As a hen gathers her chicks
Jesus weeping over Jerusalem
After a long day of confronting the religious leaders, Jesus looks out over the city that will soon kill him, and his anger gives way to grief. He cries out, not as a judge but as a heartbroken parent: Jerusalem, Jerusalem — the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to her.
And then he reaches for one of the most tender, almost maternal images he ever used of himself. How often I wanted to gather your children together, he says, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. A mother hen, at the threat of a hawk or a fire, spreads her wings and calls her chicks into the warmth and shelter of her own body, ready to die covering them.
That is the longing of God toward us — to gather, to shelter, to cover. And then the heartbreaking last phrase: and you would not. The wings were spread. The shelter was offered. The grief in Jesus' voice is the grief of a love that longs to gather, and will not force its way past a closed heart.
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that kills the prophets, and stones those who are sent to her! How often would I have gathered your children together, even as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you would not!”
— Jesus, over Jerusalem — Matthew 23:37 (WEB)
Stop resisting the wings already spread over you, and let the God who longs to gather you draw you into shelter.
“He will cover you with his feathers. Under his wings you will take refuge. His truth is a shield and a rampart.”
We imagine God is reluctant and must be persuaded near, when in fact the longing is his and the resistance is ours. The interior work is to reverse the picture — to see the wings already spread, the shelter already offered — and to locate the obstacle to intimacy not in God's distance but in your own would not, then to stop refusing.
Find the place where you have been holding God off — a corner of your life, a grief, a sin you keep him out of. This week, name your would not honestly, and let yourself be gathered there: cover me; I stop resisting.
It flatters our wound to believe God is the reluctant one, distant and hard to reach, while our own would not stays hidden behind the story of his distance. But the wings are already spread and the longing was always his; the only thing left to do is stop resisting and let yourself be gathered.
We often imagine the problem in our relationship with God is that he is reluctant toward us — distant, hard to reach, needing to be persuaded to draw near. Jesus weeping over Jerusalem turns the picture around. The longing is on his side. The wings are already spread. He aches to gather us into shelter, and the one thing that holds it up is our own would not.
This is a searching and a comforting truth at once. God is not the obstacle to intimacy; we usually are. But the answer is wonderfully simple — not to climb up to a distant deity, but to stop resisting the wings already spread over us, and let ourselves be gathered. Where in your life have you answered God's longing to gather you with a quiet would not?
- Where have I answered God's longing to gather me with a quiet would not?
- Do I believe the reluctance is on his side or mine?
- What part of my life am I keeping out from under his wings?
Lord, your wings are spread and your longing is real; the resistance has been mine. I lay down my would not and let you gather me. Amen.