Pelicans

“Fat Bottomed Girls” was all I could think of as I watched a pair of pelicans struggle to lift off the surface of the water. Their ungainly tail ends wobbled just inches above the waves, unevenly weighted like a bathing suit full of sand. Heavily pounding their wings to gain some kind of undercurrent, they buoyed themselves a couple of inches through the air, and then disappointingly dropped into the surf again, with as much grace as… well, as a pelican. Many mornings, I have watched with mild amusement the characteristic crash landing of these clumsy and inelegant sea birds, the sort of landing that is meant to be a dive but in the end looks more like a summersault. A bellyflop is perhaps the more apt description. So, this day I found myself equally unimpressed by their takeoff.

But take off, they did. Slow, steady, rhythmical strokes of their long wings, with what appeared to be determination. I followed, with curiosity, their flight path along the shoreline. They flew low and with some speed, in tandem, fishing in the shallow waters along the rocky coast. They were cruising now. I thought to myself, “Isn’t that just the way life is?” Struggle and strive just to catch a little air, skim safely near the edge for a while, finish with an awkward and uninspiring splash in the shallow end. I took my eyes off the birds and gazed out to the horizon. A middle-aged blues settled in like the hot, summer haze across the bay. Was this all there was to our great journey?

Lost in the cynicism of my thoughts, I didn’t notice the steady upward trek the pelicans pursued. I didn’t notice, how once in flight, their wings took one or two powerful strokes, propelling them into the heights with confidence and yes, grace. I didn’t notice how regal they truly were.

Perhaps I was suffering from the same malaise as Moses when he wrote:

“All our days pass away under your wrath; we finish our years with a moan. The length of our days is seventy years – or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass and we fly away.” (Psalm 90:9-10)

Isn’t it somewhat heartening to think that Moses got tired, dejected, and even a little disillusioned? He, whose face glowed with the glory of God. He, whom God talked to as a friend. Somehow, it helps me to think that even Moses needed a little encouragement for the seventy – even eighty – year journey that can seem too long and too short all at the same time. What we most fear is that we thought we were called to the heights with the Most High God, and yet our flight patterns are uncomfortably low and predictable. What we most fear is that we will end our days with a belly flop in the shallow end.

Then in patience and mercy, God reminds us, as he reminded Moses, lift up your face, my friend (Psalm 3:3). Have you not remembered how I carried you on eagle’s wings and brought you to myself ? (Exodus 19:4) I am the One who soars on the wings of the wind (Psalm 18:10). So, lifting up my face, my eyes squint in the beaming, gleaming light, and there circling above me are the pelicans. Hundreds of feet above me, swirling higher and higher on the vectors, carelessly, effortlessly, soaring on the heights. High above, they glide with majesty and beauty. I stand in wonder, shielding my eyes in the light.

Yes, isn’t life this way? Bumpy, awkward starts. Low, humble beginnings. Heavy lifting. Patience. Steadiness. Steadfastness. Flight. First a little, then gaining strength. Then just trust, in the thrust of the wind underneath us. And they shall say “who are these that fly along the clouds?” (Isaiah 60:8)

God doesn’t promise us heights of personal greatness… but he does promise to take us to where he is. “Because of his great love for us, God who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead…And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms…” (Ephesians 2:4-6). When we are in him, we can experience the heavenly realms, heights we can not fathom – things no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived – even when our course keeps us in the humble lowlands. And of course, our ending is not a nose-dive at all. For He has promised to raise us up on the last day (John 6:40).

I think our hearts are set on eternity. (Ecclesiastes 3:11) Not just eternity, as in time, but as in perfection and glory and majesty and beauty. In other words… Heaven. Something inside us aches for the heights that God has planned for us. So days, when we can barely get our feet off the ground, are difficult for us. But we can remember the pelicans. Patience, Steadiness, Steadfastness, Trust… then Glory.