Little Red Hen Mode

Then [Jesus] said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few, therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” – Matthew 9:37-38 (ESV) 

One of my fatal flaws is thinking it all depends on me: my labor, my know-how, my commitment to getting the job done. I call this Little Red Hen mode.  

Remember her? She sowed the seed, weeded the field, harvested and milled the grain, baked the bread, inviting her fellow farm animals into the work at every step. They begged off, but when they smelled that bread baking, they sure came running.  

The hen let them watch while she carbo-loaded that whole loaf by herself. I would never. Instead, I would feed everybody while harboring bitterness that no one had helped me along the way.  

My church recently made a big thing happen: creating an emergency shelter for LGBTQ+ asylum seekers. I was overwhelmed with many tasks and found it hard to delegate. Among other things, we needed new mattresses.  

An agency gave me the name of a mattress store that might be willing to donate. I almost didn’t call. I feared red tape and, frankly, rejection: either because we were a church or because we were supporting trans refugees. 

But I’m trying to change my attitude, so I called. Joe answered on the second ring. He was warm, receptive. He joked, “If I can get corporate to donate the mattresses, maybe you can pray for me in exchange?”  

Playing along, I said, “I’ll pray for you even if you don’t get us the mattresses. What do you want?” 

He turned shy. “Well…every night my family prays for other families—all kinds of families, however they got here. That everyone can live in peace and safety.” 

“I’ll join you in that prayer.” Corporate didn’t donate the mattresses. But Joe and his employees all chipped in and paid for them anyhow.  

When we get embittered that we are the only one doing God’s work, we might stop and ask ourselves if we have prayed and acted in ways that invite others in to find their place in it. 

Prayer
Holy Farmer, may I sometimes stop the stoop laboring to look around and find fellow field hands, with playfulness not bitterness.

About the Author
Rev. Molly Baskette is the lead pastor of First Church Berkeley UCC and the author of books about church renewal, parenting, spiritual growth and more. Sign up for her author newsletter or get information about her newest book at mollybaskette.com.