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Good Dogs
See, he is puffed up; his desires are not upright— but the righteous will live by his faith.
—Habakkuk 2:4 NIV
When one of our dogs gets a “that-a-boy” or a “good-girl,” they prance around the yard, step a little higher, noses in the air. They have doggie pride. It’s the pride of love and self-giving—a serving heart. That kind of pride reminds me of the scripture verse above from Habakkuk. When your dog fetches a Frisbee, or comes when you call, or does his business outside instead of on the carpet in the back bedroom, he is pleased to please you, as though he didn’t even know he could be so good. He’s been good, “upright,” you might say, because you’ve guided him, not because he knew how to please you on his own. He would have been perfectly happy to poop on the carpet, until you taught him to do otherwise. He has faith in your guidance. He has faith in you because he loves you. He doesn’t know that he owes you. So, his righteousness is in being rightly related to his keeper—you.
We can learn from those “good dogs.” On a profound level they can teach us something about a servant’s heart, about pure motives and actions that are filled with gratitude. Love need not be mingled with self-centered pride. Real love is infused with faith. Your dog has a love-infused faith in you. And you, a love-infused faith in God. Our right relationship with God empowers us to love others with God’s love, and all that right-relatedness is what righteousness is all about.
The miracle of God’s love is made clear through the gift of Jesus. In love, he emptied himself in the ultimate sacrifice of self (Philippians 2:5-11).
Today, I will have faith in God to put pure, righteous love in my heart.—k.m.
One Voice
Listen to what the LORD says: “Stand up, plead my case before the mountains; let the hills hear what you have to say.”
—Micah 6:1
The Great Pyrenees is a dog whose breed originated in the mountain regions of France as far back as 1800 b.c. They are often used to shepherd sheep. These dogs have a heavy double coat that enables them to be an effective deterrent to predators of sheep or goats.
Our family decided we needed a Pyrenees to help protect our farm from coyotes, so we located a rescue that had Great Pyrenees-collie mix puppies, where we picked out Jack, a little fluffy teddy bear. That small, cuddly stage lasted about a week. Pretty soon his feet were the size of feed buckets and his head was about the size of a garbage can lid. As we began to train him, we realized this big animal’s feelings were easily hurt. He would literally become embarrassed at each correction, bury his big old head in his gigantic paws and cry. Some guard dog, we thought.
Then something happened. Instinct began to kick in, and this hairy beast began to run sentry around the outer edge of our farm. His baritone bellowing intimidated the coyotes, keeping them away from the farm.
Jack’s bark was his greatest weapon against the coyote packs. When his voice echoed across the valley, he sounded eight feet tall. When Jack was healing from hot spots and had to wear a bell collar, he seemed thrilled with the effect of his voice, magnified to huge megaphone proportions. Jack literally sang across the valley, enjoying the power amplified by the huge plastic collar.
As children of God, sometimes we are called to sit quietly waiting for God’s instruction. But other times we are called to boldness, to use our voice to stand up for what we believe in and to make our beliefs known. Then our voice, like Jack’s with the coyotes, can be used for good.—d.o.
Daisy the Wonder Dog
I believe; help my unbelief!
—Mark 9:24b
I met Daisy the three-legged Dalmatian long after the trauma that caused her handicap and nearly cost her life. For the first time, when I heard her story, I realized how cruel people can be, how apathetic. I met her after someone ran over her and left her. It was also clear she had been abused. A tight chain had been around her neck for so long that it was embedded and infected. If my friend and cowriter Devon had not come along that road when she did, Daisy would have died. It was touch and go for many weeks. But she survived, and now she can run as fast on those three legs as the other dogs can. She’s an amazing story. She’s Daisy the Wonder Dog.
She’s a bit edgy, as you can imagine. Her battle scars are not only physical. When we were first getting to know each other, she had to learn how to trust me. She was comfortable enough with me, but I quickly learned to be a little extra gentle with her so she wouldn’t think I was going to hit her or punish her unfairly. Slowly she began to expect love rather than abuse from me.
She wants to believe in human kindness. When I pet her, she casts her big brown eyes up at me and makes the effort to wag her tail (which is not so easy when you are missing a hind leg), as if to say, “I believe in you, that you will be good to me. Help me even when I don’t believe.”
“I believe; help my unbelief.” Those are the words spoken to Jesus in Mark’s Gospel. Sometimes our faith and doubts live inside us at the same time, but if we love one another, faith will overcome in the end, with comfort, grace, and forgiveness. Daisy has helped my unbelief turn to faith, by her own growing faith in us.—k.m.
Grrrrrrr!
Seek good, not evil, that you may live. Then the LORD God Almighty will be with you, just as you say he is.
—Amos 5:14
Animals are like good-and-evil meters. Have you ever noticed that? Animals respond to innate goodness and innate evil.
I had a Great Dane named Sophie who was the biggest, goofiest dog in the world. She was a comedienne with feet the size of my hands. This dog got her head stuck in garbage pails, sat on a chair like a human with her legs crossed, and howled musically every time I sang. Sophie was just a big cuddle bug and loved everyone.
Then, one day we were out walking, and a maintenance man from our neighborhood association approached us. He always gave me a creepy feeling, as if he were watching me. My spirit kept warning me, but I ignored the feelings.
When the man got closer, Sophie pulled ahead of me and stood between him and me. Her hackles raised, a deep guttural growl began, and she turned into a wild woman! The man froze. I thought my “gentle giant” was going to have this man for lunch. A few weeks later, I was told he was arrested for breaking and entering some of the homes in the neighborhood.
People have built-in good-and-evil meters too. The Holy Spirit in us tells us about others, but also ourselves: where we belong or what places we should avoid, which might be harmful. He doesn’t ever change those standards of the meter. He’ll never order us to drop our integrity standards because business is business. He doesn’t ever tell us to go into debt and not pay our bills to be closer to him. He does not ever tell us to be harsh to our children to make them better people. What he does tell us, that interior meter, is to seek good, always. And when we seek good, we find it.—d.o.
Fearless Faith
Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.
—Isaiah 41:10
