Caged In

Just as I expected, the rooster exhibit at the local county fair was the noisiest place on the grounds. Well, maybe second noisiest after the carnival rides at their busiest. I can’t blame them. When you’re used to strutting all over the barnyard, it’s total indignity to be confined to a cage next to other roosters bent on out-crowing you.


I snapped a photo because I was immediately reminded of times in my life when I felt confined by negative circumstances and probably "crowed" too loud about it. I’ve learned that accepting hardship is part of how I mature as a Christian and am shaped into readiness for my future home in Heaven. And it’s more than passive “acceptance.” It’s grabbing hold of those negatives and making positives of them.

Probably no Bible character illustrates that better for me than the apostle Paul, especially in his letter to the Philippians, written while he imprisoned in Rome (Acts 28:16-31). This was a hard thing for a “controller” who liked his space. Yet instead of saying, “I hate being stuck here by these stinky circumstances,” Paul said, “What has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel” (Philippians 1:12). He was praising God for his “captive audience”—the Roman soldiers chained to him who couldn’t escape hearing his testimony. He was praising God that his witness emboldened other believers. He was thankful that God was using his negative circumstances to bring glory to Christ.

Peel back another layer of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, told in Acts 16, and there’s a even more amazing story. Paul had just been trudging through Asia, preaching about Jesus, when he had a vision to “come over to Macedonia,” meaning a whole linguistic and cultural jump. He and his companion Silas ended up in Philippi, a leading city in that area, and after getting their land legs, decided to worship somewhere, as it was the Sabbath. Philippi didn’t have enough Jewish men to form a synagogue, so they ended up down at the river with some women who met for prayer. Paul wasn’t “caged in” by expectations of what a church should be. If that was God’s place for him to start, he’d start. He didn’t say, “I don’t know anybody” or “What if they reject me?” He chatted with Lydia, a seller of luxury purple cloth, and led her to Christ.

Soon after came opposition. Paul cast an annoying evil spirit out of a slave girl, ending her fortune-telling business for her owners. He and Silas were seized by a mob, then taken by local police who stripped, beat and flogged them, then put them in stocks in prison. They didn’t sit in a funk, but in that stinky hole began praising God in front of their “captive audience” of other prisoners and the jailer in charge. Then came a violent earthquake—and many prisoners escaped. But not Paul and Silas, who kept the jailer from committing suicide and led him to faith in Christ.

And this remarkable story (think what Hollywood could do with it!) was the background of Paul’s comment as he began his letter, “I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now” (Phil. 1:5). The “first day” (and week) were chock-full of negatives! Then they were literally caged in, their feet in stocks in the inner part of the filthy prison. But Paul remembered it with joy. It wasn’t the ideal script he would have written, but He trusted God to work through all the negatives.

All of that from hearing the cacophony of crowing at the fair? Well, yes. God can use anything to remind us of His truth. He used a donkey for Balaam, a whale for Jonah and, that day, a rooster for me.