They were the meanest critters in my childhood, and to think they once were adorable little Easter chicks. I know some of you may be upset with my using the word “Easter,” but “Resurrection chicks” just doesn’t sound right, especially since the destiny of those two scrappy birds was the frying pan, not glory.

After my beloved Poppy died, my grandmother, mother and I lived in a basement apartment which only had a back entrance to it. A fence surrounded the yard and anyone who came to our home had to go through the gate and then have to face those feisty roosters which had free reign on our property. Those roosters pecks were like ice pick jabs on baby skin, so a large broom was left outside to fend off their attacks. It was only a miracle that we had any visitors at all and that the milk man and the ice man kept coming. Yes, ice man! It’s still hard to believe refrigeration in those days was huge blocks of ice. I’m not sure if it was because of the ice man or the milk man threatening no more deliveries that those two birds saw the end of their days. On the night of their demise, I was told we were eating “rabbit” for dinner, not “rooster lickins.” Sigh! I never knew it until too late.

I believe that everything that happens in our lives contains spiritual nuggets of revelation for us, so here I come now with bird seed thoughts about roosters and more. I’ve been told that I was for the birds before, so what can I say? My late husband called me his “little chickadee,” my last name means “pigeon-hawk,” and God says I’m His “dove,” so if you think of me as a Dodo bird or an old buzzard, I can bear up under it.

Now don’t get insulted, but I liken chicks to what some of us are in the beginning of our walk with Jesus. Sometimes a guy will refer to his girl friend as his chick, and it might be said that we are the Lord’s chicks when we are born of the spirit. We’re cared for and fed by Him and do a lot of chirping with delight then in that early stage. As we grow, we come to know mysteries and cover others with the wings of love and wisdom that our “Spirit Man” gives us. Female chicks eventually become mother hens, but only if they have a rooster to help them out. Likewise, the nurturing ones in the body of Christ become mothers of Israel, like Deborah, when the Lord is their helper.

It’s not a good thing if there are two roosters with no cute chicks as their own. While they can fulfill their duty of sounding the alarm at the crack of dawn with their “cock a doodle do”’s, if there are no hens in the hen house, they’re not good for much else. Roosters, you and I need love, and when there’s none, there’s trouble.That’s when ya gotta’ get out the broom!

God said it was not good for man to be alone, so out came Eve from a side chamber in Adam’s being. My family didn’t know God or his ways, so those poor roosters were not going to get what was good for them. Guess what? If we don’t get what’s good for us, we become like cranky old birds, even mean spirited ones like my roosters. And when we’re mean, we’ll attack the ones who bring the milk of the word and the ones that can help us cool down and preserve what we need… even a good disposition.

If we’re proud like cocky roosters trying to be king of the roost and aggressively attacking others, we most definitely will not get into the kingdom of God. We’ll be getting the broom to clean our dirty houses. We gotta’ realize that if those roosters of mine weren’t all about making trouble pecking at people and at anything else that moved, they might have had a good end. Thankfully, God is not making us chicks into banty roosters… He’s got mother hens in mind who’ll be laying golden eggs… even divine revelations.

Then, there’ll be something to crow about!