Rotisserie Chicken Christianity

I'm a Western Culture wimp.  My chicken comes already baked on a rotisserie in one of three flavors. I don't chop his (or her?) cute little head off.  I don't pluck each feather out-I wouldn't know where to begin.  I certainly don't know what to do with the organs. One year, I left the bag inside our Thanksgiving turkey.  I'm sure the  organs weren't fearfully and wonderfully made to function inside a little bag.  ...ugh, and what about the blood?

It's enough to make me want to go vegan.  I'm so removed from the nitty gritty work of making chicken for dinner that just the thought of what goes into it makes me lose my appetite.

In a sermon I found on You Tube, Francis Chan comments on how cute little Noah's Ark nursery decorations are.  We paint the Ark, all the animals and Noah's family - but not the hundreds of thousands of people who died.  

Sometimes I hate I'm such a visual thinker.  I hear him speak of it and I see Edvard Munch-like people lining the baseboard of the nursery...only a few hundred, though.  It is, after all, a nursery.

Do we tell our children about how all those moms, dads, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, and neighbors died in the flood?

My parents both grew up on farms.  They raised baby calves and then allowed them to be slaughtered.   I know it's redundant to call them baby calves, but they are just. SO. cute!!  They deserve an extra cute name.  Right??

See how far I am removed from the Red Fern of it all?

I watched almost every episode of Little House On The Prairie.  I read all of the books. But I lived in regular houses growing up.  Sometimes they were located near farms, but the pioneer lifestyle, and farm living is as removed from me...

...as the realization that today 100's of the people I know could spend

eternity

in hell.

Here I am reclined on my couch.  What am I doing to change that?  Will I always be a Rotisserie Chicken Christian?

I want to be a pioneer Christian.  I long to take the risks that it takes.  But I long even more for those risks to be as commonplace in my lifestyle as cutting the heads off chickens is for a farmer's wife.

Do I want it enough to change?