THE NEST ABOVE THE LIGHT

A Sacred Whisper of His Love and Providence

“Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow builds her nest and raises her young at a place near your altar, O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, my King and my God!”

—Psalm 84:3 (NLT)

“How lovely are your dwelling places… even the birds know to draw near.”

—Psalm 84:3 (paraphrased from TPT)

A dear friend sent me these tender images—tiny baby robins in a carefully woven nest, perched right above a porch light. And something holy washed over me as I stared into the frail beauty of it all. I couldn’t stop looking. There was something sacred in that quiet scene. I felt the Father whisper, “Look again, beloved. There’s more here than just a nest.”

Indeed, there was.

That little nest, no bigger than two hands cupped in prayer, was a holy picture—a parable written by the hands of a faithful God. A picture of tenderness. Covering. Daily provision. Warmth and light. And oh, how it moved me.

Each of those fragile, helpless chicks—eyes still shut, skin barely feathered—was tucked safely under the covering of something they did not build and could not earn. All they could do was receive. They do not toil or spin, yet every single day, Mama Robin returns. She knows precisely where her babies are. She never forgets. She comes to feed them, warm them, and sing over them with her presence.

Does this not mirror the way our Father cares for us?

There are seasons, dear one when we feel like those baby birds—so small, vulnerable, unable to see where we are or what comes next. And yet, we are not forsaken. We are held in a nest that grace built. And our Father—our radiant, beautiful Jesus—comes faithfully. He knows where to find us. He brings us what we need, even when we don’t know how to ask. He comes bearing daily bread and gentle covering, again and again, never growing weary of our need.

And I noticed something else—the nest was built right atop the porch light. Not beneath the roofline. Not hidden in a tree. No, upon the light. Isn’t that just like the Lord?

He positions us where His warmth and glory can touch us. He tucks us right into the light of His presence, close to the glow, hidden in plain sight. The porch light became a resting place. A sanctuary. It radiated just enough heat to keep the nest warm during cold nights. Just enough brightness to keep the danger at bay. And isn’t that exactly what the manifest presence of the Lord does for us? It warms what would otherwise wither. It guards what would otherwise die. His presence is not harsh—it is healing. Not distant—it is near.

Beloved, maybe today you feel unseen. Forgotten. Cold from the winds of life. But let these little birds remind you of something eternal:

You are not forgotten.

You are not uncovered.

You are not alone in the dark.

You are nestled in the light.

And the same Jesus who watches the sparrows watches over you. He has built your resting place. He visits you daily. He feeds you from His own hand. And He will remain near until you are strong enough to fly.

One day soon, those baby robins will stretch their wings and rise into the sky—but not before they are ready. Not before they have received enough. And so it is with us. We don’t grow by striving; we grow by abiding—resting in the nest of His love.

Take heart, dear one. Your nest may feel small. Your strength may feel feeble. But His care is unwavering. His warmth is genuine. His presence is enough.

Watch the birds. Let them teach you again what it means to trust, wait, and rest. There is a holy nest above the light—and you are in it.

With Love,

Steve Porter

https://www.morningglorydevo.com

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