His crows aren’t just duties; they’re woven into the rhythm of his existence, calling out not only to his domain but to the heavens themselves.
"It was the crow of Chauntecleer. The morning crow, the waking crow, the beginning crow, the opening of the day to the powers of Heaven.
It was the crow of joy, the shout of birth, the proclamation of life against nothingness. It was the beginning."
This passage highlights the profound nature of his crows—they’re not just sounds but declarations of life and meaning, filled with intentionality and purpose.
Similarly, later sections describe his other crows, such as the evening crow, as fulfilling a different role, marking time and offering order amidst the chaos. These rhythms of crowing reflect not just duty but a profound connection to the divine and the natural order.
This imagery ties beautifully to prayer, where structured, intentional moments mark our days, connecting us to God and proclaiming life, faith, and hope against the backdrop of the world’s uncertainties.
I am NOT a great person of prayer. I do have a running conversation with God almost everyday, very casual... you might say "shallow" and I have never been good at a routine of prayer, it feels ritualistic to me at times.
But I forget that routine is discipline, it is good. And scheduling prayer for more than trivial interactions allows for deeper discussions.
Unfortunately, I'm the same way with my wife. I'm with her often, I love being with her, but my conversations can be trivial and not intentional.
Recently, I was challenged about this in thinking through the prayer of Moses and his interactions with Yahweh.
The dialogues between God and Moses about the Israelites' stubbornness reveal a remarkable relationship between divine justice, mercy, and human intercession.
In these exchanges, particularly in Exodus 32 and Numbers 14, we see Moses stepping into the role of mediator, often advocating for the very people who test his patience. These moments are more than dramatic stories—they offer profound insights into prayer, leadership, and the dynamic nature of God’s relationship with humanity.
Take the golden calf incident in Exodus 32. God, angered by the Israelites' idolatry, speaks to Moses of destroying them, calling them “your people, whom you brought out of Egypt.” It’s as if God distances Himself from their failure, yet Moses boldly counters, appealing to God’s promises and reputation. He pleads for mercy, invoking God’s covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and urges Him to “relent” from judgment. Similarly, in Numbers 14, after the Israelites refuse to enter Canaan, Moses again steps forward to intercede, reminding God of His steadfast love and reputation among the nations.
What’s striking is how the roles seem to reverse at times.
Moses, often exasperated with the people, becomes their advocate, while God expresses righteous anger. Yet, this is no divine tantrum—it’s a moment where God invites Moses into the tension between judgment and mercy, teaching him (and us) the depth of covenant love. Moses doesn’t deny the people’s sins but prays for their restoration, embodying a leadership rooted in compassion and persistence.
These dialogues also highlight the mystery of prayer.
In passages where God “relents” from judgment, such as Exodus 32:14, the Hebrew word nacham (translated as “repent” or “relent”) suggests a God willing to engage with human appeals. This doesn’t mean God changes His nature or ultimate purposes; instead, He invites human partnership, allowing prayer to influence His actions within the framework of His sovereign will. Moses’ prayers, grounded in God’s character and promises, show that bold, intercessory prayer is not about changing God’s mind but aligning ourselves with His heart.
For us, these exchanges teach profound lessons- especially about prayer.
Prayer can be bold, honest, and persistent—like Moses, we can bring our frustrations and fears to God while interceding for others, even those who frustrate us. Leadership, too, is illuminated here: true leaders, like Moses, bear the weight of their people’s struggles and seek their good, even when it’s hard. And ultimately, these moments foreshadow the ultimate mediator, Christ, who fully embodies advocacy, atonement, and the tension between justice and mercy.
The dialogues between God and Moses remind us of the transformative power of prayer—not just to ask for change but to align our hearts with God’s purposes, drawing us deeper into the mystery of His unchanging love.
I need to schedule some time to just pray....... how about you?
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