I won't need to embellish this picture too much. Julie and I decided that it was time to part company with our chickens. After two and a half years, their egg production had slowed considerably. We have always known that the day of their departure would eventually come - and that day was today.
One thing we hadn't taught our chickens, however, was the ability to follow voice commands. As a result, they had to be corralled into a cage for transport to the Amish chicken man. Julie had it all worked out: "I'll stand here with the open cage. If you walk behind them, they will simply run right into the cage."
And you thought we were city people . . .
One thing we hadn't taught our chickens, however, was the ability to follow voice commands. As a result, they had to be corralled into a cage for transport to the Amish chicken man. Julie had it all worked out: "I'll stand here with the open cage. If you walk behind them, they will simply run right into the cage."
And you thought we were city people . . .
The fact that I'm writing this blog tonight means that the chickens have been successfully delivered to Ossineke. But everything that happened between the beginning and the end of that story is the stuff of legends. Let's just say that I'm glad that no one was watching us with a video camera. I assure you that we could have been the stars of social media. When something explodes on the internet, it is said to have "gone viral." We were a virus waiting to happen.
All the same, we caught on quickly. Before too long, the count of chickens in the cage was growing. Not surprisingly, the chickens were fairly agitated, unaccustomed to this kind of rough treatment.
And here's the image that will always stick in my mind: Julie calming the chickens with soothing words - knowing full well the fate that awaits them tomorrow morning. "It's okay," she soothed the chickens. "It will be okay. Everything's fine."
Everything is fine? Not quite . . . though I suppose it was better to speak a word of comfort (even to a chicken) than to tell the truth in this case.
It made me think of a passage from Jeremiah. (Yeah, no kidding. I think of Bible verses even when we're rounding up our chickens for slaughter.)
All the same, we caught on quickly. Before too long, the count of chickens in the cage was growing. Not surprisingly, the chickens were fairly agitated, unaccustomed to this kind of rough treatment.
And here's the image that will always stick in my mind: Julie calming the chickens with soothing words - knowing full well the fate that awaits them tomorrow morning. "It's okay," she soothed the chickens. "It will be okay. Everything's fine."
Everything is fine? Not quite . . . though I suppose it was better to speak a word of comfort (even to a chicken) than to tell the truth in this case.
It made me think of a passage from Jeremiah. (Yeah, no kidding. I think of Bible verses even when we're rounding up our chickens for slaughter.)
They dress the wound of my people
as though it were not serious.
"Peace, peace," they say,
when there is no peace.
Jeremiah 8:11
as though it were not serious.
"Peace, peace," they say,
when there is no peace.
Jeremiah 8:11
Evidently, some prophets were giving assurance that everything was fine. And as good as it is to be encouraging, God made it clear that telling the truth was more appropriate. Pointing to peace when there is no peace is nothing but a lie.
I think there's a broader application from Jeremiah 8:11. Most of us are hardwired to speak words of hope and comfort. When a friend shares a heartache, we almost automatically - and quite sincerely - say, "It will be okay. Everything will be fine." We are genuinely expressing our hope and our wish. But - at least in the short term - those are words that we can't guarantee. It's like telling our chickens that everything will be fine . . . just before they go to the chicken man.
So what does all this mean? Simply this: every word that we speak should be a word of encouragement; all the same, we need to tell the truth. Sometimes, confrontation is called for. Sometimes, there is a need for correction. Sometimes, direct counsel is required. And as we strive to speak the truth - even when the truth is hard - that truth must always be seasoned by love.
I'm not suggesting that Julie should have told our chickens the truth.
Still, hearing her speak those soothing words made me think about how we navigate the challenging relationships that fill our lives. Some of us feel that we have the right to say anything to anybody. Some of us never say anything at all. The better choice is to tell the truth always - and always to tell the truth in love.
And that's harder than it sounds. It's hard to do that with chickens. And it's really, really hard to do that with people.
I think there's a broader application from Jeremiah 8:11. Most of us are hardwired to speak words of hope and comfort. When a friend shares a heartache, we almost automatically - and quite sincerely - say, "It will be okay. Everything will be fine." We are genuinely expressing our hope and our wish. But - at least in the short term - those are words that we can't guarantee. It's like telling our chickens that everything will be fine . . . just before they go to the chicken man.
So what does all this mean? Simply this: every word that we speak should be a word of encouragement; all the same, we need to tell the truth. Sometimes, confrontation is called for. Sometimes, there is a need for correction. Sometimes, direct counsel is required. And as we strive to speak the truth - even when the truth is hard - that truth must always be seasoned by love.
I'm not suggesting that Julie should have told our chickens the truth.
Still, hearing her speak those soothing words made me think about how we navigate the challenging relationships that fill our lives. Some of us feel that we have the right to say anything to anybody. Some of us never say anything at all. The better choice is to tell the truth always - and always to tell the truth in love.
And that's harder than it sounds. It's hard to do that with chickens. And it's really, really hard to do that with people.