Birthdays

Max Evans-Browning, a five-year-old from Wales, captured hearts worldwide by creating a touching tribute to Sir David Attenborough’s 99th birthday. Max spent four days drawing 99 animals — one for each year of the renowned naturalist’s life — demonstrating his admiration and artistic dedication.

Max’s project spanned eight A3 sheets, and his parents proudly shared, “He’s a huge fan of Sir David and wanted to do something special to celebrate his birthday.” The child’s detailed and colorful drawings include a wide variety of animals, from familiar pets to exotic wildlife, showcasing his keen interest in nature at a young age.

Attenborough himself has been a source of inspiration for many generations, and Max’s artistic gift is a heartfelt homage to the man whose documentaries have shaped public understanding of the natural world. Max’s mother said, “It’s amazing to see such creativity and enthusiasm in a child so young.”

The tribute also highlights the power of youthful curiosity and creativity in fostering a connection with nature and science. Max’s drawings not only celebrate a milestone birthday but also encourage others to appreciate the diversity of life on Earth.

Local media praised Max’s efforts as “a wonderful example of how children can be inspired by science and nature.” The story has resonated globally, reminding people of all ages to cherish the natural world and those who dedicate their lives to protecting it.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Like Max’s art honors Attenborough and creation, our worship honors God through our gifts and love for what He made.

Need some perspective on the brevity of life? Here's a God's-eye view of the earth: Check out this real-time map of births and deaths around the world.

In 1950, there were 2.5 billion humans. As of January 2025, there are nearly 8.1 billion people. In another 30 years, according to U.S. Census Bureau projections, there will be more than 9 billion.

Brad Lyon has a doctoral degree in mathematics and does software development. He wanted to make those numbers visual. So, he and designer Bill Snebold made a hugely popular interactive simulation map of births and deaths in the U.S. alone (as of 2024, population 337 million)—the population of which is on pace to increase 44 percent by 2050.

Possible Preaching Angles:

Birth; Death; Life, short - How many people will die in the next minute? How many will be born? How should these numbers motivate us? Think of each of them as a story, as a unique soul loved infinitely by God. This is an excellent starting point for a sermon on Easter, resurrection, and our mortality. Consider projecting the real-time map as a stunning visual illustration.

Many people try to get away from their day job to celebrate their birthday. One New Jersey man, however, decided to do exactly the opposite. Bill Hansen celebrated his 100th birthday by returning to the job he worked diligently for 32 years. Fred Hutchinson, CEO of Hutchinson Plumbing, Heating and Cooling, who signed Hansen back on with the company for one day, welcomed him with a birthday cake and a full day of assignments.

"He took off about 15 minutes after we signed that agreement to get to work," said Hutchinson. Hansen, who had spent as much time as he could at the company before retiring at age 97, did not have much to say for retired life. "I hate being retired ... I never had a job where I didn't want to go to work in the morning." Hansen said he attributes much of his happiness in life to his love of his work, his wife, and his family.

Potential Preaching Angles: Work; Honoring God—The Bible calls us to work hard and cheerfully, "as if working for the Lord." This not only pleases God, but is a powerful tool for our own happiness and contentment on earth.

Max Lucado compares our relationship with Christ with a gift Billy Joel gave his daughter.

On her 12th birthday she was in New York City, and the pop musician was in Los Angeles. He phoned her that morning, apologizing for his absence, but told her to expect the delivery of a large package before the end of the day. The daughter answered the doorbell that evening to find a seven-foot-tall, brightly wrapped box. She tore it open, and out stepped her father, fresh off the plane from the West Coast. Can you imagine her surprise?

Perhaps you can. Your gift came in the flesh too.

Passing by a table in a local restaurant, I noticed a gentleman who was to be celebrating his 100th birthday the following week, eating with some of his family. I stopped and said to him, "you're out celebrating a little early, aren't you?" He looked at me and asserted, "At my age, son, every day is a celebration!"

As you know, birthdays make one thoughtful. If one is prepared to be honest, any birthday means one has aged. That makes me realize that whenever we speak of aging we use distancing language. We say words like "they," or "the aged." We say that "by the end of the century there will be such and such a percentage of our population and such and such an age" and so avoid the fact that we may well be part of that great impersonal statement. We are all, potentially and inevitably, the aged, the elderly, the old.

Age is opportunity no less

Our six-year-old son, Alex, was looking at a picture of himself when he was one week old. Upon seeing his umbilical cord still attached in the picture, he asked, "What is that black thing on my belly button?"

His eight-year-old sister, Maria, quickly replied, "That's your extension cord!"

Our church has a custom that people celebrating birthdays come to the front of the auditorium. There they give an offering in thankfulness for life, while the congregation sings "Happy Birthday."

Sometimes, rather than go forward, shy people give an anonymous offering to the Sunday school director. One Sunday, the director came forward and proclaimed, "I have here an ominous birthday offering."

A grey-haired man spoke up, "Aren't they all?"

This is a special anniversary for me. Seven years ago today, at this very hour, I was on the operating table in the Presbyterian Hospital, and they were cutting their way into my heart. That operation was a lot longer then than it is now, and it took longer to come out of the anesthesia because they gave you so much more of it.

I can remember the process of coming to consciousness. At first, I was aware of my existence only by my thoughts. That is, I had no sensory data on which to depend. I could not hear or see or smell or taste or touch. Yet I could think. Descartes says that's enough--"I think, therefore I am." It seemed true to me at that moment.

And then hearing came. The first thing that I heard was a strange beeping, which I later identified to be a heart monitor recording the beating of my own heart muscle. The next thing I heard was the sound of singing. It was the sound of a Christmas carol, and it was being sung softly and far away. As I listened, it got closer and closer. They stopped the carol and they began to sing a song written by a good friend of mine, Jester Hairston, a song called "Amen," which he wrote for a film called Lilies of the Field. And even though I had a great tube going into my mouth (for the machine was doing my breathing for me), I began to try to form clumsily with my lips the words of that song, "Amen, Amen."

Then I opened my eyes, and there above me was a great, smiling black face. And a woman said to me, "Love, you're singing with us. And Jesus is born. Amen!" And she bent down and kissed me. It was one of those moments that touched the very center of me.