Changed in the Waiting
Like a Hen
December 5, 2024
SCRIPTURE
LUKE 13:31-35
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killer of prophets, abuser of the
messengers of God! How often I’ve longed to gather your
children, gather your children like a hen, her brood safe under
her wings—but you refused and turned away!
—LUKE 13:34 (MSG)
LUKE 13:31-35
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killer of prophets, abuser of the
messengers of God! How often I’ve longed to gather your
children, gather your children like a hen, her brood safe under
her wings—but you refused and turned away!
—LUKE 13:34 (MSG)
We might not be accustomed to thinking of God as lamenting, but Jesus teaches us that God can and does lament. Near the end of his ministry, Jesus picks up a familiar refrain of lament voiced by generations of Israel’s prophets. Hosea, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel are among those who were taught to sing the lament song of God’s own heart:
How long, oh my people?! How long will you run from me when I call you? (see Hosea 11:2).
How long will you deny the severity of your wounds and claim “peace” when there is no peace? (see Jeremiah 8:11).
If only you would let me lead you, if only you would let me care for you as a shepherd cares for the sheep (see Ezekiel 34:11).
If only you would be my people and let me be your God—no longer would there be violence in your land, and I would provide you with everlasting light (see Isaiah 60).
The sad history of Israel is the result of these words falling on deaf ears. The prophets lamented the reality that the people of Israel could not or did not want to see. Instead they preferred the messages of false prophets who promised prosperity and peace—no repentance necessary. It is an unfortunate and deadly trend that has continued to plague the people of God: we silence and kill the very messengers who bring the message we need the most.
That is why Jesus laments. He cries out as a parent in pain, watching beloved children choose destruction. Jesus laments for a people who are so confident they know what is right for themselves that they refuse the embrace of their loving parent. These words of Jesus in today’s scripture are troubling and painful. But woven within this lament of a desire yet to be fulfilled is the beauty of that desire itself.
Mother hens gather their chicks under their wings as a protective measure against threats, using their own bodies to shield their young. This image is full of tenderness, fierceness, and self-sacrificing love—and it’s the best way Jesus knows to describe the longing of his own heart. Jesus reveals that God’s greatest desire is to be like a Good Mother to us, surrounding us with wings of protection, nurture, and love.
This image is such an extravagant picture of love that it can feel hard to believe, even harder to accept. Perhaps that’s why God has been waiting so long, ready to gather us if only we allow it. This is a God who knows what it is like to suffer the pain of waiting. God has waited for all of human history for God’s children to let themselves be loved!
What if God didn’t have to wait anymore? What if we did let Jesus gather us? How would things be if God’s hope were realized, and how do we get there? It seems we would have to start by admitting there is real danger and turmoil surrounding us and that we do, in fact, need the protective shelter God offers us. It would require coming to God with our honesty—our hopes, fears, needs, longings, laments, and all—instead of trying to pretend that we're doing fine all on our own. We would have to commit to stop stiff-arming the One who loves us and learn how to surrender. In short, I think it looks like giving God room and time to show us what God’s love feels like.
If God were to really get the desires of God’s own heart, it would not be an individual experience. As we allow ourselves to be gathered, we join a whole host of others being gathered up too. We would be all squished up together in the group hug of God’s heart, where we find ourselves part of a much larger family than we ever could have imagined! Then the rest of our lives could be lived from this place of belonging, security, and love.
According to Jesus, God’s hope is that we know how dearly loved we are and that we let that love change everything. And our hope is found in this God whose love is greater than we can comprehend, whose love does indeed change everything. Thanks be to God.
How long, oh my people?! How long will you run from me when I call you? (see Hosea 11:2).
How long will you deny the severity of your wounds and claim “peace” when there is no peace? (see Jeremiah 8:11).
If only you would let me lead you, if only you would let me care for you as a shepherd cares for the sheep (see Ezekiel 34:11).
If only you would be my people and let me be your God—no longer would there be violence in your land, and I would provide you with everlasting light (see Isaiah 60).
The sad history of Israel is the result of these words falling on deaf ears. The prophets lamented the reality that the people of Israel could not or did not want to see. Instead they preferred the messages of false prophets who promised prosperity and peace—no repentance necessary. It is an unfortunate and deadly trend that has continued to plague the people of God: we silence and kill the very messengers who bring the message we need the most.
That is why Jesus laments. He cries out as a parent in pain, watching beloved children choose destruction. Jesus laments for a people who are so confident they know what is right for themselves that they refuse the embrace of their loving parent. These words of Jesus in today’s scripture are troubling and painful. But woven within this lament of a desire yet to be fulfilled is the beauty of that desire itself.
Mother hens gather their chicks under their wings as a protective measure against threats, using their own bodies to shield their young. This image is full of tenderness, fierceness, and self-sacrificing love—and it’s the best way Jesus knows to describe the longing of his own heart. Jesus reveals that God’s greatest desire is to be like a Good Mother to us, surrounding us with wings of protection, nurture, and love.
This image is such an extravagant picture of love that it can feel hard to believe, even harder to accept. Perhaps that’s why God has been waiting so long, ready to gather us if only we allow it. This is a God who knows what it is like to suffer the pain of waiting. God has waited for all of human history for God’s children to let themselves be loved!
What if God didn’t have to wait anymore? What if we did let Jesus gather us? How would things be if God’s hope were realized, and how do we get there? It seems we would have to start by admitting there is real danger and turmoil surrounding us and that we do, in fact, need the protective shelter God offers us. It would require coming to God with our honesty—our hopes, fears, needs, longings, laments, and all—instead of trying to pretend that we're doing fine all on our own. We would have to commit to stop stiff-arming the One who loves us and learn how to surrender. In short, I think it looks like giving God room and time to show us what God’s love feels like.
If God were to really get the desires of God’s own heart, it would not be an individual experience. As we allow ourselves to be gathered, we join a whole host of others being gathered up too. We would be all squished up together in the group hug of God’s heart, where we find ourselves part of a much larger family than we ever could have imagined! Then the rest of our lives could be lived from this place of belonging, security, and love.
According to Jesus, God’s hope is that we know how dearly loved we are and that we let that love change everything. And our hope is found in this God whose love is greater than we can comprehend, whose love does indeed change everything. Thanks be to God.
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION, DISCUSSION, AND PRAYER
What stirs in you as you think of God waiting, hoping, and lamenting?
What places can you identify within yourself that resist being gathered under God’s wings?
How do you want to respond to Jesus’s lament?
What stirs in you as you think of God waiting, hoping, and lamenting?
What places can you identify within yourself that resist being gathered under God’s wings?
How do you want to respond to Jesus’s lament?