Midweek Musing-November 5, 2025

Midweek Musing 11-5-25

Recently as the weather got cooler and the autumn season fully settled in, I made a statement outside in the morning car rider line that one of our young teachers swore they had never heard.

I said, “Boy, I love this weather; lets me know it’s almost Hog Killing Time.”

They quickly asked what “Hog killing time was?”

I probably told them way more than they wanted to know!

But in case you too aren’t familiar with the term. Hog-killing time happened in the south in late fall or early winter, often right after the first frost since the cooler temperatures helped preserve the meat. Hog-killing time was a community-wide event, a celebration where families and neighbors gathered to butcher, clean, and process every part of the hog. Then after the hard work was done, folks cooked, shared stories, laughed, and shared a meal together.

I went on to explain that after that day of joy the prized cuts (like hams, bacon, and ribs) were cured or smoked and used to pay rent to the landowners and sold in marketplaces for basic necessities for the farmers and their families. However, nothing went to waste, and the scraps were left to those who had little. Those “scraps” like pig’s feet, hog jowls, and chitlins became poor farmer families staple food.

They asked what those “things” were. I explained matter of factly, they are hog feet, ears, tails, and intestines. After a huge yuck, I was asked if I had ever eaten those things or helped kill a hog.

My answer was both yes and no.

You see when I was younger, I spent several July Fourths celebrating at Jr. Brown’s home/farm in Elberton, Georgia. Jr. Brown lived just behind my grandmother, Mema, at 17 Oak Street.

Every Fourth of July he would cook a whole hog over a spit, it took a full day and night and when done was tender, juicy, and delicious.

While the hog arrived partially butchered cleaned; the processor sent it with all the parts and Jr. Brown used most of them, including the chitlins.

Now, Jr. Brown cooked them a little differently than some. After cleaning them well and boiling them outside near the garden away from the house in a cast iron pot for a long while, he cut them into pieces and lightly battered them before deep-frying them in a hot skillet of Crisco oil. I can still remember the smell, the sizzle, and the crowd that gathered to taste what he was making. And like most anything deep-fried, they were pretty good—at least while they were warm.

Most of the time, chitlins aren’t cooked like that. They are boiled or stewed for hours, but most families do clean them outside away from the house because, well, the smell is rather intense.

For enslaved African Americans, chitlins were survival food. They took what was given as scraps and, with creativity and care, turned it into a meal that fed their families and built community.

Poor white Southerners facing poverty learned the same lesson: you make do with what you have. Out of hardship, people found a way to gather, eat, and keep going.

But here’s the irony of history: the very dish once considered “scraps” has now found its way onto the menus of fine dining restaurants. What was once rejected has become a delicacy on white tablecloths across the United States and even internationally.

I have even seen celebrity chefs use it as a primary ingredient on Food Network TV programs. And every time I see that, I can’t help but think about how the story of those scraps mirrors the story of our faith.

You see this item that has gone from the discarded scraps to expensive China is more than a lesson from food history; it is an example of a gospel truth.

Psalm 118:22 says, “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”

Friends, God has a way of turning what the world discards into the foundation of something new. God takes scraps and makes them into sustenance. God takes what feels rejected and makes it the cornerstone.

Maybe you know what it feels like to live off scraps. Maybe they have been physical scraps or maybe they have been spiritual ones like scraps of joy, of peace, of hope.

Maybe you’ve had seasons where you wondered if there was enough left to keep going.

Perhaps chitlins might serve to remind us of something bigger: God can take even the scraps of our lives and make them into an extravagant feast.

So even on the hard days—and yes, some days are just hard—take heart. Whatever scraps you’re holding, they are not wasted.

For in God’s hands, even what the world dismisses can become a cornerstone or a delicacy on the table of grace.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Alleluia Amen.