“If only you had paid attention to my commands, your peace would have been like a river, your well-being like the waves of the sea.” Isaiah 48:18 (NLT)
I live with a dog. His name is Fenryr, and he is a 120-pound Norwegian Elkhound. He’s a huge, fluffy, fur ball, and I love him. I don’t own the dog–he belongs to my niece, Maria, and this arrangement has definite advantages for me. I get to have all the fun parts of dog owning—companionship, soft fur to pet, playing and so on—without the work. I don’t have to feed him or walk him or clean up after him when he does his business. It’s kind of like being a grandparent—when the baby cries, back to Momma he goes.
Though I love my granddog dearly, I have no illusions about his intelligence. He has trouble consistently following the rules. Sometimes he’s so obedient it could make you cry tears of pride. Like when it’s time to go outside, and Maria tells him to wait as she opens the door. He just sits there by the open door, desperate to go out, but waiting so patiently. Yes, that’s definitely a proud grandmother moment.
But other times, no, not so much. Such as when he decides that the neighbor in the yard across the street is a dangerous villain who must be scared off by non-stop barking. And so he barks, and barks, and barks…and keeps on barking.
“Fenryr, would you be quiet!”
Sigh.
The other day I watched Maria trying to call Fenryr in from the back yard. Over and over, she called his name. Finally, after she offered him a bribe (a dog bone) he came, reluctantly, to the door. And I realized that sometimes I’m just like the dog. Perhaps God feels the same frustration with me that I sometimes feel with Fenryr. In many ways, I act like the dog:
God says NO, I do it anyway.
God says STOP, I keep going.
God says COME HERE, I run away.
God says STAY, I wander off.
God says WAIT, I get impatient.
Over and over again, I find myself disobeying God. Sometimes it’s little things, like not trusting, worrying about the future, or forgetting to go to God in prayer when I need help or guidance. But, I have trouble with the big things, too , like when I lose my temper in traffic and drive aggressively or I snap mean words at my daughter impatiently.
I whine, I complain, I argue. I get hurt, I get angry, and I blame God for a bad thing that happens. I don’t want to face the consequences of my actions. I am headstrong; I want my own way.
Sometimes I think that the dog and I both need to go to obedience school for training: Fenryr to learn to follow the rules, and me to learn how to live the way God wants me to.
Because, didn’t I give my life to God when I accepted Jesus as my Savior? Didn’t I acknowledge that God knows what’s best for me in that moment? So giving him control, obeying him in all I do—isn’t that what I wanted in the first place?
There used to be another dog in my life; one that wasn’t as oblivious as Fenryr. Her name was Molly the Prayer Tent Dog. She was a yellow Labrador Retriever, and she was obedient. As long as there was a baseball around, she would stay nearby. She loved her baseball with all her heart. She was completely devoted to it. She kept her eye on that ball, always went where the ball went. When it was thrown, she followed. When it was laid down on the ground, she lay right there with it.
She gave me an example of how I am to be:
- She was always smiling (“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” Philippians 4:4)
- She kept her eye on the ball (“We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.” Hebrews 12:2a)
- She came when she was called (“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28)
There’s hope for me, I know. I’m not always like Fenryr. Sometimes I’m like Molly the Prayer Tent Dog. I try to be obedient. I try to live as God wants me to live.
After all, I love him with all my heart. Jesus is my baseball.
So, from today onward,
When God says “come” I will come running.
When God says “stay” I will wait patiently.
When God says “go” I will go quickly.
When God says “Do” I will do what he says.
At least, I’ll try.
The View from Mt. Hope 