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An article in National Geographic several years ago provided
penetrating picture of God’s wings. After a forest fire in
Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up
a mountain to assess the inferno’s damage. One ranger
found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely
on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the
eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he
struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead
mother’s wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending
disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and
had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that
the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but
had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had
arrived and the heat had singed her small body, the mother
had remained steadfast.
Because she had been willing to die, so those under the cover
of her wings would live.
“He shall cover thee with His feathers,
and under His wings shalt thou trust”
(Psalms 91:4)
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