Mr. King

He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. ~Isaiah 53:3-5

 My friend had a young rooster that the older hens in her flock didn't accept. As a matter of fact, they were horribly mean to the young man. They pecked at him and plucked out his feathers. Her children called him Mr. King. I never asked why. He was very gentle, unlike most roosters who want to fight all the time. His head was completely bald. I, being unfamiliar with the Silky breed, thought his gray comb was some kind of growth on his head. My hens weren't too keen on his presence in our flock either but I kept watching. The hens didn't allow him to eat or drink with them. So I put his feed on top of his transport cage and placed him on top. Some of the feed was nice greens from the garden. Pretty soon the hens decided they wanted those greens too. They flew up to feed with him. In a few days, he began to crow, a very weak scratchy crow. His feathers began to grow back and a few grew straight up behind his comb like a crown. He scratched in the chicken run and clucked to the hens to come see what he found. The hens ignored him. 

One day he grabbed a large piece of greens from the yard and clucked loudly while the hens were gathered around the feed bucket. The youngest of the hens went to him and took the piece from his beak. I was so excited that he was finally recognized as the king, the provider, the one who wanted to watch over the flock. 

The whole episode of Mr. King made me think of how Jesus was so mistreated by his people. They were dismissive. They questioned who this teacher from Galilee was. They heard him preach but most went their own way. Finally, they cried out to crucify him. His beard was plucked from his face. His back was in ribbons from the beatings. He didn't look anything like the king they wanted him to be. No crown upon his head, his cloak the prize of a gambling game. Oh, but Sunday came and he arose, King of kings and Lord of lords. He sits now at the right hand of the Father expecting to return in the Father's timing.

My rooster, Mr. King, is still very gentle and allows me to pick him up. He scratches and clucks to his hens and happily stands guard over my small flock. He crows at the break of day and the rest of the day too. Feathers are still growing back in but he's now a healthy and happy king. 

Jesus's church, though scattered by persecution throughout the ages, still stands and calls to all who will listen. He feeds us with the Word of his mouth. He watches over us to provide and protect us. He loves doing his job if we will only allow him.

Heavenly Father, thank you for sending your son who though mistreated and crucified arose from the grave as King of kings to call us and redeem us, to protect us, and provide for us if we will only listen. In Jesus's name. Amen