There’s something about sparrows that has always caught my attention.
They’re not flashy or rare. In fact, they’re everywhere—common, ordinary little birds that most people overlook. But when you really stop to notice them, there’s something quietly beautiful about their movements, their patterns, their design. And if you look closely enough, it becomes impossible to ignore the thought: where there is a design, there must be a Designer.
That was the inspiration behind Even A Sparrow.
I wanted to capture a moment—not a miracle or a dramatic scene—but a moment of stillness. A moment that reminds us of the gentleness of Jesus. Not high on a hillside or in front of crowds, but low to the ground, among the smallest of creatures. Quiet. Attentive. Present.
In this painting, Jesus is feeding sparrows. That’s all. And yet, to me, it says so much. It brings to mind the words from Matthew 10:29:
“Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father… Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.”
There’s a profound comfort in that. In a world that moves fast and often values only the loudest or the most visible, it’s easy to wonder: Does God really see me? Does He care about the small details of my life?
I believe He does.
That’s what I hoped to express in this painting—the idea that the Savior notices. He notices the sparrow, and He notices you. Not because you’ve done something grand or extraordinary, but simply because you are His. And that alone is enough. When I look at Even A Sparrow, I’m reminded that God’s love isn’t reserved for the spotlight moments. It’s found in the quiet ones—in the stillness of an early morning, in a whispered prayer, in the unnoticed acts of kindness, and in the gentle care of the Savior who kneels, not just for kings and prophets, but for sparrows.
And for you.



























































