Between the Yellow Lines
Click below to listen to the reach:
The sun was shining brightly through the windows of our car as we drove down a winding road that Sunday morning. It was peaceful; we were on our way to church, just another ordinary drive…until I heard:
“Oh no… oh no, no…”
My husband leaned forward, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. My heart immediately followed his urgency.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I think that was a baby bird in the middle of the road… should I turn around?”
My mind started racing - logic hit me first:
We’re on a busy road.
We don’t even know what it was.
Is this even worth it?
There was a pause between us. The road kept moving forward, but something in my husband shifted.
“I feel like God is telling me to turn around and move it… especially if it’s a baby bird.”
We passed a driveway and quickly turned in, gravel crunching under the tires as we spun around. We drove back, I strained my eyes, but I still couldn’t see anything clearly.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s a baby. It’s still alive!”
We pulled over and I scrambled for something - anything - we could use, and finally landed on a piece of cardboard. My husband ran out into the road, and somehow, in those few minutes, it felt like God pressed pause on traffic because no cars came through.
I stayed back, watching the road, heart pounding and…there it was.
A tiny mockingbird, frozen between the yellow lines. Its tail feathers were broken. It most likely was in shock from being hit and terrified. Its parents darted back and forth on the guardrail, frantic, helpless, instinctually trying to protect.
The little bird panicked as my husband approached. It flared, tiny wings trembling, doing everything it could to survive. But it couldn’t move. And finally - after a struggle - it was gently scooped off the road, placed into the brush where danger no longer rushed past it at 50 miles an hour.
We got back into the car, and continued driving to church. My mind was spinning as I replayed this moment throughout the course of the sermon - these moments are so simple on the surface, but deeper, God always has an entire lesson for us if we are willing to listen.
And when I understood, it hit me hard: how many times have I been like that bird?
Frozen in the middle of something dangerous, and surrounded by noise and chaos - unable to move forward… but still fighting and flaring, still trying to handle it on my own.
And then…Jesus steps in. But instead of recognizing Him, I panic.
Because help doesn’t always feel gentle at first. Sometimes it interrupts and confronts. Sometimes it looks nothing like what we expected. And I am too focused on my plans and circumstances, on getting somewhere, or on whether something was “worth it.” Ultimately it’s because I was too focused on myself.
Then, however, I thought about it more: what if we miss Jesus not because He’s hidden…but because we’re looking in the wrong direction?
“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:29
We often think this verse is about doubt, but today it’s made me think…what if it’s also about awareness? About recognizing God not just in the obvious, miraculous moments, but in the quiet nudges, the interruptions, the turn the car around kind of whispers.
That morning, Jesus was already at work on that road. He saw the bird, and He invited us into that moment. Not because we had to be the heroes. But because we had the opportunity to be obedient. I am thankful for the heart of my husband and what I got to learn from it, because I know I would have kept driving.
How often does He place something - or someone - in our path and gently says:
Turn around. Pay attention. This matters.
The truth is, I believe we don’t always recognize Jesus because we’re not always seeking Him. Not fully - not with our whole heart. We seek answers and comfort. We seek clarity. But do we seek Him.
Because when we do - when we truly, fully seek Him - we begin to notice Him everywhere. In the small, seemingly insignificant things that suddenly feel profound.
That baby bird didn’t know it was being rescued; all it knew was that its circumstances were changing, and that felt terrifying.
And maybe that’s where some of us are right now. God is moving in your life. Shifting things. Interrupting your plans. And it doesn’t feel like a rescue.
It feels confusing.
Uncomfortable.
Even a little scary.
But what if it’s Him? What if He’s been there all along…and the invitation is simply to look? To slow down and listen - to seek Him, not just in the big moments, but in the small, ordinary, right in front of you moments.
Because He promises:
If you seek Him, you will find Him.
"As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness.” Ezekiel 34:12
If you feel like you are not hearing God, with love I wish to encourage self reflection: how deeply do you truly seek Him? How surrendered is your heart? How much are you in the way of yourself? What brokenness are you allowing to lead you?
I think about the disciples after the resurrection. More than once, Jesus stood right in front of people who loved Him, and they didn't immediately recognize Him.
Not because He wasn't there, but because they weren't expecting Him to appear the way He did. The same can happen to us. (Gosh, I am guilty of this…)
God is constantly speaking through His Word, through His Spirit, through conviction, through circumstances, and sometimes through the smallest moments that seem insignificant at first, but suddenly become holy.
The question is not always, "Is God speaking?"
Sometimes the question is, "Am I paying attention?"
God is not hiding from us, but sometimes, when we actually expose the very nature of it, we are hiding from Him - behind distraction, fear, bitterness, busyness, control, or even the version of faith that wants His answers without His presence.
And yet, He is still the Shepherd who comes looking.
He rescues His scattered sheep from “clouds and darkness.” He sees the places we have wandered, the ways we have been wounded, the roads we have frozen in the middle of, and He does not leave us there.
But the invitation is not only to be rescued.
It is to recognize the Rescuer.
May we not be so focused on the road ahead that we miss what He is asking us to notice right in front of us.
May we be people who turn around.
Who pay attention.
Who listen.
Who seek Him.
And may we learn to recognize His rescue, even when it first feels like an interruption.
"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me."
John 10:27
