Over Christmas, CW and I chickensat for our next-door neighbors. It was a new experience for this town girl. We had to feed them, give them water, move the coop and surrounding chicken wire fence each day so they’d have fresh grass to peck around in, collect eggs, and, of course, count them. The chickens, that is. Two of the eight seem to be proficient escape artists.
The gig made it clear to me that I would never want a permanent job with chickens. Foremost, I now understand “up with the chickens.” I had to rise way earlier than I normally do and get myself outside, regardless of the weather. Another joy killer is the mess. I wore old shoes that I will never wear into the house—or anywhere—ever again. I didn’t even want to wear them into my yard to get to my door.
Other than that, I found the chickens delightful. They are a beautiful cinnamon color, and they look so clean. I don’t know how they keep their feet from getting caked with you-know-what when I could fertilize a garden with what accumulated on my shoes. They were always excited to see me coming. (OK. That might have a little something to do with the food I took them.)
And when they get loose—and they do get loose—they are a cinch to catch. Two escaped their pen when I was on solo duty. When I caught up to the first one, it did what all of our neighbor hens normally do: squatted down and waited for me to pick it up. And the second one actually ran to me when it was her turn. How sweet was that! I never would have thought poultry could melt my heart.
Last month, CW had chicken duty again a couple of mornings; their “grandma” did evening duty. The chickens were carefully counted each day, evening and morning. (Grandma did multiple countings, determined not to lose any grandchicks.) Each time, there were eight. So what a surprise it was when the “parents” arrived home in the afternoon and counted their chickens…and found only 6! The fugitives were eventually spotted scratching in a compost pile in our yard, hidden behind a storage building. I think they have a DVD player hidden in their coop and smuggled in a copy of Chicken Run. (It’s hilarious. Check it out.)
Now that I have a history with my feathered neighbors, I look out the back door often to keep an eye on them. The once-mobile coop, though, is now permanently located about 200’ back in their yard and my view is hindered by a fence and play equipment. I have to look long and hard to catch any cinnamon movement along the ground way out there.
One day as I was squinting in their direction, a red fireball shot across the top of the coop, through the air, and up over the chicken wire pen. It hit the ground running and didn’t stop till it was halfway to the neighbors’ house.
I instinctively cried something like, “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
CW ran up from the basement and joined me at the door. He immediately spotted a hawk flying over. Unlike Henny Penny whose exaggerated fears were unfounded when an acorn fell on her head, our Fraidy Sadie knew full well the danger of chicken-loving hawks.
I wonder, though…Why, when Sadie was standing atop her safe haven, did she “fly the coop”? Why did she ignore the obvious refuge and run into the danger? No, I don’t think she was being a heroine and trying to lead the enemy away to save her coopmates. She was running scared. CW and our neighbor found her up by the house, hunkered down in a window well. They reunited her with the other hens that were all safely huddled together inside their coop.
Don’t we often do the same thing as Sadie? A circumstance comes along that turns our comfortable world upside down, and we run scared. What we seek refuge from is not always physical like a hungry hawk casting its shadow over us. Often the shadows are inside us. It’s fear that something is going to hurt us. It’s deep loneliness after a great loss. It’s anguish over how to handle an impossible situation. It might be a feeling of shame or unworthiness or helplessness or hopelessness because of any number of lamentable things we experience in this sin-ridden world.
In our frenzy, we fly over the fence into addictions, unhealthy habits, isolation, bad counsel, or other destructive choices seeking relief. But we have forgotten—or maybe we never knew—where our real refuge is.
Just as the things we flee from are not physical, our refuge is not a physical place. (Thank goodness it doesn’t involve a nasty chicken coop!) Our refuge is a person: Jesus. “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe” (Proverbs 18:10).
The Old Testament gives us a great physical illustration (in case you need something more spiritual than chickens). The Lord instructed the Israelites through Moses to designate six cities of refuge, spaced so as to be easily accessible to everyone, to which people could flee at any time if they had accidentally killed someone. As long as they stayed within the walls of that city, they would find permanent protection from the avenger of blood, who was usually a relative of the person killed. If they went outside, they lost their protection. (Joshua 20:1-9)
Doesn’t the city of refuge sound a lot like Jesus?
He is always accessible and available to us. “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). “Be my rock of refuge, to which I can always go” (Psalm 71:3).
He protects us. “How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings” (Psalm 36:7). Unlike the ominous shadow cast by the wings of the chicken hawk, this is the picture of a mother hen protecting her young by covering them with her wings.
Jesus is our only true refuge. At best, any protection we seek outside of Jesus will be temporary and imperfect. At worst, it can keep us from finding our real refuge. “5Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. 6He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken” (Psalm 62:5-6).
How, then, do we actually enter this refuge our heart seeks?
Talk to Jesus. When something happens to set off the panic or swirling questions or desperate feelings, follow David’s example: “I cry out to God Most High, to God, who fulfills his purpose for me” (Psalm 57:2). He admonished us to “pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge” (Psalm 62:8). Wherever you are, talk to him. He will listen. And he will speak to you. He will help you to see things more clearly.
Go to Jesus first. Don’t stop off for caffeine or other physical means to bolster your strength. Don’t go by way of well-meaning friends to dump your raw emotion onto. First take your weakness and negative feelings straight to Jesus to process them. He may then direct you to talk with others, for God absolutely works through brothers and sisters in Christ. But don’t mistake them for your refuge. “I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Psalm 4:8)
Run to God’s Word. When you get shaken, it is the truth of Scripture that can steady you. It reminds you that God loves you abundantly and he will not harm you. It reminds you that he has everything under control. It reminds you of his faithfulness and goodness. David remembered God’s goodness. He said, “How great is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you, which you bestow in the sight of men on those who take refuge in you” (Psalm 31:19). The goodness of God’s truth will be your refuge.
Put your trust and hope in Jesus. In the verse above, the Hebrew word for refuge includes elements of hope and trust (Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance). You enter God’s refuge when you trust him and hope in him. “The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him” (Nahum 1:7). “You are my refuge and my shield; I have put my hope in your word” (Psalm 119:114). People and governments cannot provide that refuge. “8It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. 9It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes” (Psalm 118:8-9).
May we not be like poor Sadie who cowered in a window well because she hadn’t recognized the refuge right under her feet. When we make Jesus our refuge, we will be able to join David in saying to the Lord, “But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you” (Psalm 5:11).
Scripture quotations are from NIV.
Hebrew definition is from Bible Hub. See Resources.
Brenda
March 7, 2024That was interesting and fun to read. I do not envy you one bit for any of that chicken-sitting, lol. But what a great illustration and I love this line: “Often the shadows are inside us.” That is so true. It’s a good reminder of who has our back. 🙂
Bonnie
March 7, 2024Thank you, Brenda. I’m glad you enjoyed reading this.
CW has chicken duty the next couple of days. I think I might have to go over and visit with my feathered friends. But in the afternoon–not the morning shift! 🙂
E L i
March 10, 2024I like I t. a n d l o v. e ittt
Bonnie
March 10, 2024I’m so glad you like and love this, Eli! It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that they are your chickens, would it? 🙂