Monday, October 19, 2009

Going to the Dogs

Interesting thing -- I was just in the kitchen pouring myself a cup of coffee, and both dogs were sitting there, eyes wide, ears perked, backs straight; their gaze never left me as I moved through the kitchen.  It doesn't take a dog owner to recognize this posture as "The Beg."  Funny thing is, I had nothing for them.  Sure they probably would have lapped up any creamer, or even coffee that I spilled on the floor, but there was nothing to fill their perpetually hungry bellies.  But, there they were -- sitting on the cold, hard floor, at full attention and ready for anything that might come their way.  I am sure, that if I were to leave my desk and walk to the kitchen even now, Bishop would leave his comfortable spot on the carpet at my feet and Belle would come tearing down the stairs from her warm place at the foot of Christine's bed, just to follow, beg and await whatever I had for them.  No matter how many times I went through the routine, they would be there -- following, begging, waiting.

I love my dogs, but the simple fact is, they are "just dogs."  They do not share the same place in my heart with my children, they do not garner the same respect that I give my husband, they do not occupy the same place at my table that I would give a guest in my home.  Nevertheless, they know what I can provide for them, they know what I have to offer, and they never fail to seek it -- religiously.

Therein lies the gnawing conviction -- do I seek my Father, my Savior, my Jehovah Jire in the same way my dogs faithfully, urgently, hopefully seek the smallest crumb that falls from my hand?  Do I grab hold of God, wrestling with Him even in pain and fatigue as Jacob did? ( Genesis 32:24-32)  Would I persist with the faith of a Canaanite woman, happy with the crumbs from my Lord's table? (Matthew 15:21-28)  Do I, like my dogs, seek more even after I have received my daily portion?  Do I want to be hopelessly, eternally, exclusively reliant on Jesus Christ for all that I have and all that I am?  Do I want to die to self in such a way that my sole purpose in life, the reason I write every letter, speak every word, execute every deed is to serve and please my Master?  Is my longing to fill every empty place in my life with that which He provides, as intense as the yearnings of my dogs to have that "full" feeling all the time?  Am I sitting at my Father's feet, ready and willing, afraid to blink for fear I will miss whatever my Father has for me?

I guess, sometimes, you can learn a lot from a dog -- or two.
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