Here is my sermon from Sunday. The text was 2 Corinthians 9:6-15:
The last church we served in Massachusett several acre plots
interspersed with still operating farms.
For my fellow sports fans, it was were Babe Ruth lived when he was with
the Red Sox, and it is also where Shaquille O’Neill lived when he played for
the Celtics. But ever since Martha
Stewart began touting the idea of owning your own chickens, lots of former city
dwellers have tried to take on the role of gentlemen, or gentlewomen, chicken farmers.
One of those former Bostonians decided he needed to own some
chickens for his property and so went to see one of the local farmers. The farmer told the man he should start small
with only a few chickens, but the man was insistent that he needed 100
chicks. Knowing the mistakes that would
be made but wanting to be neighborly in order to avoid future arguments, the
farmer said, “You know, chicken farming isn’t easy, but to help you get
started, I’ll give you 100 chicks."
The man was thrilled. Two weeks later the farmer dropped by
to see how things were going, and the man said, "Not too well. All 100
chicks died." The farmer said, "Oh, I can’t believe that. I’ve never
had any trouble with my chickens. I’ll give you 100 more." Another two
weeks went by and the farmer stopped by again. The man said, "You’re not
going to believe this, but the second 100 chickens died too." Astounded,
the farmer asked, "What went wrong?"
The new farmer said, "Well, I’m not sure whether I’m
planting them too deep or too close together."
