Bad Company?

Hey there,

A few years back there was a farmer who was fed up with the crows tearing up his cornfield. So, he loaded his shotgun, sneaked along the fence row, and waited...

Now this farmer also had a parrot—a real social butterfly of a bird who made friends with just about anybody. When the parrot spotted the flock of crows, he flew right over and joined them. Just being friendly, you know.

The farmer never saw his parrot in the mix. He peaked up, took careful aim… BANG!

He climbed over the fence to collect the fallen crows and there, among the feathers, was his own parrot—wing broken, feathers everywhere, but still breathing. He carried the bird home. The kids ran out crying, “Papa, what happened?!”

Before the farmer could open his mouth, the parrot rasped, “Bad company!”

I laugh every time I hear that story.

But it also takes me straight back to something my Granddad told me the week I shipped out for my first duty assignment overseas. I was an 18-year-old kid—nervous, trying to look tougher than I felt. I’d never left the country before and had barely left the state of Texas. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. As I climbed into the truck to leave, Granddad put his hand on my shoulder and said simply,
“When you get over there, Charlie, find the Church. They’ll take care of you.”

Those words probably saved my life.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back, I know they did.

Have you ever driven a road at night that didn’t have a centerline?
You start to drift. Slowly at first, then more than you mean to.
The church—that community of believers and friends—is like the centerline on the road to heaven. Without it, it’s hard to stay on course. You just start to drift.

 So, I did what Granddaddy said.

When I arrived at RAF Lakenheath, England, I found the paper, scanned the tiny ads, and somehow spotted the smallest 1-inch square for the local church. I showed up. And the people there—who didn’t know me from Adam—showed up for me. They gave me rides to church. They prayed when I didn’t have the words. They pulled me back when I started wandering toward the wrong flock. Being around that kind of company kept me centered when everything else was trying to knock me off course. That’s the quiet power of the people we choose to run with.

Scripture gives us a living picture of it in the Gospel of Mark (you’ll find the same account in Luke 5). Jesus is back in Capernaum, and the house where He’s teaching is so packed that people are spilling out the doors and windows. No one else can get in.

Then four men show up carrying their friend on a mat. The man is paralyzed—he can’t walk, can’t push through the crowd, can’t do anything for himself. The four friends refuse to turn around. They climb up on the flat roof, dig a hole straight through it, and lower their friend down on his mat until he’s lying right at Jesus’ feet.

The room goes silent. And then Mark tells us something I think we often overlook: “When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’”

Not the paralyzed man’s faith.

Their faith, his friends.

Their faith opened the door for forgiveness and healing he could never have reached on his own.

That’s why community matters.

Bad company can leave you with a broken wing.
Good company will tear a hole in the roof for you.

We weren’t meant to get to Jesus by ourselves. Some days our own faith feels strong. Other days it feels paralyzed. That’s when the people around us—the church family who refuse to leave us outside—become the very means God uses to carry us closer to Him.

So here’s the question I’m asking myself this week, and maybe you’ll ask it too:

Whose flock am I flying with right now?

And is it the kind of company that will still be carrying me toward Jesus when I can’t get there on my own?

Granddad was right. Find the church. Find the people who refuse to leave you outside. They really will take care of you.

And if you’re looking for a Jesus community in the Black Hills—people who will help keep you on that centerline—know that you are welcome at Black Hills Church. We gather every week as ordinary followers of Jesus who are still learning what it means to carry one another’s mats.

And if you’re not from this area, I encourage you to find the believers near you. Look for the ones who show up, who pray when the words are hard, and who refuse to let you drift. That kind of company really will take care of you.

~ Charlie