Musing About A Little Hen

Every year, Mom gets a number of meat chickens to raise. I think it's really quite necessary for our family - it's a lot cheaper to buy 50+ chickens, and raise them yourself, rather than buying $50+ worth of meat every week just to feed your ravenous, growing, high-metabolic family.

My Mom is a thinker, and she thinks about these things.

Every year, there is that one little chick that doesn't do quite as well as the rest. Either it didn't start out as strong in the first place, or, over the weeks as it grew it was shoved aside, away from the food, by the other chickens, and so never had the opportunity to thrive like it should.

Still, no matter the reason, there's one every year.

This morning as I was doing the chores, I opened the door to let all the chickens out. (We do this so they can peck around the yard, eating up bugs and getting a wee bit of fresh air and exercise.) They all came tumbling out, pleased to escape the confines of their shed. I watched with amusement as the fat ones stumbled along, clucking and bobbing their heads as they began searching for dainty morsels in the grass.

Then I saw the Little One.

She was stepping slowly out of the shed, her head drawn back as though she were both scared and extremely tired. She didn't seem to trust the other chickens; she didn't follow them as they moved across the yard. She was on the point of exhaustion, and she seemed very hungry, but unable to do anything about it.

I feel like that sometimes.

I went and got her a bit of grain from the barn, and put it in front of her. She began to eat as though she hadn't been near food for a day and a half. I was inclined to believe it; she's half the size of the other chickens.

I crouched in front of her as she ate, guarding her from the other chickens who came stumble-running from wherever they had gone, intent upon taking her food. I kept them away as they gave me dirty looks. (Have you ever gotten a dirty look from a chicken?)

As more and more came, I finally picked up the Little One and moved her to just beside the barn, giving her another pile of food. The previous pile was soon devoured by the other chickens, who sprang upon it the very second I stepped away.

Still, they weren't content to remain at that pile and let the Little One have her own. As I was feeding the other animals, they came sauntering over, and as I watched they nearly swamped her, shoving her and stepping on her until she cried out in pain. I rescued her from there and set her up on a bin, feeding her a bit more in safety.

I then set her behind the barn door, where she was out of the wind, and gave her another pile of grain.

I think God does that for us. He has compassion on us when we are weak, tired, and hungry, and provides what we need. He protects us from the worries and cares of this world, and gives us shelter.

The thing is, I'm not sure if the chicken even realized what I had done. Did the Little One just see the food? Or did she feel my hand on her back, and see my other hand warding off the bigger, stronger chickens? Did she feel comforted? Did she feel safe? Or did she eat, all the while wondering when the other ones were coming to shove her out of the circle, away from the food?

We don't always thank God for what He has done, because He has done what is beyond our understanding. Sometimes, all we see is what He has provided, instead of seeing the gracious Hand that gave it to us.

Romans 11:33

"Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!"

Another Neat Quote

"The more we begin to feel satisfied that we are making some progress along the road of sanctification, it is all the more necessary to repent and confess that all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags. Yet the Christian life is not one of gloom, but of ever increasing joy in the Lord.

God alone knows our good works, all we know is his good work. We can do no more than hearken to his commandment, carry on and rely on his grace, walk in his commandments, and- sin.

All the time our new righteousness, our sanctification, the light which is meant to shine, are veiled from our eyes. The left hand knows not what the right hand does. But we believe, and are well assured, "that he which began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Jesus Christ" (Phil. 1.6).

In that day Christ will show us the good works of which we were unaware. While we knew it not, we gave him food, drink and clothing and visited him, and while we knew it not we rejected him. Great will be our astonishment in that day, and we shall then realize that it is not our works which remain, but the work which God has wrought through us in his good time without any effort of will and intention on our part (Matt. 25.31ff).

Once again we simply are to look away from ourselves to him who has himself accomplished all things for us and to follow him."

~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "The Cost of Discipleship", pg.335

Neat Quote, I Thought

David Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Authority (Chicago: IVP, 1958), 41:

The authority of the Scriptures is not a matter to be defended, so much as to be asserted. I address this remark particularly to Conservative Evangelicals. I am reminded of what the great Charles Haddon Spurgeon once said in this connection: “There is no need for you to defend a lion when he is being attacked. All you need to do is to open the gate and let him out.” We need to remind ourselves frequently that it is the preaching and exposition of the Bible that really establish its truth and authority.

I Don't Remember Writing This...

But normally when I save a poem that I like to my computer, I include the poet's name and the title of the poem. This had neither, and the concept is familiar to me - I remember brainstorming about something like this. Still, I don't remember writing it. Not in the slightest.

Laugh if you like.

~

Look; I am broken down to despair.

For my love, my love, with face so fair,

Whose promise I had kept so close to my heart,

Remembering how she'd said we'd ne'er be apart,

Who promised she'd save me from this cruel fate,

Left without a word through the water's gate.

I could not follow; I am in chains.

I am bound to the ocean that gives me great pain.

I gave my word that the waters would stay

As I directed, so they would obey.

In exchange for my love who betrayed me down here,

I am the ocean shepherd for thousands of years.

I've spent so long in eternal despair,

For my love, my love, considered so fair,

With eyes of blue like the water's deep,

Hair so dark it could put you to sleep,

Her smile like that of the angels above,

And now I have lost her, my poor lonely love.

She waited for years for me to come back,

Eternally weathering the water's attack,

For though I thought I had the rule,

The waters took over; I was such a fool!

I am now chained to the depths of the sea,

Left to serve them eternally.

At first I thought that she would return,

But years have gone by and since then I have learned,

My love was ill placed; I now serve the sea

For there's nothing up there that's better for me.

The water sprites mock me for the love that I lost

And the promise I made that brought such a great cost.

My soul is the sea; my mind is my own.

I'd sooner see all the earth wallow and drown.

There! The water is flooding the land.

They soon will all learn of this poor lonely man

Who was left to himself in the depths of the sea,

And who has finally given in to insanity.

Wait! There she is!...Her eyes are so cheerless

They are dead and grey when once they were fearless.

I killed her; I killed her! And what's in her hand?

The key that would open my miserable bands.

She was coming back for me; Now she is gone

And I am condemned to live all alone.

Salt in the Wound

I was thinking a while ago that salt was used to help prevent infection - to clean a wound of dirt or bacteria. I've read in little notes about it that "if left in too long, the salt would begin to sting".

That got me thinking about Christians in relation to the world.

Most Christians know about Jesus calling us the "salt of the earth" (Matthew 5:13). Most people would also take that to mean something like this:

We're the salt in the wound of worldliness. We sometimes sting, but we help.

That's true, but I thought of something else when I read that last part; the stinging part.

Stinging isn't so fun, and I think a lot of the time, as Christians, we can do more harm - and give more pain - than good.

In the past I've stepped on nails. To help against whatever infection/etc. which might afflict me, I've soaked my wounded foot in salt water. It cleans the wound and eases the ache.

It doesn't hurt because the water dilutes the salt so that there is no stinging. It just feels good.

Similarly, the Holy Spirit brings grace to the words and actions of the Christian. The Holy Spirit is "poured out" on us. If we didn't have the Holy Spirit to help us, to sanctify us, and to give us the words to say in the hour in which we needed them, we'd be the salt that stings, not the salt that helps.

We need the water of the Holy Spirit to make our words and actions beneficial, instead of just painful. We're never too knowledgable or too "holy" to dismiss the One Who lives in us, helping us and making us more Christ-like.

Eh?