“For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person–though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die– but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:6-8 ESV
I sat riveted in my chair. My eyes were on my aunt, who was teaching the Sunday School lesson from a picture book held as high as possible for a 4’10” Sunday School teacher. She spoke loud and clear; her East Texas twang seasoned with a Dallas drawl was familiar to us all.
She turned the brightly colored pages that moved the story forward and carried me along.
It was a tale of a little red hen who lived on a farm near a prairie. I wasn’t sure what a prairie was, but at four years old, I knew all about farms, because I had visited my grandparents’ farm numerous times. I was young enough to believe that farm life was wonderfully enchanting, so this story had me spellbound.
What made the story even better was that the little red hen was mama to a darling brood of little chicks. But the story soon took a dark turn. With the turn of a page, it was clear the farm, the little red hen, and her sweet babies were all in danger. A prairie fire was making its way towards the farm.
The farmer was on his tractor, trying to plow a wide enough clearing around his farm to act as a fire break. But even in the picture, it looked hopeless. We were all now sitting on the edge of our seats, waiting for the page to be turned.
The little red hen was gathering her chicks, frantically trying to protect them, but one was missing. She called out, but there was no response from the lost chick.
The fire was quickly approaching. She found a spot near the barn’s shelter and gathered her frightened chicks under her wings, protecting them with her body. The little chick that had wandered too far away and didn’t return when his mama called for him never made it to the barn.
Tears were welling up in my eyes before the page turned. I was afraid of what I would see. The page turned. The farmer stood over the scorched body of the little red hen. His foot lifted the hen’s burnt wing, and all the little of the chicks were scrambling to get out.
The tears were overflowing at this point. The teacher turned the page. And there was a picture of Jesus, sitting on a rock high on a hill. He had a sad look on His face as he looked down at the sprawling city of Jerusalem that lay stretched out in front of Him.
The teacher said that when Jesus looked at the city and the people that He dearly loved, He was sad because He wanted to gather all the people under His protection. He had come to earth to be their Savior, but like the little chick that had run away, most people do the same thing. Instead of running to Him for safety and salvation, they run away. They choose things that can’t save them.
Then she told us that, like the little red hen who gave her life to protect her chicks, Jesus loved us so much that He died to save us. He gave His life so that we could be saved.
It was a lot for a four-year-old to process. But I did. Not fully, of course. But I understood that Jesus loved us – He loved me – enough to die for us. I was overwhelmed, and the tears wouldn’t stop. I was still crying when my momma picked me up from Sunday School to go to the service. She wiped away the tears as she consoled me. She told me that Jesus died for me, but that He came back to life and lives in Heaven with His Father. She said that one day He will come back for everyone who has given their heart to Him.
Over sixty years ago, I can still remember that large classroom with the big blue flannelgraph board where the Bible stories were usually acted out by paper characters moving across the board with the teacher’s help. I remember the adult-size folding metal chairs that we sat in. It was a multipurpose room with none of the cute childish decorations our kids today enjoy. But important, life-shaping and eternity-changing lessons were learned in that room.
I remember the Bible stories and so many of the lessons wrapped in the child-sized parables we were taught.
Later that year, I gave my four-year-old heart to Jesus. I didn’t understand everything. But I understood that Jesus loved me, even though I didn’t deserve His love. I believed He died for me. And I knew that I wanted Him to be my Savior. I trusted that He would protect me, and I would be forever safe under His wings.
As I was reading about Jesus’s week leading up to His crucifixion, I was reminded once again of “The Little Red Hen” and how her loving sacrifice saved her darling chicks, and how that little story pointed me to Jesus and His love.
And once again, I am overwhelmed to know that on an immeasurably grander scale, the God of all Creation came to earth to sacrifice Himself so that you and I could find eternal shelter in Him — under His mighty wings.
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Luke 13:34 ESV
“And when He [Jesus] drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! “Luke 19:41-42a ESV