Squawk Box

This week I was assigned the glamorous task of working in the chicken coop. Chicken coop duty seems like it would be a pretty straightforward, low-stress, low-exertion task–you simply have to feed and water the chickens three times a day–but it has the reputation of being dreadful. After I was assigned to this job, I quickly found out that it not only lives up to its reputation–it is about a million times worse than I expected. I wasn’t quite sure exactly what to expect, but I soon discovered that chickens are my least favorite creatures on the entire planet. They are not only dumb, but they are also mean.

 First of all, while you are fumbling around trying to unlock the door to get in to feed them, they reach their grimy little necks through the fence and try to peck at your hands. Once you finally get into the coop, they commence World War III on you, bombarding you with pecks and staring you down with their evil little eyes. We were instructed to use some PVC pipes to bang up against the side of the coop to scare them away from the door and keep them from escaping, but no matter how hard you bang, they just stare at you and continue flocking toward the door. The PVC pipes are supposed to be your defensive weapon–your trusty sword to fend off the pecks of the feisty beaks. But the you swing the pipe, the angrier they get and the more furious their attacks become. At one point, I saw one particularly irritated chicken reel back, look straight into my eyes, and launch at me. Luckily, I was able to hold it back with my pipe Excalibur, but it was a close call.

After sheepishly getting into the coop, I sheepishly made my way toward the feed container and with each moment I spent with them, I grew more and more frustrated with the seemingly ungrateful and spiteful chickens. At one point, I even found myself yelling at them, “CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU?!” I couldn’t believe that even though Jessica and I were the ones trying to give them food and keep them alive, they still made every attempt to attack us.

When I finally emerged from the fiery pits of the chicken coop, a look of pure horror was plastered on my face. I never wanted to do that again. Tears may or may not have welled up into eyes.

Later that night during team time, I decided to open my ears to what God wanted to speak to me. I know that God doesn’t say pointless things, but His words to me were not only strange, but also a little offensive considering the trauma I had just been through in the coop.

He told me, “Claire, you are my chicken.”

Hold up. Does He have any idea how I feel about those foul fowl? But once again, I know that God doesn’t waste words. After I took a few moments to process His comment, I realized that those chickens and I are frighteningly similar creatures.

Every day He visits me without fail, and every day I peck right back at Him, even though He is my only hope of sustenance–my sole life source. As He brings me exactly what I need exactly when I need it, I coil back and grow angry at the thought that He would dare invade on my space or that he would intrude on my routine. But somehow, by some miracle, He comes back for me every day.

After a little more thinking, I realized that while Jessica and I are in charge of feeding the chickens, they in turn feed us. This is a sobering and beautiful thought because ultimately, I am the Lord’s, just as the chickens are ultimately mine to eat. I exist for His purposes just as the chickens exist to be used. Maybe they will end up in soup or maybe they will end up inside a delicious empanada or maybe they will provide us with eggs. Maybe I’ll be here, maybe I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll do this, maybe I’ll do that. The difference between those chickens and me, however, is that regardless of how I end up or how many times I peck at the Father’s feet or try to drive Him out, He loves me unconditionally. He looks down on His chickens and sees beloved children. He watches me peck at Him and says, “Altogether lovely.” He walks with me and steps in my poop and calls me beautiful. His ears are filled with my squawking and complaining and He smiles back at me and tells me that I am His friend.

The Father brings us the places where we can look into our frustrations and see His grace. He points our eyes towards Him in the unlikeliest of places, shattering our expectations of Him and further confirming the truth that no matter where we are– whether we are holding a child in our arms or in the treacherous chicken coop– we look to Him to find out who we are. Whatever we find, He looks at us and calls us His and chooses to love us unconditionally.