powerful beak, built to tear limbs from the bodies of prey, to call one last time that distinctive “whoo-hoo-oo” before catching an up-draft and soaring into the breeze.

From his height above the snow-covered hill, the owl catches sight of a slight movement down below – a hare cautiously making its way along the relative safety of a row of trees between two fields. Suddenly, the owl is plummeting silently to the earth, it's sharp, weapon-like talons extended, ready to snag and lift the animal into the air, the rabbit still unaware of the imminent danger.

It is really just a little thing, hardly more than a centimeter across, a tiny bit of metal wire, twisted around itself, the barbed wire that catches the owl in mid-flight. It's almost inconceivable that such an insignificant thing would stop such a powerful creature, a creature with such strength and prowess.

Yet, the owl hangs, wings spread wide. It struggles valiantly to get away, despite the searing pain. But it's majestic wings are no match for the barbed wire; its powerful beak is impotent against a foe it cannot reach; its weapon-like talons cannot snag that which has snagged the owl.

In the cold, with no way to release itself, the owl succumbs to its own inevitable death as the sun breaks over the horizon and fills the sky with vibrant reds and pinks.

Short hours later, the man emerges from the woods into the clearing of the fields, fills his lungs with the frozen air. He notices the strange form, unmoving, inches above the snow, and investigates.

Had he arrived earlier, would the owl have let the man release him and save him from certain death? Owls have been known to attack humans, and any animal desperate for life can be dangerous to its rescuer. The man untangles the owl's feathers from the barbed-wire fence and carries the frozen body home. A great creature felled by so small a thing. A tragedy.

And us? When we get snagged on the barbed-wire of sin, are we not as powerless to rescue ourselves? Are we willing to acknowledge our insufficiency to save ourselves, to submit to the only One who can release us from our bondage? Are we prepared to allow ourselves to be disentangled from death - death of relationships, of a family bond, death of a creative spirit, of a future, death of love, of hope – to accept life from the One who comes along just in time?

             For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in

                                      Jesus Christ our Lord.

                                                               Romans 6:23

            We have escaped like a bird,

                   out of the fowler's snare;

            the snare has been broken,

                   and we have escaped.

            Our help is in the name of the Lord,

                   the Maker of heaven and earth.

                                                               Psalm 124:7-8

One of my favorite songs.  I love this version by Owl City:

For those for whom it matters, my goal this year is to post to my blog on Thursdays.