A Lesson in an Unlikely Place

Sometimes wisdom shows up where you least expect it.

For me, it showed up in the form of a trespassing rooster.

A few days ago, a rooster somehow found his way into our backyard. We still have no idea where he came from or why he decided our yard was the place to be, but there he was.

Later that evening, around six o’clock, my husband went back outside and found the rooster standing in the corner of our fence.

Not moving.

Not reacting.

Just standing there.

The rooster looked so lifeless that my husband assumed the worst. Convinced the bird had reached the end of its earthly journey, he conducted what I can only describe as a highly questionable wellness check by tossing a stick in its direction.

The rooster’s response was immediate.

He wasn’t dead.

Not even close.

The stick landed, and suddenly this bird that had appeared completely defeated sprang to life. Feathers flew. Wings flapped. Panic ensued.

The rooster scared my husband.

My husband scared the rooster.

And what happened next was the part that stayed with me.

The rooster took off running across the yard, headed straight for the fence, and then did something I had completely forgotten roosters could do.

He flew.

Not gracefully.

Not elegantly.

But effectively.

He cleared the fence and disappeared onto the side from which he had come.

One moment he looked finished.

The next moment he remembered he could fly.

I’ve thought about that rooster more than I probably should.

Because the truth is, many of us spend seasons of our lives standing in corners.

Not because we’re incapable.

Not because we’re defeated.

Not because God is finished with us.

We’re just scared.

Life has a way of backing us into places we never intended to be. Disappointment, grief, uncertainty, rejection, burnout, church hurt, broken relationships, unexpected diagnoses, career setbacks—any one of them can leave us frozen.

At first, we stop to catch our breath.

Then we stop because we’re uncertain.

Then we stop because we’ve forgotten how to move.

Eventually, standing still starts to feel normal.

The corner becomes familiar.

Safe, even.

And that’s where the danger lies.

Because surviving isn’t the same thing as living.

Sometimes what we need is a proverbial stick.

Not because God is angry.

Not because He’s punishing us.

But because He’s reminding us that we still have life in us.

A closed door.

A new opportunity.

A hard conversation.

A challenge we didn’t ask for.

A calling we can no longer ignore.

The very thing we resist may be the thing that wakes us up.

The thing that reminds us we can still move.

Still run.

Still fly.

I’ve learned that God often does His teaching in unexpected places.

A mountain view.

A conversation with a friend.

A season of grief.

Or apparently, a rooster hiding in the corner of a backyard fence.

The lesson?

Sometimes we aren’t as stuck as we think we are.

Sometimes we’ve simply forgotten who we are.

And sometimes the disruption we’ve been praying would go away is actually the thing God is using to remind us that we still have wings.

A lesson in an unlikely place.

Courtesy of a rooster who looked finished until he remembered he could fly.