“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”  James 1:2-4; Roman 8:28

One of the responsibilities of chicken farmers is to dust chickens for mites, itty bitty nuisances that can cause health problems for the chickens and, therefore, reduce egg production. This was our job this morning. When we address this issue we have to capture the chickens one at a time, an event they protest against vehemently. It often requires chasing the hen around the run, cornering it, sometimes pulling several tail feathers out in the process, wood chippings flying, slaughter house shrieks (often from me). At other times, it requires us (and I mean Will) to crawl under the coop through . . . well, use your imagination. The escapees hide in dark corners and nesting boxes. They run screaming, “No, you’re big and scary! Leave me alone!”

Once we (and I mean Will) catch a chicken, we sooth her with petting and kind words, offering her our sympathy. . . then we flip her over and violate her modesty. Will searches through all the feathers to find her vent, which is the technical word for her private part, because that’s where most of the mites like to live. I warn you, chickens resist this procedure. I can’t say I blame them. They crane their necks up and glare at us as if to say, “I beg your pardon!” Will then works a dusting powder into the feathers, moving upwards to the neck. As soon as he is done dusting each hen, he gently picks her up, flips her over and releases her to carry on with her day. She shakes herself soundly and huffs away.

We do this for their good, so why do they oppose it, for Pete’s sake? They’re so ungrateful! We care about them! We want them to be healthy! Don’t they get it?!

Hmmm. It’s highly possible God experiences the same frustration with me. After all, He wants my best. He works for my good. He loves me. And yet every time He brings a strengthening moment or a it’s-for-your-good situation or a I’m watching-out-for-you event, I crane my spiritual neck and glare at God as if He were out to do me harm.

I’m sorry, God. I’m a bit of a feather-brain sometimes.

Conie