The Zombies Are Here. Seriously.

I don't like zombies.  There's something about the undead that doesn't set well with me.  Never has. Maybe it was too much exposure to rotting flesh when I was a kid.  If you've been around hunting/fishing/farming/road kill or dead mice, you know what I mean. Whether in literature, culture or costume they just  bother me.

I have tolerated a bit.  Some of the family likes Walking Dead. I managed an episode or two before grossing out.  One adult child participated in a zombie walk . .  in full costume.  I had to admit the costume was creative, albeit creepy.

It recently hit me why.

We are all zombies.

Yeah, I know that's ridiculous.  After all we're all alive, functional, and civilized.  Most of the time anyway.

But really, we ARE all zombies.  We're born that way.

You see, in God's eyes, the sin we are born into and give no thought to every day is every bit as filthy, disgusting and sickening as the rot and decay in the stories. Scripture calls it being dead in trespasses and sins. We are all prone to pride, unbelief, envy, hatred, lust, etc., and while we think we've got it handled with these polite masks of propriety, God sees our hearts as the nasty spiritual filth it really is.  And he doesn't allow it into His home (heaven) just like none of us would bring a rotting corpse into our homes.

I'm thankful for my Savior today.  His sacrifice made it possible for this dead person to live.  Pretty miraculous stuff - making a dead person live -  but that's Who He is.  That's what He delights to do.  It's why we need Him.

Red

But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated,  full of mercy and good fruits, without variance, without hypocrisy.
 James 3:17

Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful. Luke 6:36

I'm out of chicken food. I'll get more later this morning.

But I did have some grain that had weavels in it so I took it out to the chickens first thing this morning. It was the first time I sat on the back steps to feed the chickens and I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I wanted to give the laying hens and the momma and chicks priority. That's why I poured it in piles around my feed and sat there. The hens and chicks are used to that.

Some curious and hungry roosters did come along wanting to eat. I'm ok with that as as long as they behave themselves. Smut is one of our two pretty roosters. I call him that because of the dark colored neck and plume feathers. In between is every color of the rainbow. I try to take care of him as his brother, Red, continually runs him away from food. All food, all the time.

The mama hen and the babies found a pile of cornmeal close that they were happily working on. Smut got brave enough to get close to me . . . and promptly started bullying the little ones to get out of his way! Not on my watch Dude! He met each transgression with a small rock. I don't know if he got the idea or not but he did give up as he didn't care for the rocks.

We were about half way through the grain when Red discovered what was going on. Red is the big boss of all the chickens. He probably has every shade of orange known to man on him with an awesome blue/black plume. I watched with amusement as he surveyed the situation with great dignity, and cautiously approached center where momma and the babies were feasting on cornmeal. I had a rock ready for him.

And I didn't have to use it. That big powerful bird stayed at the outskirts of the cornmeal pile and gently ate alongside the little ones as though he were one of them.

I sat there in complete amazement. Red rules the yard and the coop. He keeps the other roosters in check. So it amazed me that rather than bully the small ones away from food like all the other chickens he deferred to them when he hadn't had breakfast himself.

When the food got low and I knew momma and the chicks had ate plenty I went back inside. After getting a cup of coffee I looked out to see the same pattern – momma and the chicks were safely eating beside him center stage with all the other chickens leaving them alone.

Momma told me that Red was being what a father is supposed to be to his family – a sacrificial protector. To quote one of my kids, it warmed the cockles of my heart. I guess God knew which rooster needed to be #1 in our yard. And I think I'll throw him and extra handful from now on.