Thu, Oct 7th - 3:03PM
Lessons From Our Dogs
years ago I remember when my kids were old enough to go squirrel hunting with
me. They individually expressed an
interest in going with me, so I made it a special event. I took them out one at a time on three separate
occasions; one of those father/daughter trips good authors make a living
would get up early and head for the woods in the dark, arriving just as the
woodland creatures were beginning to stir. I told each one of the children in turn to pay close
attention to my directions. Specifically, I told them that if I said “Don't move!”, they were to
freeze instantly in place.
I told them there were snakes in
the woods, (Missouri/Kansas) and I might have to order them to do something, or
not to do something, that they might not understand. I told them not to ever question me about an order, but to
obey me instantly! I said I’d
explain it all to them later, when we had the time. Then we practiced how they would instantly obey my
orders. It was a game to them, but
I was deadly serious. On those
outings, my children had fun, and nobody got bitten by the copperheads. They obeyed, and their ability to obey
was an honor for each of them.
But we American adults are like
children without honor. We whine
and complain about nearly every aspect of our lives – I’m talking to professing
Christians here – and if (God forbid!) God would actually order us to do
something, or refrain from doing something, we ask “Why?” instead of instantly obeying. We actually demand to understand before
we commit to obedience. Is it any
wonder why we get “snake” bit? Why
is it we are blind to our own arrogance when we demand understanding before
obedience? Perhaps we don't see
our responses as demands, but they are.
I think the underlying issue has
always been rebellion, plain and simple. While we pay lip service to “serving God”, we’re demanding that He serve
us. How dare God request (order)
us to give up something we like? Would
a good God do that? Would I be a
bad father to order my child not to play with the pretty snake under the
rock? If I had to raise my voice
and risk hurting their feelings, would I be a cruel father? Would my order be misconstrued as
unloving? Sadly, within the
confines of real time and space, rather than this essay, the answer is often
I think we are dealing with two issues:
rebellion and trust, and as long as we give a home to rebellion, we won't have
any room for trust. We gravitate
to rebellion (or whatever we like to call it), and refuse to trust God until He
proves Himself to us – over and over. Frankly, if I were God, I would have more hope in my dog. Which brings up a point I’d like to
Some modern churches are fond of
catchy slogans they proudly post on their signage. I suppose the signage is supposed to take the place of
evangelism – sort of a 24-hour pastor – he never sleeps….
I’m sure you’ve seen the same one I
have: “Be the person your dog thinks you are”. Well, that’s catchy, but the real point is the other way
around. That sign should read: “If
your dog acted towards you the way you act towards God, he’d be up for
adoption”. And honestly, my
dog obeys me much better than I obey God.
For my dog, obedience was a learned
response, but he did learn it, and it wasn’t easy for either of us while he
did. My dog trusts me
completely. Again, he learned that
too. And my dog hears MY voice;
now he also hears other voices, but he obeys mine. My dog knows he belongs to me, and never doubts it. And here’s the clincher: my dog knows I
am the boss, and he is NOT. And it is because of all this that I also learned to trust my dog! See the point?
In these End Times, with the world
around us spiraling into Bible prophecy, perhaps we should at least try to
learn some lessons from our dogs.
God is King – we are NOT.