“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on you own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Poverbs 3:5)
I had seen dogs who were fearful. Dogs that hid in their kennels at the sound of thunder or ran in terror at the drop of a plate. So when the Martin’s called me about their fearful German Shepherd mix, Dief, I was pretty sure I knew what I was getting myself into.
I asked that the Martin’s meet me outside for our first meeting with Dief on lead. When I arrived at their home, I glanced at Dief and already I could tell that Dief sensed something was up. Dief’s crooked ears were alert but he was strained as far back from my car as he could possibly get. Julie tried to coax Dief forward with her loving, gentle pleas but Dief held back, looking for a way out, straining back against the leash. I hadn’t even gotten out of the car.
My hours of reading and research on fearful dogs had taught me the safest way to approach a fearful dog so I stepped from the car gently with a bag of warmed bits of hot dog strapped to my hip. I turned to the side so as not to face him directly on, which dogs see as a threat or challenge, and I edged a bit closer. Dief nervously paced back and forth as far back from Julie as the leash would allow. He tried to free himself from his collar and turned in circles trying to escape. To Dief, my approach meant imminent death and destruction and there was no where for him to hide, no one who he could trust to save him. When the Martin’s disclosed Dief’s tragic start in life, the behavior began to make sense.
Julie and Mark had recently adopted Dief from a rescue group where he spent the last few weeks recuperating after being dumped in a ditch with the rest of his litter mates. He hadn’t seen much of the world and from what he had seen, he determined it was a scary place to be. The Martin’s had done a wonderful job at taking things slowly with Dief. He had adapted to their home and had gained some semblance of normalcy in his new life. But with strangers--and that was anyone besides Julie and Mark-- Dief was terrified.
When I began to see Dief’s desperate attempts to flee from my approach, I stopped where I was and began to toss the warm hot dog to Dief. To most dogs, it’s manna from heaven but Dief did not take the bait. Would you step toward an axe murderer who was offering you filet mignon? That’s how Dief interpreted the situation. In reality, I was offering freely what most dogs would have to work for in order to earn. I tossed it in the air and all he had to do was move forward a quarter of an inch and he would experience doggy bliss in a pressed meat form. He didn’t budge.
Dief had a comfort zone. A place where the world was safe. Where he wasn’t vulnerable. If he stayed back far enough,perhaps the next county, he wouldn’t get hurt. What he didn’t take into account was that he also would not get a warm bit of hot dog, a gentle, reassuring scratch behind the ear or the pleasure of the perfect belly rub.
Humans have a comfort zone as well. Staying back in our comfort zone may make life seem safe but it certainly doesn’t enrich it. How often do we wrap ourselves in our fears and deny ourselves the blessings God has waiting for us if we would only take that quarter of an inch step forward. If we would only budge.
Jesus came so “that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10) But that means stepping forward in faith. It means putting ourselves out there and risking rejection and hurt. Maybe we’ve had a rough start in life. Perhaps, like Dief, we were rejected, tossed aside. We were hurt by people who were supposed to care for us so we find it safer to just stay back away from anyone who could hurt us again. God knows what happens to us and he doesn’t ask us to forget those horrible circumstances but to step forward in faith, and take hold of the new life that he is offering us.
Sometimes that new life begins with the guy in the next cubicle over. Or the elderly woman who just stopped to pet your dog. God places people in our lives with hot dogs strapped to their waist. They possess blessings just waiting to be tossed to us freely if only we’d step forward.
By the end of six weeks, Dief was making great strides; coming up to me and taking the bits of chicken or steak I had diced up from last nights meal. He was slowly getting out more and experiencing trail hikes and car rides and beginning to warm up to family members who visited his home. Through training, he was growing closer to Julie and Mark. He was beginning to trust in them and live in freedom from fear. Seek God, grow closer to Him, and embrace the blessings just waiting to be tossed.
