An Insight From a Turtle
- Aug 14
- 5 min read
“Consider the birds of the sky: They don’t sow or reap or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth more than they? Can any of you add one moment to his life span by worrying?” (Matthew 6:26-27)
It’s fun how my Heavenly Father teaches me truths that go deep within me.
Sometimes it starts with a verse the Father brings to mind, then illustrates it with an example from the physical world. At other times, He gives me a picture or an idea, and then ignites a scripture in my mind to explain it, offer a rebuke, encourage me, or issue a warning He’s trying to impart to me.
Yeah, He did that to me this morning.
Again.
About two years ago, I was helping a friend clean pools here in southwest Florida. One afternoon, as I started the day’s final job, I noticed a small critter swimming furiously on the surface of the pool’s deep end. It was a small Florida box turtle, about two inches long from front to back. Somehow the little thing had found a way into the lanai, crawled across the pavers, and plopped into the pool. Given the pool’s design, there was no way this little tusker was going to get out, and pool water isn’t the best environment for a box turtle.
So, I magnanimously bent down and rescued it.
I decided to bring it home because my grandson, Skodre, loves reptiles and amphibians. He is the quintessential anole-hunter (a small lizard). I figured he would love to care for a box turtle when he was a bit older. For the time being, I would have to take on the duties. I don’t regard this as a passing responsibility. This box turtle breed can live up to 40 years, grow to about 6 inches long, and weigh 1 to 2 pounds. At about three years of age, Shelly is already 3 ½” long. She’s going to be a hefty terrapene.
Yes, it’s a she. The internet taught me how to identify her gender. Funny, there are only two genders for box turtles, while the world declares that there are a multitude of genders for humans. Curious, don’t you think?
Anyway, before we knew her preferred pronouns, my wife and I thought she was a he. So we named “him” Shelldon. Corny, yes. When we realized “Shelldon” was of the gentler sex, we renamed her Shelly. Yup. Couldn’t let the corny-ness go.
Every morning I go out to Shelly’s habitat to see how she’s doing. Over the last two years, she’s mostly learned not to fear us, although she does get a little skittish. Feeding her helps. We used to drop her turtle food pellets into her dish and watch her slowly creep out of her hiding place to the dish, constantly on guard in case the giant who fed her was still visible. Now, not so much. She even takes her provision from my hand.
It’s really cool.
First thing in the morning, I say hi to Shelly. Every day she’s waiting at the entrance of her clay pot hideaway or wandering around the coconut fiber mat awaiting my grand entrance with the turtle nummies. I’ve never heard her ask, beg, cry out, or make a fuss. She just waits for the inevitable. She makes short work of the pellets when they appear, and soon goes about her business, usually walking around, swimming, and sunning herself.
Not a bad gig, if you ask me.
But I received one of those “Heavenly Father insights” this morning while thinking about Shelly’s daily breakfast.
This time, I saw the provision process more from His point of view. I believe it was the Holy Spirit letting me know something about my Father’s thoughts and emotions.
As I did with Shelly, my Father rescued me and committed to take care of me. Every day, He provides me with my daily provisions, be it food, housing, or protection. Whatever I need. He takes delight in caring for me. He’s pleased when I come to Him without fear. He’s happy when I get as close as I can to His hand to receive and enjoy what He’s provided for me.
Although I forget to thank Him more often or not, He’s pleased when He sees me waiting expectantly, and when I come to Him, recognizing that He’s my sole provider. Unlike Shelly, though, I do ask, and even beg, cry out, and make a fuss at times. He’s let that slide so often I’ve lost count, and He still provides reliably without a scolding word.
My Father knows my limitations, my preferences, and my fragile state, even though, like a box turtle, I have a tough outer shell that makes me think I’m stronger than I am. At times I fall on my back and struggle to right myself. There are times when my Heavenly Father sees that and gently reaches out to help me get right side up again.
He even delights in touching me, holding me, calming me, and helping me learn that He’s not so scary or intimidating.
My Father likes watching me grow.
This whole realization was similar to what I felt when I first became a father myself. I saw my relationship with my Father in a new light when I held my babies, who became toddlers, then children, then teenagers, then (mostly) mature adults who are still learning about life.
Every once in a while, I need to be reminded that to my Father, I’m very much like one of those helpless things He created—flowers, birds, and turtles—which need His constant care and ever-watchful eye.
It’s a small but deep reminder, one I need every so often, so I can appreciate the magnitude of this remarkably caring giant of a God who stoops to help His small and dependent creatures, whom He loves very much.
Best of all, he likes having me around, just like I enjoy Shelly’s company.
Yeah, this is a small insight for an early morning, but it’s a big encouragement for me.
I hope it is for you as well.
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Shining the Light of God’s Truth on the Road Ahead
Pastor Jay Christianson
The Truth Barista, Frothy Thoughts