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Writer's pictureKevin Burrell

Goldfinch: Late is Right on Time


Adult male American goldfinch perched on a sunflower stem
© Richard Hammer, used by permission

Sometimes two months late is right on time.

 

As I write this in mid-August, American Goldfinches are finally getting around to the business of nest-building and egg-incubating. Most North American songbirds have already raised a brood… or two… or three. The Northern Cardinals in my backyard, for instance, got busy back in March with clutch number one, and five months later they’ve raised a small but ruthless cardinal army, dominating the feeders by their sheer numbers. I think they’re working on clutch number four, if that’s even possible (and I’m told that it is). What have the goldfinches been doing during all this time? An over-achieving cardinal might say, “Not much, slackers.” Meanwhile, the goldfinch has been taking it a day at a time, working on their molt, shooting the breeze with fellow finches, and basically living out a very carefree Enneagram 7.

 

But now it’s business time, and the timing proves to be very intentional. Goldfinches are strict vegetarians, fully seed-focused, and they’re especially fond of sunflower and thistle, both of which go to seed very late in the season. So goldfinches are absolutely content to delay their family planning until they’re certain a hearty food source will be available to feed their chicks, waiting out the milkweed bloom in mid-summer. That means some will start nesting around mid-June, but peak season won’t happen until July to early August.

 

Predictably, I’m noticing more goldfinches at my feeders in the past two weeks. Honestly I never get tired of watching them. Their yellow is the yellowest of yellows, and that’s not just poetic sentimentalism; their body feathers are yellow on the tips but white on the lower half, which results in more light reflection from underneath, creating an almost glowing effect. David Allen Sibley writes, “The feathers of a goldfinch essentially form a translucent yellow film with backlighting.” They’re all dressed up and ready to nab that early-July sunflower and mid-summer milkweed thistle.

 

Every species has some sort of role to play in its habitat — a concept that ecologists refer to as a species’ niche. But a niche isn’t just about what you do, but when you do it, and goldfinches have carved out a unique summer job. They’re not lazy; two months late is right on time.


Adult male American Goldfinch hanging from a sunflower
© Richard Hammer, used by permission

Two Years Late

 

Sometimes two years late is right on time.

 

In Genesis 40 we find Joseph at the lowest moment in his life… almost. Sold into slavery by his brothers, drug into the service of an Egyptian official, and then falsely accused of adultery with his boss’s wife, now Joseph sits in a dank prison with two other officials. Pharoah has just experienced a meal that didn’t sit well with his stomach, and since he can’t decide if it was the food or the drink that made him sick, he throws both the baker and cupbearer in prison while he sorts it out. Jailed until further notice, both men have similarly-themed dreams, and God gives Joseph the capacity to interpret them. Having played the role of the butler/cupbearer in a lower-than-low budget production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in college, I still have my lines memorized:


"There I was standing in front of a vine.

I picked some grapes and I crushed them for wine.

I gave them to Pharaoh, who drank from my cup.

I tried to interpret but I had to give up.”

 

The baker’s ditty has a more foreboding tone. While the cupbearer gets images of wine tasting at a chateau, the baker gets a Hitchcock movie:

 

 “There I was standing with baskets of bread.

High in the sky I saw birds overhead,

Who flew to the baskets, and ate every slice.

Now give me the message—like his would be nice.”

 

Joseph confidently predicts the demise of the baker and the acquittal of the butler, and the next morning things play out exactly as foreseen. As the butler heads back to his cabinet position in the court of Pharoah, Joseph’s words echo through the prison walls: “But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of this prison.” (Genesis 40:14)

 

You had one job, Butler. Don’t forget to remember. But the butler seemingly puts all memory of that prison experience behind him. And the next six words are haunting:

 

“When two full years had passed…” (Genesis 41:1)

 

Welcome to the lowest point in Joseph’s life.

 

We know that this brief meeting with the cupbearer is the turning point of Joseph’s career; without this meeting, Joseph never gets his promotion. This guy is his ticket out. But not yet. Joseph’s hope is put on hold for two more years. But consider this, as readers who get to stand outside the story and look in. Things are playing out exactly the way they need to. Imagine how the story would have ended if the butler had remembered Joseph in a quick and timely fashion, so that Joseph didn’t spend two extra years in prison. Great, he gets out, but to what end? Not to become Pharaoh’s #2 and rescue the world from a seven-year famine — we need Pharaoh to have his dream first (Genesis 41:1-5). Joseph probably would have been released from prison into a life of Egyptian obscurity, eking out a meager living weighed down by a scandalous resume, maybe trying to earn a bus ticket back to Canaan. But we know the story: to move forward later, he’s got to stay put now.

 

In God’s plan, two years late is right on time.

 


The Fullness of Time


Adult Male Goldfinch perched
© Keith Lewis, used by permission

Sometimes two millennia late is right on time.

 

The Apostle Paul uses a powerful phrase twice in his writings, perfectly describing the longing of centuries. The first is in Galatians 4:4-5: “But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.” The fullness of time. In other words, Jesus came into the world when the timing was most perfect for him to do so. What makes the First Century such a “perfect time”? I’ve heard speculative answers like the emergence of Roman roads, the Pax Romana, the Hellenization of philosophy, the Jewish diaspora, the full bloom of Messianic expectation, or simply the moment when civilization most needed a rescue. Maybe it was all of these, some of these, or none of these; we would need a perfect understanding to perfectly answer that question. But Jesus was neither late nor early; to quote Gandalf, “He arrives precisely when he means to.”

 

Paul uses the phrase one more time, for a different anticipation, not Jesus’ first coming but his second one, “making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” (Ephesians 1:9-10) This promise looks forward to the victory of Jesus, bringing the final perfection of love and justice into this broken world. What will make that perfect time perfect? Again, I’ve heard many speculative answers about the end times, and confident assertions that we’re in the last days. Many throughout history have claimed with confidence that this day will occur within their lifetime, and (spoiler alert) it hasn’t happened yet. Why does the Lord tarry? I’m reminded of this verse:

“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9) God’s patient kindness is meant to pave the way for our repentance (Romans 2:4) — the gracious delay of second chances. Had Jesus returned the year before my conversion, I would have faced the Throne without a Redeemer. Instead, we who deserve the baker’s judgment have received the butler’s pardon. Merciful longsuffering!

 

Delay doesn’t always make sense in the moment. Why didn’t the cupbearer remember Joseph sooner? Why hasn’t Jesus come back yet? Why are those goldfinches procrastinating so badly on their “birds and the bees” assignment?

 

If we lack a perfect knowledge of the timeline, we can humbly trust the one who does possess that sovereign capacity. This gives us patience for all things made new on that final “fullness of time” day. But in the meantime, it also helps us trust the difficult moments of chronic “stuckness” that come to every life — situations where we need to live out the replete biblical commands to “wait on the Lord.” It’s watching all your friends get married off while you remain single. It’s experiencing another setback when you hoped the doctor would finally give you a clean bill of health. It’s being stuck in the same job or the same town or the same situation as friends and colleagues head off to greener pastures. It’s watching other people get the opportunity you hoped for, the scholarship you needed, the award you wanted, or the vacation to the place you’ve always wanted to go to. It’s the struggle with childlessness or joblessness or joylessness. We’re often tasked with weathering seasons of hardship — what St. John of the Cross called the “dark night of the soul.” But rather than walk down the well-worn paths of bitterness, cynicism, or despondency, we can hold on with a simple trust in a sovereign hand who is never late, always on time.

 

The goldfinch may seem to delay, but it actually knows exactly what it’s doing.

 

Joseph’s rescue seemed unnecessarily delayed, but God was still writing the script that Joseph would step into.

 

We don’t understand the why of our own chronic moments of stuckness, but we believe a good God is still on the throne in the hardest parts of our story.

 

We don’t know when Jesus is returning, but whenever it is, we know this with confidence: he will be right on time.

 

Don’t forget to remember.


Adult male American Goldfinch among sunflowers
© Richard Hammer, used by permission

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