Nothing Wasted: Even God Knows How to Pick a Chicken

Growing up, my mom used to bake a whole chicken at least once every week. I guess you could get a whole chicken pretty cheap, and our family was pretty big. A six-pound chicken could feed a lot of people. I always thought a plump little chicken was kind of cute–sort of like a newborn baby, but kind of creepy without a head. And definitely gross. Back then, I wouldn’t have been caught dead handling a raw chicken. But my mom made an actual sport of it. She could be quite rough–spraying it inside and out with the hose from the sink and yanking out the innards. With both hands, she rubbed it all over with butter and then just sprinkled the top with a little salt and pepper. Nothing fancy, and always served with a side of mashed potatoes and peas. You had to stir those two things together and eat them with a spoon.

But what I remember most about that dinner was that she cooked all the inside stuff from the chicken, too–the gizzard and the liver and anything else that was stuck inside. My brothers actually used to fight over who got to eat those parts. Then, after she sliced up everything, she would drain off the liquid left in the bottom of the baking dish–the chicken stock. That part would either get turned into gravy for the mashed potatoes or Mom would save it and make some kind of soup. After we had all eaten as much as we wanted, my mother would sit at the table and pick the leftover chicken from the bones. If she was lucky, my dad would do it for her. I guess she had had enough of the chicken by that point.

Nothing wasted.

I recently attended a conference with a lot of other social entrepreneurs. We spent an intense three days together. One of the exercises we did was to identify three challenges in our life, the choices that resulted, and the values we learned.

Here is what I discovered:  

There are lots of things I can do, but only some things I am made to do. (Even though I like chicken, I’ll never be able to pick a chicken as clean as my mom.)


Perspective matters. If I’m always looking for the potential in the problem, I’ll discover a world of possibility.  


All the work I’ve ever done has not been in vain. God can (and will) use it. Nothing wasted.

The exercise was important because it really helped me crystallize what is important to me.

Of the three, I latched on hardest to Nothing wasted.

At this working conference, I labored among visionaries from a wide variety of fields of expertise. Everyone there understood the blood, sweat, and tears necessary for building a great brand. As one of the oldest in the room, I could have easily felt intimidated by the sharp-witted, twenty-somethings embarking on adventures to change the world—young women who have started successful businesses from scratch, others who had been on mission trips and been broken by what they experienced, all of them dreamy—like me.

But unlike me, I felt like God had given them a skill set they were using with more depth and dexterity than anything I had ever attempted. They rallied friends and family to begin nonprofits that bring both awareness and funds to worthy causes. They launched websites and built platforms with enormous reach. They cultivated communities of radical compassion.

I was awestruck.

At their age, I was just trying to decide what I was going to do on the weekend. I felt like a superstar if I went for a hike rather than to the mall.

I had to remember that I, too, am uniquely created for something. And in God’s great kitchen in the sky, nothing is ever wasted.

God is good—all the time.

It’s one of those overused phrases of Christian-ese. I hear people say it when they’ve prayed for a miracle and God answers favorably. I rarely hear it said on the heels of sadness, loss, and pain. Yet if we believe it’s true—that God really is good all the time—how would it change both the way we view our past and our future?

When I’m thankful for what God has done, it gives me the courage to look forward to my future.

When I’m thankful for how he has used people to do amazing things, I have confidence to partner with others who want to serve him.

When I’m thankful for why God brought me to place, I regard the days I have left with the stewardship they deserve.

When I’m thankful for where I am—at the particular moment in history, in this particular part of the world—I am compelled to act in accordance with the resources I’m allocated.

When I’m thankful for who God is, I am aware of who I am not. And thank the Lord that he directs my path.

All I have to do is think of my mom working in her tiny kitchen to feed her big family. The chicken might not have been pretty, but it was delicious. We ate it.

Nothing wasted.

Your work is not in vain. God doesn't waste anything. @chanlynnadams @Grit_Grace
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