July 12, 2026 - Images of God: Mother Hen

Oh dear, I almost forgot - I wanted to write a letter to my dear people at Highland Ave. Let me get my things out. 

Friends,

Grace and peace to you, beloved church, from God our Mother and Father, and from Jesus Christ, who gathers us beneath sheltering wings.

First, I give thanks for you.

I give thanks for your faithfulness over the years—for those who came before you, the townies and those who came because of the denominational headquarters. I give thanks for the prayers whispered in this sanctuary long before many of us arrived; for casseroles delivered in times of grief, celebration, and all the ordinary days in between; for Love Feasts celebrated; for songs played and sung with talent and grace. I thank God for every act of kindness that has quietly proclaimed the gospel in Elgin.

You, my friends, have endured both joys and losses. You have welcomed new faces and buried dear friends. You have celebrated baptisms and grieved the losses of loved ones and the changes within the church itself. You are living through a transition in what church even means. Through it all, Christ remains faithful.

I was thinking the other day about Jesus' words when he longs to gather Jerusalem like a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wings. You know, I think that is true for you as well. Jesus longs to gather you, to keep you safe, to protect you, and to give those gentle nudges that only a loving mother can.

As you vote today on calling a pastor, I find myself returning to this image of Jesus as a mother hen. Jesus expressed his desire to be this for people, even when the people were not always interested.

I confess that if I were choosing a metaphor for the Son of God, I probably would not have chosen poultry. But Jesus surprises us all the time. I'm not sure Jesus fit our traditional expectations of a pastor most of the time, and yet here he tells us exactly what kind of leader he longs to be.

While they can be mean, Hens aren’t exactly fierce. While Jesus uses this image in contrast to a fox, I cannot imagine a hen actually defeating a fox. She will likely be outrun, outwitted, and she certainly cannot fly away. Hens lack the superhero qualities we sometimes desire in our leaders.

Yet Jesus chooses this image because God is the one who gathers, shelters beneath loving wings, watches over the surroundings, sounds the alarm when danger appears, and refuses to abandon the vulnerable. At first glance, it may seem like an ordinary image, and yet, church, this is who God is.

We may wish for a stronger or fiercer animal to represent God, and there is certainly biblical language that does just that. Yet there is something profoundly beautiful about the fierce tenderness of a mother's love—the one whose embrace becomes the safest place to run when you are afraid. Jesus chose this image because he was always overturning our assumptions about who is in charge. A mother—and especially a mother hen—can change the way we understand who God is.

As you enter this new season with the possibility of a new pastor, and as all of us continue navigating the larger transition taking place within Christianity, I wonder if we are invited to resemble this image of God.

Not because we need another parent figure, and certainly not because we are called to smother people. Rather, because the church is constantly tempted to believe that leadership means power instead of presence.

A mother hen knows that her guidance begins with knowing where everyone is. She notices the quiet chick standing off by itself. She hears the frightened one before anyone else does. She calls the wandering one home. She keeps making room beneath her stretched-out wings.

She cannot make every danger disappear, but she refuses to let fear have the final word.

My friends, you may have a fox in your backyard, but you may also have a fox in your heart.

Maybe you are lonely. Maybe you are anxious. Maybe you are carrying tension within your family. Maybe you've had too many days that should have ended with a hug, but the hug never came. Or perhaps your fox is something entirely different.

To the foxes in our lives, Mother Hen God reminds us where we belong—beneath the wings of a loving God. Love does not erase the fox. Love simply refuses to let the fox define the story.

In this season of your church's life, there are many questions. What will congregational life be like with a settled pastor? What is the future of the wider church? How is God connecting with my everyday life? How many books should I pack for my flight to Colorado? Will my service assignment be fulfilling?

These are good questions.

You may even hope your pastor has all the answers to all the big questions. Be assured, pastors certainly like having answers! At the same time, if we follow Jesus in the way of the Mother Hen, perhaps our calling is not simply to look to one leader for answers. Perhaps together we are called to gather ourselves and others, asking whether lonely people are finding belonging. Asking whether frightened people are discovering courage because they have encountered the love of Christ. Helping one another live into these questions instead of expecting a pastor—who honestly will not have all the answers either—to fulfill them all.

The church needs gatherers.

Some of you gather children. Some gather neighbors. Some create new places to belong. Some gather those with broken hearts.. So many of you have gathered people through music. Some through laughter. Some through quiet listening. Some through faithful commitment to the community. Some through faithful prayers that no one else ever hears.

The church needs people who understand creating security.

People who understand that every fellowship hour, every shared table, every hospital visit, every children's story, every meal delivered to someone in need, every cup of coffee, every difficult conversation that strengthens community—all of these become another pair of open wings. They become places where people discover safety, belonging, and hope.

Together, you become the shelter Christ longs to offer the world.

The day will come when another fox appears. My prayer is that you will continue to be the kind of people and the kind of place where others know they can run and be welcomed, no matter what.

Because it is then, that they will have found Christ among you.

And remember, the Mother Hen does more than shelter. There also comes a time when she gently nudges her chicks out from beneath her wings—encouraging them to be brave, to explore the world, to use the gifts God has given them with compassion and courage, and to keep working until fear no longer has the final word.

May you continue to become the kind of congregation where every frightened soul finds shelter.

May you seek leaders who know how to gather, create community, and offer places of rest.

May you be a people whose wings are wide enough for everyone Christ longs to welcome.

And may you also become the kind of people who gently encourage one another to step into the world with courage, trusting that the God who shelters you also sends you.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.

Sincerely,

A disciple of Jesus