By allowing ads to appear on this site, you support the local businesses who, in turn, support great journalism.
I dont wanna be a lamb, I wanna be a chicken
Placeholder Image
When I was 3 years old, the church where my father was pastor was preparing for its annual Christmas musical. Since Dad was the pastor and Mom worked with the music, they usually let me stay in the worship center while they rehearsed. The children’s choir practiced a song about a little lamb at the manger. Although the other boys and girls were in elementary school, they had me, the 3-year-old preacher’s kid, stand with them and sing.
 
After the song, everybody took a break. But I marched up to center stage, and proudly proclaimed, “I don’t wanna be a lamb. I wanna be a chicken!”
 
I have heard my parents tell that story all of my life. Nobody knows why I said that. Maybe a dormant tendency to cheer for the South Carolina Gamecocks lay within my soul. I don’t know. But it reminds me of an important truth.
 
We can make many choices in life, but we cannot choose who we are. Our nationality, our family, the color of our skin, our native language, are things that simply are. We don’t choose those things. I may want to be a chicken, but I’ll always be a human.
 
God, however, chose to become human. He chose to take on flesh and become one of us, being born of a virgin in a stable. John 1:14 put it this way: “The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us.”
 
The Bible uses many words to describe who Jesus was when He came to earth. The angel quoted the Old Testament, saying He was Immanuel, which means “God with us” (Isaiah 7:14; Matthew 1:23). John the Baptist called Him the “Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). Jesus knew what John’s words meant. A lamb was used by Jews as a sacrifice for sins. Jesus knew that one day He would be nailed to a cruel cross as a righteous payment for the sins of mankind.
 
Jesus courageously accepted this choice, painful as it was, because He loved us that much. Jesus was saying, “I don’t wanna be a chicken. I wanna be a Lamb.” 
 
(Copyright 2010 by Bob Rogers. Email: brogers@fbcrincon.com. Read this column each Friday for a mix of religion and humor. For more “Holy Humor,” visit the Web site of First Baptist Church of Rincon at www.fbcrincon.com.)

Is there a church for a big woman with an itch?
Placeholder Image

A pastor was called to be guest preacher at a church. He knew this church was different when the congregation ended every line of the hymn with the shout of “yeehah!”


As he stood to preach, he noticed that people were spread out on the pews. He would see a person, then a space, then another person, and another space. He wondered why nobody sat next to another person, when he noticed on the pew beside each person was a cowboy hat.


Another time this same preacher was invited to a new church in the city. He was surprised to see that everybody there looked like they had fallen face first into a tackle box, because they had piercings and earrings on every part of the body imaginable. A rock band was playing alternative music on the stage.


As different as these two churches were, they were both growing and reaching people for Christ.


Years ago I was pastor of a small country church in the backwoods of Mississippi. There was another Baptist church just five miles away in the town (population 600). The pastor’s wife at the town church asked me, “Why don’t our two churches merge?” I said, “There are people in my church who would not feel comfortable or fit in at your town church.” She said, “Oh, come on. We’re a small town church. What could be so different?”


I said, “Well, I got one really big woman in my church who, when she gets to feeling an itch, she pulls her dress halfway up and she scratches herself.”


The eyes of this pastor’s wife got really big and she said, “I see what you mean.”


I forgot to tell her about another woman in my church who saw a roach running across the wood floor, so she stomped on it with her bare foot, laughed and shouted, “Aha! I got him!”


Yep, the culture was definitely different where I was pastor.


Jesus upset the religious establishment because He crossed cultural barriers. He loved to eat with tax collectors and Gentiles and other strange people. Jesus walked into the land of Samaria, full of half-breed Jews who worshiped in weird ways and talked different and smelled different.


Jesus walked right up to a Samaritan woman at a well and started talking her language. He accepted her culture, but he let her know her sinful lifestyle had to change. Soon she had the whole town following Jesus (see John 4).


So what cultural barrier is keeping somebody in your community from hearing the gospel? If you tear down the cultural barriers to share Christ in your neighborhood, you may hear the angels shouting, “Yeehah!”


Copyright 2014 by Bob Rogers. Email: brogers@fbcrincon.com. Read this column each Friday in the Herald. Visit my blog at www.bobrogers.me.