Tip of My Iceberg

We have a plethora of sandhill cranes in central Florida, and their hatching season is now. They strut all over our headquarters with an arrogance tantamount to their size.

They’re annoying. They don’t seem to fear anything human. If you get too close to their chicks, they stretch out their wings, which extend six to seven feet wide, and flap them as they squawk at you. If you appear threatening, they’ll chase you, screeching. Intimidating, to say the least.

They mate for life, choosing their partners by their dance moves, so you rarely see one of these birds alone. The young cranes remain with their parents for nine to ten months, through the winter and migration season. They leave their parents after two years and seek their own mates.

picture courtesy of Richard Sagredo on Unsplash

As I walked by one of the doors to our building, an adult crane was staring at me through the glass. I walked up to him, grateful for the protection of the thick glass, and tried to get his attention. He didn’t seem to pay me any mind; he kept pecking at the door. I realized it wasn’t me he was trying to get at–he saw his reflection in the glass and thought it was another crane.

A little self-absorbed, don’t you think?

Many in the animal kingdom exhibit characteristics of human behavior. A sandhill crane seeing his reflection senses the possibility of danger, and he strikes out at what appears to be an enemy. How often do we strike out when we feel threatened, when our loved ones are at risk? Or when we think we’re not being seen for who we are?

Figuring out our identity can be challenging, especially when the voice of social media blares in our minds. We try to be our best selves so people see what we want them to see, hiding who we really are behind a facade we carefully manage. We see what we want to see.

Moses was a Hebrew, raised by the Pharaoh of Egypt’s daughter who found him in a basket floating along the Nile. Pharaoh was angered by the strength of the Hebrews and ordered all the midwives to kill Hebrew baby boys. Moses’ mom protected him by placing him in the basket. Moses believed he had the strength of Egypt’s Pharaoh behind him, and yet he also knew he was marked to help save the Jewish people. But he took matters into his own hands, killing an Egyptian who was beating up a Hebrew man. He was discovered and had to run for his life. He fled Egypt for Midian, staying there for forty years, working as a shepherd.

When he saw a bush burning without being consumed, he approached, and God spoke to him from the bush, scaring him.

“Then the LORD told him, “I have certainly seen the oppression of My people in Egypt. I have heard their cries of distress because of their harsh slave drivers. Yes, I am aware of their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them from the power of the Egyptians and into their own fertile and spacious land….Now go, for I am sending you to Pharaoh. You must lead My people Israel out of Egypt.” Exodus 3:7-9.

Moses didn’t want anything to do with this. He tried five times to deny God, but he finally relented. He led his people out of Egypt through forty years of wilderness wanderings.

He grew to be who God knew he was. The more he trusted God, the bolder he became.

Like my feathered friend who was confused by what he saw, I know how often I don’t see myself the way God sees me.

His clarity of sight and purpose are so much better than mine.