crazy hens on the loose

Every single day this summer

I've had escapee-hens.

And every single day

I try to coax them back to safety,

with little immediate success.

And every single day

I write a sermon in my mind,

as I'm chasing the above mentioned hens around 

my yard.

"Chickens," I say, "I am your keeper,

I feed you endless supplies of food.

And give you ever-flowing drinks of water.

I give you safe boundaries.

And within those boundaries, your life is

pretty darn good.

No predators that I can't single-handedly

take down.

Nothing is bigger than me,

your care-taker,

that I can't protect you from."

(Okay, maybe that's a bit far-fetched....

cause I doubt that I would rise to the occasion,

should a 

coyote/raccoon/opossum/anything-else-I-deem-as-creepy

 get in their pen.)

But for the sake of my sermon,

this works. 

How too often we

run around like crazy hens,

fretting, worrying, living-life-on-the loose,

thinking life is easier on our own...

free from the boundaries of safety and

endless Living Water,

yet resisting THE ONE who wants to

get us back to that very safety, as soon as possible?

Yes, we all do it.

It's ridiculous, right?

Yep, it is.

Thank you Jesus for your patience

and extreme measures to

get us back into the hen-house of life!

I will finish the outline of my sermon notes

and send them to area pastors.

I have a few loose ends to tie together first.

And perhaps some sort of

flip-chart.

Maybe a felt board.

Not sure yet.

Amen.

Oh, and to my hens...

Just so you know, 

I'm not Jesus.

And I will eventually leave you for dead

if you don't stop escaping.

(That's not part of my sermon.)

(Although maybe it should be.)

Speaking inquiries welcomed.

Shoot me an email.