Another surprise at NCIS. Bettyann says that she thinks the door
has been left open for Abby Scuito, one of our favorite characters, to return at sometime down the road. I'm not sure about that but we both agree that Abby brought to us a fascinating, current view of the
increasing role of forensic science in solving crimes. Everything from few skin
cells to a licked postage stamp. DNA tells all! Forensic scientists can
establish an association between a suspect and the crime scene with only an
eyelash or single strand of hair. It appears we leave traces of our presence
where ever we go.
Interestingly enough, the little bit of short hair
that remains on this continuing head not only can help Bettyann trace me down when
she can’t get ahold of me traipsing through the woods; it also can tell her the
whole story of my path of travel—or at least provides some noteworthy details
to that adventuresome story. Scientists have discovered that my hair can divulge
significant habits and particulars of my lifestyle: what I’ve eaten, where started
my journey, if I smoke or what a drink, and if I took a shower before I left
the house. I have learned that a single hair can keep records for months, if
not years, depending on its length.
Maybe the reason for buzzing my head so often.
I remember grandma Silva first telling me as a small
fella, in her kitchen, as I sat in a wash tub, taking a bath and her rinsing my
hair with warm water that God knew the number of hairs on my head. I was thoroughly amazed and a little troubled
at the thought of it. The number of hairs on my head was something I didn't
know about myself; it was something no one else seemed to know about me either.
This meant that someone knew something about me that my mom or my grandma
didn't know. At that age, mom and grandma knew everything. I thought It meant that someone had the
capacity—and the aspiration—to know me and all of my details.
Ruminating this morning, I looked at this promise
quite literally, it was at once both comforting and troubling. When I sat in
Brownie’s barber chair and heard the scissors clip, clip, clip, was it making
work for God? How often did God have to recount them? And why did God care how
many hairs I had anyway? Certainly it was one detail that God could overlook.
It wasn’t until sometime later I was given the
rest of Jesus's words uttered that day: "Are not five sparrows sold for
two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of
your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many
sparrows." Strand of hair or simple sparrow, worry, fear, or dream, God
does not overlook even one.
That God knows the number of hairs on my head is
still a thought at which I do well to wonder. Wrapped up tightly within such
knowledge is the great and fearful truth about who I am praying to when my eyes
grow heavy with need for a nap, who walks beside me through these shadowy hollows
and streams of rippling waters, Who hears my groaning when I can’t put what I
mean in words. God knows me more specifically and more effectively than I know myself—a
thought that reminds me that God is Father, a detail that holds both
immeasurable love and great consequence. God knows not only the stories told in
each strand of your hair but every detail of who I am: the desires of my heart,
the worries I carry, the questions I don't know how to ask.
According to the Natural History Museum of London,
the average person has up to 150,000 hairs on his or her head. The one who
knows exactly where I stand in that average, who has knit me together in my
mother's womb and knows each word on my tongue before it is formed, is a God of
remembrance. Like the psalmist’s question in Psalm 144, I wonder. "O Lord,
what are human beings that you regard them, or mortals that you think of them?
They are like a breath; their days are like a passing shadow”. In the echoing
of that question across time the promise of Christ is also heard:
"Everyone who acknowledges me before others, the Son of Man also will
acknowledge before the angels of God." Luke 12. Not even one of them will
be forgotten.
Thank You, Father, again
for allowing me to experience this perfect love that casts aside my fears and
am given not only a reason to trust, but a will to obey. Amen
