​God’s hears our voices when we cry – – – but do we listen for His? I have some barnyard beauties who show me what that ought to look like.

Down in the chicken fortress are my chicken girls, some of whom I inherited from a lovely neighbor, some of which I raised from chicks.

Now, chickens are not widely regarded for their intelligence or interpersonal skills. Unlike typical dogs or cats, chickens would just as soon run away from you than be petted. If you happen to like chickens, it’s probably for their eggs or looks, not so much for their personalities.

However, a barnyard trend has me tickled pink. My hens will be scattered all around the coop, pecking for bugs or searching for treats, when I will take a moment to look for them. “Here chicken girls! Here chicken girls!” I call, my human girls laughing their heads off at me.

When I call, you know what happens? My chicken girls come running.  Their plump little bodies a-waddle, they practically gallop in my direction. Though I’m sure it sounds weird, I have to say that the sight evokes laughter and joy from my heart.

I love it when I call and my chickens come to my voice.They all stand in a little line, looking at me.

I believe Jesus feels the same way about us. “My sheep hear my voice. I know them and they follow Me,” Jesus said in John 10:27 (italics added). I can only imagine the joy that it brings Jesus’ heart when, hearing His voice, we come running to follow Him.

I’m afraid that the majority of this world, and maybe even a lot of Christians, are a lot like normal chickens. They go about their business, doing whatever they do, without being very mindful of Who provides for them, Who takes care of them, Who delights in them. Chickens peck and cluck and dust-bathe and do chicken things; people work and shop and eat and do people things. Chickens and people alike are pre-occupied with whatever it is they do.

All along, Jesus is calling us to come to Him. It is not a given that people come to His call any more than it is a given for chickens to come.

And yet, I know the joy of seeing a plump little hen come enthusiastically running to me. I want to give Jesus that same attention, enthusiasm and joy.

I know His voice, yes I do.

So, when He calls me, I will come to Him, running with all my might as surely as my chicken girls down in the barnyard.

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