Listen for the Sounds of Hope

LISTEN!

In our temporary home on, what for us, is the other side of the world, Kathy and I generally awake to the sound of roosters. You'll note that is plural. I'm not talking about one proud male welcoming the sun, or arrogantly assuming that it rises at his command. No, I'm guessing there are well over a hundred of the birds next door. Not only do we awake to their announcement, "Cock-a-doodle-I'm-cock-of-the-roost . . . the-baddest-chicken-in-this-yard!" cries, but often we go to bed to it, and for reasons, yet hidden from me in chicken psychology, all during the day there are periods of intense racket. Using human logic, I figure one of the guys, who lost his cellphone and therefore doesn't know it's the middle of the day, let's out with a crow, which then demands a response from a neighbor, and so the auditory cascade begins. I don't speak Chicken, so I really don't what they are saying, but I can provide some context. Each bird is caged, or tied to a tether, so he cannot reach his neighbors. Everyone of them live with only a few desires: They want to eat. Their owner gives them what they need. He wants them to be strong for what is ahead. They desperately want to get with a hen. As far as I know that desire is frustrated in order to sharpen their lust for the one other thing they want. Each of those birds has a marble-sized brain filled with an all-consuming desire to kill every other rooster on the place. When we look at what is ahead, we know that they will have their opportunity. The chickens next door aren't being kept for eggs (I do know that roosters don't lay eggs), nor are they being raised to eat. The fowl next door are gladiators. They will die in fights arranged for the amusement of those who watch. Another striking feature of my temporary home is the near total absence of birds other than chickens. I've told you in the past about the Brown Tree Snake. It should not be here. The progenitors of the pests who eat every bird and egg they can swallow were brought here by another group with death on their minds. Apparently, a couple of snakes hitched a ride with the military during World War 2. In this cacophonous environment, marked by the by-products of death, a world where the beautiful is consumed by the ugly, and where those bent on death announce their intentions as loudly as possible, is there any hope? Most mornings I hear the soft call of a dove. Exactly how this gentlest of birds has avoided the predation of the serpent invader, I don't know. It's soft "coo" gives me hope. That, and for the past several days I hear the sounds of hammers, saws, and grinders. A short-term missions team is here doing some projects on our little campus. Pacific Islands Universityexists to push back against the darkness. We believe that if we send out women and men who see this sin-cursed, death-infected world through a Biblical lens, that they will be agents of change. They are part of that army who knows that the battle is not won by those who crow loudest, nor by those with the most agents of death on their side. Our message is one of peace in the midst of conflict, life in the face of death, light that overcomes darkness, and hope. Hope. HOPE. It's a message and a cause that is worth our best effort. It's STTA. I think if you read the first 10 verses of Ephesians 2, you'll see that my temporary home is not all that different from the place we all live, planet earth. Find out about how the Son of God redeems our past, gives purpose in the present, and hope for the future, here. One more thing: Got any good recipes for chicken stew?