How a Chicken Skewer Changed My Life

Not because it was so delicious that I had to rethink everything. It wasn’t bad, besides that it was undercooked. Well, let me explain.

So there I was, leaving the library, reflecting on The Kingdom of God is Within You  which I would Recommend with a capital R, by the way. So I was thinking about how all our lives are filled with such insidious lies, how everything that we know and love and are accustomed to is so vastly different from God and His truth. And in the spirit of this, I decided to avoid the capitalist’s food court and get a chicken skewer from this booth whose sign had the word “mission” in it. I was down, so I bought one, liked it, and then went back for another, and a cookie. I wish that I hadn’t asked for the cookie or the second chicken now. I should have just let them keep the money for free since they were church kids, like they almost thought I was going to do. Sure that would have been weird, but well, not quite as weird as what happened next.

The second chicken skewer was questionable. I mean, one of the pieces was quite undercooked in the center.  I just sort of ate around the worst part. I don’t know why I took the chance in the first place. Why couldn’t I have just thrown it away and gotten something else? I knew it was a bad idea, why did I do it? I feel like such an idiot. And then I ate a cookie. A cookie is the last thing you need after eating questionable poultry!

And then, I became plagued by one of my many ridiculous moral dilemmas. Should I report the problem to the people at the booth? I knew it was going to be intensely awkward, especially since I had talked to the people there while I was buying it and they would remember me. For my own sake, I really didn’t want to go. Why complain? I’m just too shy for that. However, I was afraid that the problem would go unnoticed and someone would get sick. So I finally forced myself to go back, but I’m sure that it did no good and I only offended them. My conscience was not released like I thought it would be. Honestly, I don’t know why at times I am so conscientious and at other times, unscrupulous. 

Soon, I started to feel a little sick. I still feel a little sick. Well, it serves me right. I don’t regret trying to help the missionary booth, but I do regret feeling smug about it, and I suppose I also regret my cowardice. If I thought that alerting them was the right thing to do, why didn’t I do it right away, and do it in such a way that they wouldn’t get offended at all? And why did I eat the chicken in the first place when I saw it was undercooked?!

I was half-asleep driving home, and when I finally made it back safe, I rested in bed for a little while, reflecting on my life, God. I know that I might be overreacting a little, but at the same time, I’m not, because life can end at any moment. People die from sickness every day. Not to make light of it, but I think it’s ironic that often the most dangerous things are certain bacteria, which are so small that they can’t even be seen with the naked eye, and yet they can cause more destruction than big things like guns and armies and governments. I don’t know, just a thought. Anyway, I thought about life and death, and I came to the conclusion that in some ways, It may be kind of nice to die, because I would finally get to be with God. It would also be nice, I suppose, to have people, hopefully, appreciating me for once, and remembering me fondly, but I suppose this is a vain and self-indulgent reason to wish for the end of the life that God has so graciously given. And my life isn’t so bad, I don’t know why I complain so much. 

But at the very same time, I don’t really want to die, because I feel like I still have things that I want to do. I suppose that I worry about dying a little, mainly what people would think of me if I died for so silly a reason as a chicken skewer.

Of course, for the next couple weeks, I will be thinking about this chicken skewer and wondering if and when the salmonella will set in. Actually, I had salmonella as a small child and was hospitalized. Maybe that is why I fear it, because I am told of my light brush with death as a child. Well, I don’t want to deceive, I wasn’t that close to death, but not that far either, I guess you could say. 

I should always remember that life can end at any time, that life is too short to worry, and that I must rely on God for everything. Maybe this will also help me remember that I should be making more of an effort to do what I was really placed on this earth to do instead of “chickening out” all the time. Whatever it is, exactly, that I was put on this each to do. 

 

 

 

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