Peace In Predictability

“I am who I am” (Exodus 3:14)
I’ve learned quite a bit from having dogs in my life whether they were strays at the shelter, other’s pets, or my own.  One of the qualities I most embrace is their openness and ease with who they are; there is never any pretense with a dog. There is no hidden agenda or sly smiles; just reality staring you, sniffing you, licking you, right in the face. 
“For I the Lord do not change;” (Malachi 2:3).  We often talk about the need for stability in our lives. We long for friends we can rely on; ones that will be who they say they are which is one of the reasons I think we are so drawn to dogs.  We desperately seek some semblance of assurance but the Bible warns us that anything we seek in this world to supply that stability will one day be gone.  
“Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, 
and the heavens are the work of your hands.
They will perish, but you will remain; 
they will all wear out like a garment.
You will change them like a robe, and 
they will pass away,
but you are the same, and your years
have no end.”  (Ps. 102: 26,27)
When it comes to my dog, Deion, there’s is one thing I can always count on.  If he sees a squirrel, I will cease to exist.  And it never fails, the later I am for something, the more squirrels in the backyard to garner Deion’s attention.  My neighbor’s often witness me trying to wrangle my dog in with pleas and chunks of chicken as Deion races around me with steadfast focus on his agenda, not mine.  I love to imagine a world where Deion suddenly stops in his tracks and thinks to himself, “This behavior is pointless, she’s right.  I’ll never catch the squirrel so I should just change this crazy notion and become exactly who she wants me to be to make her life easier.”  But he can’t.  It’s not in his nature. If Deion is going to go after a squirrel, he’s going to do it in my backyard as quickly as he would if he were standing center ring at Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.  It’s who he is, the nature of his being.  He doesn’t change depending the circumstances or who is watching.  He’ll openly humble me and my feeble attempts at flexing my dog training muscle no matter who is present.  

Sadly, even our old predictable dogs don’t live forever.  Life in this world is full of changes, good and bad.  Yet, thankfully, “Jesus is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Heb. 13:8).  God’s nature of gentle compassion, majesty, goodness, patience with his wayward children--that would be us--final judgement on all, divine mercy, and abundant grace that he showers upon those who believe, will never change.  He can’t help but be who he is.  The one constant in which we can put all our hope.  The God who created the small black squirrel who teasingly darts from tree to tree just outside our fence line is the same God who created my crazy, mixed-up Doberman who will bark and run a rut through the back of the yard in a rage of frustration.  As always, the squirrel will cackle in that mocking sound that resembles laughter and I smile at the predictability of it all.  I can’t help but think that God gets a kick out of it too.

A Hard Lesson

“In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith--more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire--may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 1:6,7)
A quick internet search reveals page after page of articles and videos detailing brave dogs who moved in quickly and selflessly to save their owner from a train, a fire, a bear, a cougar, even suicide.  Their stories are an amazing testimony to the bond between a dog and their human companions.  And then there’s my story.
Trying to burn off the excess energy of a four year-old Doberman is a full-time job and after countless daily walks around the same old streets, I thought that I would try something new.  I decided to bike around the neighborhood while Deion, my Dobe, trotted along side on his leash.  As I held the leash in one hand and steered my bike with the other, we glided effortlessly around the block.  Deion seemed to enjoy the quicker pace and I was delighted that I could easily keep up with him.  As I proudly hummed along, marveling at my ingenious solution to Deion’s need of constant movement, I had foolishly failed to remember another of Deion’s persistent desires.  The desire to rid the entire neighborhood of the pesky, ever-present squirrel population.  It’s not only a need for Deion but an instinctual passion to chase any small, furry rodent of which he happens to catch sight.  Today was no exception.  As I obliviously peddled along enjoying the warm breeze and pleasant sunshine, I suddenly found myself jerked off my proud pedestal and planted face down on the cold, hard concrete.  Lying wedged between the street and my bike, I slowly took stock of each limb, making sure it was still in working condition.  Once it was established that yes, I could stand up and make my way back home, I realized that my faithful dog companion for whom this whole biking experience was created was not fearlessly trying to lift the bike from my crumpled and bruised body.  He was not pulling my cell phone out of my pocket to dial 911 or summoning Timmy to come to my rescue.  No, he was obliviously barking and racing around a tree after a small black squirrel.  
There were a few thoughts that came into my mind as I slowly picked myself and my bike up off the ground.  One was that maybe Deion didn’t love me as much as I thought he did.  Maybe our relationship wasn’t as strong as some dog-human bonds.  I thought that if I’d really been hurt, could I have laid there for hours without Deion even being aware that I was no longer holding on to his leash?  And now, with scraped knees and a wounded pride, I had to chase and gain control of this dog that couldn’t have cared one iota if I lived or died.  The whole incident hurt me in more ways than one.
Resentfully, I snatched Deion’s leash and wobbled home with Deion once again at my side.  He walked gingerly and occasionally, glanced up at me.  “Oh, now you notice I’m here.” I said, sarcastically.  He seemed to feel, with that mysteriously perceptive canine insight that things weren’t right between us and for the rest of the afternoon, he stayed by my side and rested his head on my lap whenever I was seated.  I realized that Deion did indeed love me and that his lapse in judgement wasn’t indicative of the state of our relationship but just an instinctual drive that he could not control.  I felt assured that if our house ever caught on fire, Deion would indeed save our family.  Unless, of course, a squirrel got there first.
It wasn’t until years later, following another circumstance in which I felt forgotten about and neglected that I reflected on the similarity between the bicycle incident and the one I was currently battling.  I again felt abandoned but this time by God.  I prayed over the circumstance, recited Bible passages in my head but still it was as if I was once again lying in the street pressed between the cement and this crushing burden.  Where was God?  Why wasn’t He paying attention to my desperate prayers and petitions?  Again I wondered as I did in the circumstance with Deion, is it because I’m not loved like I thought I was?  Did I not build my relationship with God enough through daily Bible reading and prayer?  Was I being punished?  What continued to pull me through my circumstance was reflecting on the fact that God is and has always been faithful.  Just as there were countless times in the past when Deion’s warm, gentle presence had lifted my spirit when I was sick or saddened, God has always been there for me.  The fact that He wasn’t seemingly present in the time frame I expected Him to be was not an indication that He didn’t know what I was going through.  
“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. and let steadfastness have it full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4)  There are times when the pain we are going through is a time of strengthening our faith and rebuilding our dependency on God’s grace and mercy.  Never confuse God’s inaction in times of trial as indifference.  As hard as it may be to believe at the time, God is there, He does love us, and is working on us and in us through this trial.  “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.”  (James 1:12)  God is not oblivious to your pain, you simply need to continue to pursue him by prayer and petition.  He will be with you and walk by your side all the way home.

A Humble Birth

Even in our ever-increasingly secular world, the connection between Christ and Christmas is acknowledged, if not entirely accepted by a vast majority of people.  The virgin birth, a bright star, gold, frankincense, and myrrh can, thankfully, still be heard intermingled among the carols of Santa Claus, animated snow men and silver bells.    Perhaps one of the most iconic images of the season is a tiny babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.   The nativity scene is a moving juxtaposition of humility and majesty.  It was a birth in surroundings inconceivable to women today.  No sterile white bed sheets, no medical staff assistance, definitely no epidural.  Just two scared and awestruck new parents, a baby in a feeding trough and a barn full of animals.  

Yet, this wasn’t just any birth and this baby just wasn’t any baby.  This was God himself; the creator of the universe, and where did he choose to come into the world?  In a stable.  What sounds did he, the maker of booming thunder and crashing waves, first chose to hear among the gentle words of his mother and father?  He chose the rustling of straw, the hooves of cattle and sheep as they trod on the hardened soil, the murmur of cattle and sheep, oxen and mules.  The Lamb of God entered this world surrounded by animals.   

Not only that but Jesus’ first birth announcement wasn’t sent to the town square or delivered in the presence of kings and rulers but it was received out in a remote field by simple shepherds watching over their sheep.  As the shepherds trembled “with great fear” (Luke 2:9), the sheep stood silent, their fleece glowing in “the glory of the Lord as it shone all around them”, quietly at peace knowing the great Shepherd of all mankind had just humbly made his appearance on this earth.   

Enter into an artist’s studio and you won’t find a room of empty white walls but you’ll find yourself surrounded by canvases created by the artist himself.   God, from the very beginning, found joy in the presence of His creation.  “And God made the beasts of the earth...and the livestock...and everything that creeps on the ground.....And God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1:25) Jesus wasn’t born simply into a stable but into the Artist’s studio.  As you celebrate this Christmas season, take time to ponder on the humility of God’s entrance into this world.  Look around your home at the animals you choose to share your life with and ask yourself, why is it that we live in pristine homes filled with every human luxury, yet so many of us feel more joy by having animals live among us? Look out the window and take in his creation and let it speak to you.  It is the very language of God.

“But now ask the beasts, and let them teach you;

And the birds of the heavens, and let them tell you.

Or speak to the earth, and let it teach you;

And let the fish of the sea declare to you.

Who among all these does not know 

That the hand of the LORD has done this,

In whose hand is the life of every living thing,

And the breath of all mankind?”  (Job 12:7-10)

A Repurposed Life

At six years old, Lilia found herself out of a job.  After faithfully serving as a loyal friend and companion, she soon learned that a big move out of state didn’t include her.  When Jim first met Lilia, she was running out of options.  He had had yellow Labs for 25 years and after his most recent dog passed away, he swore he was done.  He couldn’t go through the pain and loss of another dear companion.  But there was something special about Lilia.  Her crazy puppy days were behind her and she had mellowed a into gentle, sweet-natured soul.  It suddenly appeared to Jim that he had an opening in the family dog department and Lilia was hired.

The timing was providential.  Jim Jimison also found himself out of a job -- voluntarily.  He had recently retired from serving as the Bainbridge Township Police Chief and walked away with pride and a tinge of sadness over leaving the police force he helped to create.  For forty-six years, Jim woke up, put on his crisp blue police uniform, kissed his wife and left his home with a purpose, to serve and protect.  Lilia had lived for six years in her former home with the same purpose, to serve and protect.  Now, here they were, together and they soon discovered that one’s true purpose has nothing to do with a job.  

As Jim neared retirement, he got busy.  He had seen too many former officers hang up their uniform along with their desire to do much of anything else.  No, Jim was going to continue to make a difference.  He began serving on the Kenston School Board and on the Advisory Committee for the Geauga County Department of Aging, he volunteered at the USO and served on the Executive Committee of the Ohio Retired Police Chief Association, he golfed on a league two days a week and now found himself proud owner of a six-year old yellow Lab.  During this time, Jim also went through surgery that required extensive physical therapy.  He spent many hours at the treatment center and witnessed the loneliness of many of the long-term care seniors.  He had heard over the years about the remarkable difference in mental as well as physical well-being that therapy dogs made in the lives of residents at senior living centers and vowed when he was back on his feet, he and Lilia were going to be there for them.  

Lilia had all the makings of the perfect therapy dog.  She was easy-going, friendly with other dogs, people, and children.  The world didn’t faze her.  Jim had noticed that her former owner had taken time to work with her and train her and she was attentive and obedient.  Lilia passed therapy dog training with flying colors.  And recently, both were certified as a therapy dog team through Therapy Dog International.  Both Lilia and Jim had a new purpose.  

In Dr. Rick Warren’s hugely successful book, The Purpose Driven Life, he states, “The purpose of your life is far greater than your own personal fulfillment, your peace of mind, or even your happiness.  It’s far greater than your family, your career, or even your wildest dreams and ambitions.  If you want to know why you were placed on this planet, you must begin with God.  You were born by his purpose and for his purpose.”  His purposes for us are far greater than even we can imagine.  They can sometimes seem overwhelming or scary and it’s easy to see why some choose to not act at all.  When the job is over or the kids have flown the nest, we might think that our purpose is over but in God’s mind, it has only begun.   “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,” plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)  His purposes are always meant for our good.   

Often, as in the case of Jim and Lilia, it is meant for the good of many others as well.  Jim and Lilia light up the lives  of a few local senior centers and they are now about to embark upon training for visitation at a Hospice Center.  God has used Jim’s many years on the police force as a training ground for serving the community in a new way.  And little did Lilia’s former owner know that his years of training Lilia would serve her well just when most dogs are settling into old age.  What we think are purpose is may just be God’s way of preparing us for repurposing towards something entirely different.  Our job is to open our eyes and our minds to whatever that purpose may be.

Obedience Training

I remember watching old clips of the Ed Sullivan show and one of the acts that fascinated me was the man with the spinning plates. Eight to ten poles stood erect before him and on each he would place a single plate. With a gentle wave of his hand, he would start one spinning on top of the pole. He would then place a second plate on another pole and start that one spinning. He’d sweep his hand again over the first plate to continue its rotation and move on to a third. This process would continue until he had every plate successfully spinning. In a graceful dance that, at times, bordered on panic, he’d bounce from one wobbling plate to the next in a desperate attempt to keep all plates twirling in perpetual motion. I watched anxiously as one plate slowed, wobbling precariously on its perch, only to be quickly attended to and sent on its circular way. This sort of gives you a rough idea of what it’s like teaching a puppy obedience class.

The puppies clumsily bound in the door on that first day with their human companions dutifully in tow. Each fuzzy body wags in excitement as the moms and dads desperately try to get their budding prodigies attention. As class begins, I bounce from one frustrated owner to the next, showing them how to capture a puppies fleeting attention span with various bits of hot dog, cheese or a squeaky toy. It works, for a while. About four pups down the line and the first loses it again. After a few minutes, the newness dies down, the human counterparts regain some semblance of control, all plates are spinning and we start the class.

Sit is generally the first behavior taught and to most pups, it’s the “go-to” behavior. They pick it up quickly, usually offering it up at the sound of a opening treat bag without the word “sit” being uttered. Then there are others who bounce around like they’re spring loaded; their tiny butts occasionally grazing the ground but too excited to place it there on a permanent basis. As the weeks progress, the puppies mature and are active participants. They now sit and lie down; wait and stay but only if the reward is worth it. A warm hot dog or bit a cheese and the puppy is like putty in your hand but a stale cheerio or bit of biscuit and you’ve lost them. The world around them is much too interesting and the obedience lesson is often derailed.

I couldn’t help but think about how closely that models my own obedience to God the Father. When I first began my life as a new Christian, I was eager to please. I read my Bible with a voracious appetite. I thought about my actions and whether they were pleasing to God. I sat, I rolled over, I lied down. But as I continued on my Christian walk , I begun to get distracted. Beth Moore, in one of her Bible studies writes, “if the devil can’t make you bad, he’ll make you busy.” How true. In my busy-ness, I’m distracted by things that don’t matter and disobedience creeps in. The Bible gets put aside for an extra workout, I say words and do things without thinking of the consequences. And in turn, the blessings of God drift further away. Joy and peace are replaced with frustration and regret. In Exodus, the Israelites were promised a new land “flowing with milk and honey”. It was there, right in front of them only a few miles away so why did it take another 40 years for them to arrive in Canaan? Disobedience. Questioning God and His plan. Losing trust in the One who had freed them from slavery in Egypt, disregarding the caring Father who provided manna and water when they cried out for sustenance, turning away from the Shield and Rock who rescued them from the hand of their enemies. Their disobedience created distance between themselves and God’s blessings. In God’s wonderful grace, however, the blessing was never taken away. Their arrival in Canaan was simply postponed while they worked through their disobedience. In the same way, a puppy will see the hot dog in your hand, it will hear the instruction to “sit”, it will want that tasty treat but it will jump up and spin around and bark. Chances are, you begin to get frustrated and say the command again and again. You plead, “all you have to do is SIT and you will get this treat, please....just sit!” Sound familiar? The blessing is still there, it’s just waiting for us to simply settle down and sit. Lucky for us, God is patient.

God is pleased when our walk with Him is steady and sure. How proud are we when our dogs are on their best behavior, listening to our every command? We shower them with love and praise for their obedience but it is often short lived. Obedience takes practice. I often remind people as they and their pups say goodbye at the end of their final class, that obtaining solid obedience takes a lifetime of work. They have to continue honing their dogs obedience skills in more challenging environments. The same goes for us. Obedience is easy when we are walking into church on Sunday morning, but we have to practice in more challenging situations. We have to continually know what obedience looks like by studying Scripture and practice it throughout our lives. For instance, trusting God when things appear to be spiraling out of control and remembering His promise, “to never leave (us) or forsake (us).”

What is the ultimate blessing that awaits us when we obediently live our life for Christ? An eternity spent with the One who modeled the ultimate act of obedience. Following His Father’s will that lead him to death on the cross. Jesus laments in Matthew 26:38, ”My soul is very sorrowful, even to death...” His obedience was going to mean intense physical pain, false charges, and the betrayal of even his closest companions. Matthew 26: 39 continues, “And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” Even if the will of his Father meant death on a cross. But Jesus knew that death wasn’t the reward for his obedience but eternal life and not only His, but ours as well. He was willing to accept the suffering and the humiliation for our salvation. Jesus’ exemplified unwavering obedience in life, and in His death was the final sacrifice which wiped away our sins and allowed us access to our Heavenly Father. What a blessing that flowed from that single act of selfless obedience!

Obedience is not easy. From the moment Eve’s teeth sunk into the apple, we humans have been grappling with our choices. In His tender mercy, God does not demand perfection. He lets us tug on the leash, break our stays a few seconds early, and occasionally lie down when we were asked to sit. However, if we continue to look to the cross and remember Jesus’ example of perfect obedience, it can help us to remember the tremendous blessing that His obedience bought for us.

In A Dog's Age

Number 47 on the list of things I admire about dogs--and it’s a lengthy list mind you--they have no qualms with Father Time. You will never hear a dog moan over their bursitis or belly ache about their bunions. They won’t bemoan the way they used to be able to lift a couch up over their heads while they struggle to open a jar of mayo -- light of course, they’re watching their cholesterol. They just don’t seem to give two hoots about growing old. After all, a dog’s average life span is 12.8 years, why waste even .8 of it complaining when you could be sniffing the ground under the kitchen table for a stray Cheerio? God has blessed dogs with an ignorance of age. They seize each new day given to them without concern of failing strengths or gravity’s cruel joke on their appearance.

When I first met Dana, my former neighbor’s aging Golden, I was not prepared for what the hands of time had done to her face. I was told she had some fatty tumors but as Dana rounded the corner and ambled forward to meet me, a long, gray drooping tumor swayed back and forth like a giant fleshy pendulum from the side of her face. If she was embarrassed by my look of shock and horror, she didn’t show it. She simply continued forward with her head held high and gently licked my hand before retiring to a sunny corner to resume her afternoon nap. My neighbor seemed more embarrassed about it than Dana did. She quickly assured me that it was painless and more life- threatening to put Dana under for surgery to remove it than to simply leave it hang. So hang it did and Dana was fine with that. It’s just one of those things that happens with time and her peace with it made me ashamed of my constant struggle to hide a barely perceptible age spot. There’s no vanity in the dog world. They are blissfully unaware of the droopy lids and sagging neckline. Dogs don’t go running for the Grecian Formula in order to cover the graying that gradually appears around their mouthes. In Proverbs 16:31, it reads, “Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life” We are called to embrace our graying tresses. The Bible calls it a “crown” and who wouldn’t want to wear a crown? But the world tells us otherwise. Perhaps that’s why dogs don’t care, they don’t have to stand in line at the grocery store and tolerate the seductive stares of the beautiful people from the covers of Cosmo and Glamour. They are immune to the constant calls to stay young and fit from countless infomercials. But I have no doubt they enjoy the runs and walks we take them on as we desperately try to do just that. They gladly run beside us as we try to out run the clock and they do it with their gray hair flowing as we tuck ours under a baseball cap until our next salon appointment.

It’s not only a dog’s ambivalence toward the superficial physical changes that happen as they age that impress me but their mental attitude towards it as well. Dogs perpetually think they’re two. At a bounce of a ball or the sound of an opening chip bag, my dog Deion who is the human equivalent age of 56, will spring from his bed and run to where the action is. It’s a conditioned response that refuses to fade with time. Granted, that spring is a little less sure and quick as it used to be but the point is, he is always up for a change in the game plan. His energy is always enthusiastically pursuing those things that bring him joy. Age is not an impediment. Ecclesiastes 8:15 tells us, “And I commend joy, for man has nothing better under the sun but to eat and drink and be joyful, for this will go with him in his toil through the days of his life that God has given him under the sun.” There is joy to be had at any age, just watch your dog as he goes through his days under the sun and you would swear the water that fills his bowl is from the fountain of youth.

Dogs are living, breathing examples of the fact that God calls us to embrace our lives and His calling for it -- even as we age. It’s easy to look ahead with the bright optimism of a young and healthy twenty-year old and feel that we can do anything to which God calls us. However, it seems we heed less and less God’s calling as we age. Perhaps we think we aren’t physically capable of accomplishing much but what we have in later years is experience and the wisdom of age. “Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days” (Job 12:12) Qualities our world today values less and less but in God’s eyes, it’s a treasured gift and is of immeasurable value. Proverbs 16:16 reminds us, “How much better to get wisdom than gold! To get understanding is to be chosen rather than silver.”

Look to the Old Testament patriarchs. Noah was six hundred years old at the time of the flood. God did not call a young man to build the ark, after all, Noah had sons that could just have easily been commanded to construct the biggest boat of all time but he called Noah. Noah had wisdom and righteousness. He had the integrity to stand up against the tirade of nay sayers and scoffers that surrounded him daily. He wasn’t worried about how he appeared to the world as a younger man might, his only concern was being obedient to God. Abraham was ninety-nine years old and childless when God told him that he would be the father to a multitude of nations. Even Abraham’s wife Sarah had to laugh when she overheard that she would become a new mother while in her nineties but was quickly silenced when the angel told her, “Is anything too hard for the Lord?” (Gen. 18:14). Genesis 21 goes on to read, “Now the Lord was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what he had promised. Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him.” (21:1) Age is not a barrier if God calls you to a particular task for he will give you all that you need to fulfill it. Strength, endurance, energy and time; God will provide the provision. How else could a man as old as Moses was survive the plagues of Egypt and a 40 year trek in the desert?

God grants each and every one of our days according to his perfect purpose and will. Whether we are 9 or 90, God can and will use us if we trust and obey. Don’t ever believe you are too old to leap off the couch if God bounces the ball.

Dogs Who Teach Us To Heal

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked the boy as he ran his hand over the bandana tied to Deion’s neck.

“Orange, I guess. Or yellow.” He answered.

Knowing there was a bright orange bandana among the ones we had at home I replied, “Well, I think Deion has an orange one, he’ll wear it next time we meet.”

“Or I could bring one!” He replied, excitedly. “My mom has a bunch because she has cancer.”

I knew this moment may come when I volunteered Deion, my beloved therapy Dobe, and myself to partner with a child at the Gathering Place camp at Rescue Village, but still my mouth and heart struggled with an appropriate response. In my human-ness, I wanted to say the perfect thing. Something filled with comfort and understanding. Instead I said, “oh.” Brilliant.

“All the kids here have a mom or dad that has cancer, that’s what the camp is all about.” He added matter-of-factly. “Some of their parents are real sick.”

I was amazed at this 7 year-old boy’s frankness and transparency. Cancer was a fact and a way of life. “How’s your mom?” I stupidly spit out. Knowing a bit of the circumstances that we were briefed on prior to the camp but not aware of how he felt or his comfort level on discussing it.

“Oh, she’s doing real good!” He said with a smile on his face. He had bailed me out. We both looked down at Deion and stroked his shiny, black coat. Deion was silent.

I’ve replayed this dialogue over and over in my head. Each time, I think of something more profound I could have said. A better question I could have asked. A sentence I might have uttered that would have made this little boy with a face full of freckles and hope, understand his life as he now knew it, but I said, “oh”. I guess there were worse things I could have said. But as I glance over at Deion today, enjoying the sun warming the boards of our deck, I envy his gift of silence and am given a vivid reminder of Job 2:11-13, paraphrasing: “Now when Job’s three friends heard of all this evil that had come upon him, they each came from his own place....And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.”

I can picture the scene. Job, crumpled to ground, sitting outside the city gates in shame with his three friends surrounding him, their arms around his shoulders, their faces drawn in pain for their friend, and their mouths shut as Job mourns. The problem is, their mouths didn’t stay shut. Their human nature takes over and their words become daggers and salt. They lay blame and construct possible scenarios to justify God’s plan for Job’s life until Job declares, “As for you, you whitewash with lies; worthless physicians are you all. Oh that you would keep silent, and it would be your wisdom.” (Job 13:4,5). I also ponder the length of time they sat with Job before they spoke, seven days and seven nights. Seven, in Hebrew, is from the root savah, meaning “to be full or satisfied, have enough of”. It is the number of perfection and completion. If they would have been content in their silence at the end of those seven days, their mission would have been completed.

“oh”. Why did I feel the need to talk? I had personally witnessed the change that had occurred in the boy these last few days spent with Deion. The child, who at first, gingerly approached this large, intimidating dog; who flinched away each time Deion made a motion, was now stroking Deion’s neck, brushing his back, teaching him a trick to show his mom and dad on Parent’s Day. He had developed complete trust and his fear had subsided, not by me telling him how great Deion was or by my reassurance of Deion’s gentleness but by Deion just being Deion. No words, just gentle acts of obedience to the boy’s commands and a tenderness to the boy’s touch.

I also watched this boy, with his life consumed by cancer, forget for just a while his worries at home and experience joy and pride in “his” dog, Deion as Deion leaped through rings and effortlessly shot through the tunnels of Rescue Village’s tiny agility course.

Our words so often get in the way of our intentions. I don’t believe Job’s friends intended to make him feel worse. They loved him, they had “made an appointment to show him sympathy and comfort him.” (Job 2:11) But we put such importance on our words. Not that words can’t be a comfort, they can. But knowing when their use is appropriate is tough. At least it is for me. Dogs never have that issue. When we hurt, they curl up around us, they lay their head on our laps, they look up at us with those eyes that seem to say, “it’s okay, you can cry.” And we do. Their closeness and the warmth of those eyes comfort us. They make us feel loved, accepted, and understood. They’ve never said a word. They come, created by God, to comfort silently. And therein lies their wisdom.

The Journey Home

When I was a child, I loved Thursdays because that was the day in school when our class got to go to the library. When I scanned the shelves for a book, my criteria was a bit different from most kids. My book had to center around a dog, or dogs, the more the better. Old Yeller, Clifford The Big Red Dog, The Call Of The Wild were all childhood favorites. It was about the age of 11 when I first discovered The Incredible Journey by Sheila Burnford. I didn’t let the cat on the cover dissuade me, there were also two dogs on the front so the cat to dog ratio met my book selection criteria. I poured over every page, I swam across the muddy river, I winced as porcupine needles were tediously pulled from Luath’s infected jaw, and how can one hold back the tears as the animals lovingly bound into the arm’s of the family for whom they had endured so much to finally return? I thought such journey’s were only found in books until I recently read the story of Mason. This one was true and it really made me think about what it means to return “home”.

Mason is a scruffy, Benji-looking dog from North Smithfield, Alabama who found himself cowering in the corner of his families garage while tornado sirens wailed in the distance. As hail rained down and winds whipped this small southern town, the family frantically called to their dear friend but fear would not allow Mason to budge. Desperate to find cover as the tornado approached, they had to abandon their search and find safety for themselves. In a matter of minutes, nature’s fury subsided and the stunned family slowly emerged from their safe spot to find their home destroyed, their town lying in rubble and the garage that, unbeknownst to them, was the chosen refuge for Mason, totally wiped away. Once more, they called out for their dog hoping for that Incredible Journey ending; the sight of Mason leaping from among the rubble into their arms. But Mason, like the garage he once clung to, was gone.

For weeks, the family returned to their home, picking through remnants of their life, hoping to find a photograph or a treasured family heirloom or perhaps even Mason, miraculously clinging to life under a piece of furniture but the miracle was still too come. Three weeks after the devastation, the family returned to once again salvage what they could from their home when there, on the porch, was a bedraggled, dirty, weary scrap of a dog they called Mason. It was apparent that Mason had indeed returned from an incredible journey but amongst the joy and tears they realized that Mason had made that journey on two horribly mangled front legs. No one knows how long the journey was or what that journey entailed; no one knows the pain that Mason experienced, the hunger and the desperate longing for the people he most loved. What mattered was that Mason made it; he was home and there was incredible joy.

Where is our home? Is it the four walls with the 42” HD TV and leather sectional? The brick colonial with the two-car garage? Or is our home one that we’re still making our way towards? Our home here on earth is, at times, quite comfortable but other times we are faced with devastation and destruction. They whip up at a moments notice; a midnight phone call, an x-ray just back from the lab and suddenly, our home is turned upside down. Just when we think we will never recover, we again find some semblance of normalcy, the joy returns and we hunker down for the next big storm. It’s called life. And while it’s difficult at times, we always seem to pull ourselves up by our two good legs and move ourselves along. But the Bible reminds us that this is not all there is, “...just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.” (Rom. 6:4) Our true home is yet to come and it promises not to have the storms we experience while living in our three bedroom bungalow, “There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Rev. 21:4) Sounds like a good place to lay down roots. I’m sure, at times in his journey, Mason felt lost and alone but he knew there was a place waiting for him filled with the people he loved and plenty of comfort and security. That vision of home is what kept him moving forward. The happiness and joy that greeted him when he finally made it through the rubble gave him strength as if all of the pain had never happened. The destination made the journey worth every step. And an incredible one it was.

The Humility of Mud

I have a love/hate relationship with this time of year. I know, after all the snow, sleet, freezing rain and cold temps we’ve had lo’ these long winter months, I should embrace the occasional fifty degree day and I do, to an extent. My dog, Deion and I are enjoying the longer walks, I love the smell of spring in the air, my heart leaps at the first sign of daffodil greens poking out from the brown, winter worn earth.

Oh, the earth. This is where me and spring part ways. The earth in my yard, for the most part, is a muddy mess. Dog toys not seen since last November, suddenly crawl out of their winter hibernation beneath the snow and lie amongst the dead branches and water-soaked dog “treasures”. It’s not a pretty picture.

My dogs, God bless them, look at springs arrival a little differently.

Baci, my boxer mix, runs out the doors with wild abandon like the proverbial kid in a candy store. She darts from one muddy, disgusting toy to the next as if greeting old friends. She happily tosses the dried branches into the air and drags them about the yard. Deion wears a track next to the woodpile sniffing out the newly emerged critters. Non of this I would mind very much, in fact, I would delight in it if it wasn’t for the mud that I see flying around as they do it. The mud that, in a very short period of time, I will be desperately trying to get off of them before they get into the house. The mud that, however hard I might scrub, I know I will be mopping from the floor....again.

But yesterday, as I was straining once more with a towel in one hand and a mud soaked paw in the other, I thought about the extreme patience they had with me as I grabbed clumsily at each paw. It’s a fact that dogs do not like their paws touched. To a dog, grabbing their paw is quite rude actually. Just try grabbing a strange dogs leg....wait, no, if you value your fingers, don’t do it. Take my word for it. They don’t like it. So, for my two dogs to let me hold their paw long enough for me to get into every nook and cranny with a towel, takes extreme amounts of love and trust. I can tell they aren’t having fun and the feeling is mutual but its an agreement we come to with our dogs. You can live in my nice warm house, have plenty of good food and fresh water, toys, warm hugs, daily walks, but you need to be mud-free.

Then, I began to think about the humility of this whole experience and I began to consider the humble act of Jesus as he bent down to wash the feet of his disciples. How God’s son humbled himself and became a servant, saying to his disciples, “You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” (John 13: 13,14) Now granted, me washing my dog’s paws is not to teach them about humility and servitude; it’s about the preservation of my carpeting, but it is a humbling experience. We humans are often stronger, we can think logically and create cities of steel, we are masters of our domain yet we pick up our dogs doo, wash their feet, bathe them because, yes, we are clean by nature but also, we love them and so we care for them as Jesus did his disciples. Dogs humble us. I can’t help but think as they fly around the yard, enjoying these first warm days of spring, that maybe they have the right idea. Maybe I should be out there, running through the brown grass and kicking up mud. But then, who would wash my feet?

Chasing The Chipmunk

“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land; but if you resist and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword.” (Isaiah 1:18-20)

Charlie bounded down the trail like all good goofballs do. Mouth hanging open, tongue loose and free, eyes wide and focused straight ahead with no regard to his owner desperately trying to keep up. It was a crisp fall day and the trail at West Woods was deserted so it was a great opportunity to give Charlie some much needed off-leash time. He ran with abandon stopping only to take in the scent of some long since gone field mouse. Patty enjoyed watching Charlie explore his surroundings, unfettered by his 6 ft. leather leash. She imagined that in Charlie’s eyes, the woods was absolute nirvana. It was his chance to be dog in the true animal sense and not in the “off the couch, lay on your bed, drink from a bowl” family pet sense. At the moment, Charlie was an animal among kindred spirits.

Patty tried to stay close behind, always keeping Charlie in her field of vision. Charlie had a tendency to go off on a rabbit trail but would always double back at the sound of Patty’s voice. Charlie was granted this freedom because he always returned to Patty when she called. This was precisely the reason that it came as a shock to Patty when Charlie slipped out of her sight and did not respond to her voice. The calls were calm and assured at first and then began to take on the sound of desperation. She could hear Charlie barking in the distance but it was clear that Charlie could not hear her. Or did he care to. She tried to follow the direction of the barks but their echoes bounced off trees and she was afraid of straying too far off the path. She ran back down the trail hoping to find Charlie waiting by the car as she yelled, “Charlie! Go for a ride?!!” That was Patty’s emergency call that never failed to turn Charlie away from the closest squirrel and straight toward the hatchback of her SUV. She stood next to her car, her eyes darting desperately in every direction for her wayward friend.

It was evident that Charlie was no longer anywhere near the trail they had been on so she jumped in her vehicle and drove around the park; her eyes scanning the fields and trails for that unmistakable coat of gold. After an hour had passed, she pulled down one of roads that led to a second series of trails. As she turned a corner, she saw a woman crouched down with a walking stick in one hand and Charlie’s ID tag in the other. She struggled to read it between Charlie’s well-intentioned kisses. Patty immediately pulled to the side. Charlie recognized Patty the minute she stepped from the car, he knew her walk, the scent of her leather boots, and her unmistakable low alto voice. He leapt and danced as Patty approached. She was shocked at how a dog could get so covered in burrs, mud, and horse manure in such a short period of time. The mud and manure came off quite easily but Patty spent hours painstakingly picking out burrs imbedded in all the nooks and crannies of Charlie’s previously spotless, gloriously maned, frame.

Who can blame Charlie? He was only doing what his creator made him to do. Hunt and track and seek out wild game. When temptation came scurrying across the woodland floor disguised as a chipmunk, Charlie bolted. He wasn’t reasoning out the repercussions of straying from his “master”. He wasn’t thinking about the meals she’s provided that he’s never had to retrieve, the warm bed that’s always there waiting for him, her unfailing friendship. No. His mind was set on getting that one thing that he couldn’t have. Sound familiar?

Even with our superior reasoning capabilities, we often find ourselves falling into temptation’s trap. We dart off after the chipmunks of the world. The wants, the shiny things, the “big and better”. We forget Paul’s precious words in Philippians 4:12, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” Whatever situation in life we find ourselves, the devil slithers in and convinces us that we deserve more. Charlie’s act of defiance was driven by instinct but is that so different from how we were made? Weren’t we all born sinners? “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God....” (Rom. 3: 23) Even Adam and Eve were tempted in the forest and strayed. God knows the temptations we face, he lets us off leash to experience all the wonders and joy His creation has to offer. But we so often want more and in His love for us, He lets us go. So we bound off down the trail, our eyes straight ahead, never looking back to heed our Father’s voice. Once obtained, we find once again, what we thought we wanted and needed leaves us empty and unfulfilled. In His mercy and grace, He rescues us. He is faithful. “No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” (1 Cor. 10:13) We can never travel so deep into the woods of sin that God cannot give us a way out. Like Patty, he’s seeking us, calling us, following closely behind and is willing, through his love and grace, to painstakingly pick out each burr and tangle that we’ve picked up along the way. When we stop chasing the temptation and return to Him, he will wash us clean, make us new, and shower us with all the blessings we need. No matter where sin and temptation has taken us, our master is always ready to bring us home. “Even if you have been banished to the most distant land under the heavens, from there the Lord your God will gather you and bring you back.” (Deut. 30:4)

“But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart." (1Sam. 16:7)

He was intimidating. His 75 lb. sturdy frame stood poised at the front of the kennel. He was the epitome of strength and power and his very presence was unwelcome and banned from countless cities and counties across the country. His jaws, capable of crushing a man’s arm, hung open in a wide-mouth pant. He was a Pit Bull recently rescued from a dog fighting ring and his new name was Happy. I’m not sure what Happy’s fighting background was but I determined from his soft brown eyes and calm demeanor that fortunately for him, he probably wasn’t very good at it. Happy had successfully passed all of his temperament tests at the animal shelter with flying colors. The shelter staff could scratch his ears, poke their fingers into his mouth, wrap their arms around him and the only danger they faced was a face full of dog saliva. They could even bend down and join him in devouring a bowl of kibble if they were so inclined. He was a joy to be around and in time, became the favorite of all the volunteer dog walkers at the rescue center.

The public, however, saw the gaping jaw and squared head and hurried past Happy’s kennel. They warned their children not to stand too close to his cage, not to look at him and definitely, do not try to give him a treat from the small metal bowl filled with dog biscuits that was attached to the outside of his kennel. Happy barked and whined as he watched all the other dogs happily devouring biscuits offered from tiny, sticky fingers up and down the aisle. Staff and volunteers at the shelter began to worry about Happy. Some dogs that spend weeks and weeks at a shelter begin to spiral downhill psychologically so a decision was made to put Happy to work by including him in the shelter’s public obedience classes. Happy thoroughly enjoyed his once a week furlough. He learned to sit, come, heel, and walk calmly on a leash. He was a quick learner and attentive student as Pit Bulls tend to be, and he quickly moved through class, eventually even passing the Canine Good Citizen test. Despite the large plaque displaying his Canine Good Citizen diploma and the glowing remarks concerning Happy’s friendly and obedient nature from multiple staff and volunteers, the public continued to pass Happy by.

Happy watched as dog after dog left the shelter. People fell in love with the beagles and lab mixes and other seemingly “friendlier” breeds. These dogs got to go home to a bed, their own food bowl and warm lap every night. Happy however, was continually avoided because man, and woman, continued to, “...look on his appearance...” and “...the height of his stature”.

When we choose a friend, a mate, or a leader, we often look at the outward appearance. Who has God chosen to be his messengers? Who did God choose to lead and orchestrate his good and perfect will among men? David was the youngest boy, barely grown, in a family of strong, capable men. Moses was old, feeble, and by his own admission was "...not eloquent...slow of speech and of tongue". Mary was a 14 year-old peasant girl from a humble home. Is it so difficult then, for us to believe that a hero, a leader, or an earthly comforter could perhaps come in the form of a four-legged fur ball? Inside the heart of your neighbors toy poodle could lie the strength of a lion. Or in your German Shepherd, the warmth and compassion of Mother Theresa. God chooses the unremarkable. He elects the ordinary to do the extraordinary.

What we see isn’t always the truth. Eyes lie. We are often taken aback by the cruel actions of someone who “looked so nice”. We’re enamored and awed by athletes whose moral character shocks and disappoints us. We gravitate to the strong, thin, handsome or beautiful...someone who looks more capable than ourselves. Thankfully, God chooses us based on the condition of our hearts. God knew the tender, gentle heart that Happy possessed. After all, He created it. Dogs seem to get this. It’s the reason the smallest Pomeranian will playfully romp and nip at the largest Great Dane. Dogs are not constrained by the limitations of sight and perception but possess an amazing capacity for innate understanding and acceptance not for the way things appear but the way things are. They live out Isaiah 11:3 which states, “...and he will delight in the fear of the LORD. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears;”

Happy was fortunate to be surrounded by dog lovers who could look past Happy’s external image and see the loving, strong, capable dog that God had created Happy to be. Happy did find his forever home with a loving family who was willing to give Happy a chance. What Happy gives in return is a grateful heart and a wide gaping jaw full of sloppy, wet kisses.

Fear or Faith?

“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.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

“And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” (2 Cor. 9:8)

The GI Joe M3 Tank Destroyer. It came with a 12” GI Joe action figure, a 75 mm gun with elevation recoil action and operating breech. It had a working rear door, removeable gas can, flexible rolling rear tracks and the tools of any good military action figure, an axe and a shovel. It was everything a 10 year-old boy could hope for and as I listened to the pastor describe this Christmas gift he had dreamed of so many years ago, I could see his face light up, and the excitement of miniature military glory welled up inside of him all over again. He recounted his pleas to his parents, his letters to Santa, his frantic screams to his mother in the kitchen that would have her scrambling to rush and stop the blood that must be hemorrhaging from somewhere to elicit such a cry, only to find him pressed against the TV and pointing excitedly to the scenes of luckier boys than himself playing with the ultimate destroyer on the GI Joe commercial.

On Christmas morning, paper and boxes flew as he desperately sorted through new socks, a baseball bat, and a pair of pajamas to find the toy he had hoped and prayed to receive. It wasn’t there. He didn’t notice in all his hysteria, his father quietly slip out of the room and head for the garage. As he sat amongst everything that signified his dashed hopes and dreams, a black Lab puppy came bounding into the room. Our pastor smiled as he recalled Chance’s entrance and wondered if there was some misunderstanding on exactly what he meant when he pleaded for a “destroyer”. The puppy shredded paper, ran off with the newly opened socks, and preceded to do what puppies do. Although he was happy with his new puppy, it didn’t come with elevation recoil action.

It wasn’t what he wanted.

God is the master of patiently listening to our wants and desires. He sifts through them and some he blesses us with and some he does not. God’s focus is not what we want but what we need. “...for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matt. 6:8) Our pastor would discover over time that the puppy he named Chance, may not have been what he wanted then as a 10 year-old boy but over the years, this dog would fill his heart like no toy ever could. God’s desire is to fill our lives with abundant blessings that don’t always come in the form of worldly gadgets.

After all, how many toys that he would absolutely die without were already gathering dust under his bed? How many cars were lying at the bottom of his toy chest with 3 wheels and a broken door? They were all begged for and dreamed about but never quite followed through with the limitless joy and entertainment that the commercials promised. God’s promises are true. “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and future.’” (Jer. 29:11) The hope we have in Him is a hope that fulfills. His ultimate gift to us was his very own son, Jesus Christ. And that gift came so that we may have everything we need. Jesus himself said, “but few things are needed--or indeed only one.” (Luke 10:42) Jesus. He sacrificed all to give us what we need. Not a better car, a bigger house, although those things are nice and are blessings to us, but they are above and beyond what we need or even deserve.

Chance lived well into the pastor’s adult life. This warm and loyal black lab was a gift that continued to give when all the other toys and electronics had worn out, broke, or just weren’t cool anymore. It was a warm body that gave comfort through storms that raged outside his bedroom window or inside his heart. Like the great Comforter, who promises to never leave us or forsake us, that dog was an ever present symbol of love and unconditional affection. The puppy that bounded in wasn’t asked for but aren’t those sometimes God’s greatest gifts to us? The one’s that come unexpected and undeserved? When we really think about it, aren’t the things that we desire often empty and disappointing? Trust that God knows what you need. Be grateful. Know that God hears your prayers and will meet your needs. And don’t be surprised if those “needs” come wrapped in fur and wagging a tail.

Be Still...

“He says, ‘Be still, and know that I am God;’” (Ps. 46:10)

My dogs are a wealth of information. As I stated in a previous article a few months back, they continually reveal God’s truth to me in quiet moments when I’m perceptive enough to listen to their silent speech. One of these moments happened the other evening as I prepared to turn in for the night.

Dogs are creatures of habit and my dogs, Deion and Bacetti, are no exception. They know that anytime between 9:30pm and 10:00pm, I call it quits, grab their dog beds and head up the stairs. If, for some reason, I’m feeling extra saucy, I may even stay up until 11:00pm and that drives them batty. They pace and stare at me like somehow the planets have become misaligned and I really should do something about it. But this night, I was right on schedule and they raced ahead of me in happy anticipation of the sleep that awaited them and all was right with the world. I tossed their beds on their respective spots on the floor and decided to give my daughter one last “goodnight”, so I closed the door behind me and headed to her room. Well, the “goodnight” turned into a chat and before I knew it, twenty minutes had passed, that’s all it was, twenty short minutes but when I opened the door, you would have thought I had circumnavigated the globe. To Deion, at least. I heard him whining before I even opened my bedroom door and when I finally did, he was standing right there, ears alert, his stub of a tail wagging and a nervous look in his eye. He danced around me as I walked in and followed me around my room, watching my every move to make sure that this time I was, indeed, settling in for the night. He made sure the extra pillows were tossed on the chair, the comforter was folded back, before he decided that yes, I was going to bed now and it was safe for him to fluff his bed, spin in a couple of circles and plop his big frame into his doggy bed.

Then there was Baci. As I entered the room, she slowly lifted her head, looked over and welcomed me with a couple of tail wags and gently laid her head back down on her bed. There was never any doubt in her mind of my return. She heard my footsteps, my voice down the hall, and knew that while I may have stepped out of her range of vision temporarily, I was never very far and I would return. I hadn’t forgotten about her, or Deion, or our plans for a good night sleep. I smiled as I looked over at Baci; so relaxed and content. Then I glanced over at Deion, lying down but still staring at me.

Which dog am I?

When I call on God, am I Deion? Do I pray then stand at the door, heart racing, pacing back in forth saying, “okay God, now? How about...now? Are you there? Any time now...” Or am I like Baci? Do I follow my prayer with patient quietness, knowing that God has heard me and in his perfect timing, maybe not today, maybe not next year, but I will experience the answer to my prayer?

“....you need only to be still.” (Ex. 14:14), “Be still,..” (Neh. 8:11), “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;” (Ps. 37:7), “He says, ‘Be still, and know that I am God;’” (Ps. 46:10), “‘...cease and be still.’” (Jer. 47:6) and so it goes. I know that God has heard me yet I worry and the parade of “but what if’s....” continue. Like Deion, I stand impatiently, eyes wide, heart racing, and occasionally scratch at the door just in case He’s forgotten I’m here but deep down, I know he hasn’t. He’s just on the other side, working things out in His time. His will is being done whether I’m raising my blood pressure, whining at the door or simply relaxing on the couch and enjoying life. One behavior says, “I trust you but....”, the other, “I trust you.” The end result is always the same. He has listened. He will act. In His own time. So, I might as well stand up, return to a comfy place, circle a few times, and be still.