Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.
Matthew 10:29-31
I often hear people share about the significance of crossroads moments—big decisions that will change the trajectory of our lives one way or another—but I don’t often hear people talk about the days after.
When Jesus spoke these words to the disciples in Matthew 10, their decisions to follow him were still relatively new. They had left their families, their jobs, and their communities, closing the doors on the futures they’d envisioned for themselves, in order to follow the Messiah. Now, having been with him for a time as he performed signs and miracles, Jesus commissions them with power and sends them out with the command to proclaim his kingdom to Israel.
At this point, the disciples were expecting the Messiah to reveal himself as a conquering king over Roman tyranny, establishing a physical kingdom on earth and restoring Israel to its promised glory—which makes Jesus’ next words even more surprising.
Jesus follows his commission and commands with a caution: they will be persecuted.
Yes, he was the Messiah, the Son of God, yes, he would conquer, but not in the way they expected. Although the disciples didn’t yet understand, Christ would soon submit himself to the injustice and humiliation of both corrupt Jewish and Roman leadership, endure betrayal, torture, and the full, overwhelming wrath of the Father, in order to conquer a problem even greater than Rome: sin and death. Jesus explains that, as his followers, the disciples would experience a portion of the suffering he would soon endure.
It seems like a bleak picture. And not what you would expect from making the “right choice” at a crossroads.
Expectation v. reality
If you’re anything like me, you have an expectation that, when you choose the “right thing” at a crossroads decision, there will be a favorable outcome. The disciples had made the right choice in surrendering their lives to follow the Messiah, and yet the promise they receive was one of suffering.
A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household. (Matt. 10:24-25)
But Jesus didn’t stop there. His caution is followed by words of comfort:
So have no fear of [those who persecute you], for nothing is covered that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:26-30)
The disciples didn’t have the full picture—it wasn’t yet time for them to understand the depths of God’s mercy revealed in his redemption plan. Notice that Jesus didn’t choose to make that plan known to them, instead, he said, trust me. I see your suffering, I value you, and I am working out a plan for your good and my glory.
More valuable than many sparrows
When I started this painting, meditating on that passage in Matthew, I thought through the aftermath of one of my own crossroads decisions. In the years prior, I had chosen to walk through a door that changed my life in a drastic and permanent way. Because I felt confident it was what God was asking of me, I had an expectation that, although it would require sacrifice, the immediate outcome would be good.
But it wasn’t. At least, it didn’t feel that way. I chose to do what God asked me to do, and the result was a season of isolation, intense pain, and no answers. I had followed God’s lead, and it had led me into a desert.
But could I trust that it had a purpose? Even if it was “not yet revealed,” could I trust that someday it would be? Could I trust that the suffering wasn’t a result of God’s anger or absence, but part of his perfect plan that would achieve both his glory and my good?
This painting is a reminder that there is not a single thing that escapes God’s notice. He sees when a single, inconsequential sparrow falls to the ground, and he sees each tear that falls from our eyes. He has tenderly numbered the hairs on our heads. In his eyes, we are precious and valuable—worth dying for.
Because we know he sees us, and because we know he loves us, we hear these word whispered into our pain: “do not fear.” Even in the middle of this desert, even when the cost of doing the right thing leads to pain that we do not understand, he sees, he knows, and he is working out a plan even greater than we can imagine.
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