CHAPTER 1
Let Sleeping Dogs ... DREAM!
Awake, awake, arm of the Lord, clothe yourself with strength! Awake, as in days gone by, as in generations of old.
— Isaiah 51:9
Some days, Daisy, our three-legged Dalmatian, is curled in sound sleep, when Henry, the miniature schnauzer, comes along to torment her with a curious sniff. Henry's curiosity and agitation can rouse Daisy from a dead sleep to a ferocious attack in zero to six seconds.
As humans, we have a metaphoric sleep as well, spending a lot of time in a comfortable "coast" in life's holding pattern. We fail to live up to our potential and forget to heed our calling. We need to be awakened to a fresh new life, without taking the heads off those around us, being jolted, as it were, out of our day-to-day rut. How to respond? How do we change and become fully aware and awake? We have to let go of the old habits and let ourselves forge a new path in obedience. When we empty ourselves of the world, we can be filled with God's light. We must let go of comfort — something that can be truly terrifying.
When you see a sleeping dog lash out, it's not usually out of a mean spirit. It's out of fear. We react just as ferociously as a sleeping dog sometimes because we are afraid to become new — afraid to become God's full potential for us.
On this first day of the year, let us wake up into a new day, where we have love all around us to encourage us. Let last night's nightmare fall away and become today's glorious dream. Be courageous in God's new world for you! — d.o.
CHAPTER 2
Pink Slips and Chew Bones
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
— Philemon 1:3
I watched the golden retriever I had fostered for six months ride away with her new "mommy" as she stared at me through the back windshield of that little red Honda. She had come such a long way from the frightened abuse victim placed in my care. Her eyes never left me as the car left for the horizon. There was a chew bone in her mouth. Her tail was wagging. This dog knew she was going to a new home. Yet, somehow, she wanted to let me know she was grateful. She knew the dark place she'd come from and where she was now going, and I was just the spot in between.
Some things are not meant to be forever. They are just meant to get us there. Every friendship, every job, every place we live, is just a bridge to learning something we need in order to become who we are to be. People leave us because their part in our journey is finished. We never complete anything without having a lesson to be learned. Good-byes always leave us with a piece missing, don't they? Change is always difficult.
If you are saying good-bye to someone, something, or some place, reflect on what you have gained from the time you have spent. Let it be woven into the fabric of who you are becoming. Just remember, nothing is taken without being replaced by more of what you need. Just as I had been a temporary caregiver for that beautiful golden retriever, she now has a permanent place to curl up and call home. Say good-bye with grace and hello with hope, and leave with a lesson. Nothing leaves until it is time to let go. Accepting loss only comes with God's help and the wisdom of time. — d.o.
CHAPTER 3
You Can't Judge a Cocker by Its Spaniel
When they go with their flocks and herds to seek the Lord, they will not find him; he has withdrawn himself from them.
— Hosea 5:6
Outward appearances can sometimes be very deceiving. As a shelter volunteer, I soon learned that the most evil-looking dogs were sometimes the biggest sweethearts. And then, there were the cocker spaniels. They had those beautiful brown eyes. Visions of Lady and the Tramp came to mind as I would reach to pet them.
With one unanticipated sharp growl, I would get bitten. I was not prepared to be bitten by an animal that was cute. This was a breed that had been animated in Disney movies, for goodness' sake! This misperception happened more than once. The adorable toy breeds would growl and snap with no provocation, while the pit bulls and Dobermans would roll around on the floor with me in play. This is by no means a criticism of any breed, just an observation that outward appearances and public opinion can be wrong.
In ancient times, some Israelites spoke highly of God, while worshiping pagan gods on the side. The Israelites were spiritually hedging their bets, so to speak. Well, it didn't work with God. And hedging bets didn't work with me either at the animal shelter. I stopped trusting those sweet, sad eyes until I knew for sure that the animal in front of me was trustworthy. And I was delighted to find cocker spaniels who were.
If we put our faith in gods that can't be trusted, we can get bitten. But we forget that and often put our faith in careers, money, or material possessions because they look at us with their beautiful brown eyes. Then, when we are least expecting it, they turn and bite us, leaving us wounded and with destroyed spirits. But we have God who loves us always and who knows our hearts. — d.o.
CHAPTER 4
Jack Loves Veronique
Though we stumble, we shall not fall headlong, for the LORD holds us by the hand.
— Psalm 37:24
Our dog Jack fell in love with Veronique the day we brought her home, and she adored him. A full-grown Pyrenees-collie can be as intimidating as a polar bear, with a bark that thunders across the valley, but he was gentle as a lamb with the new collie pup. She jumped and nipped and yapped at Jack playfully, and he would look up at us with a twinkle in his eye that seemed to say, "She's pesky, but she sure is cute!"
Overnight, it seemed Veronique was tall enough to reach the latch on the front door. One day, we were all at home when a neighbor called to say he had our collie; she had been hit by a car. We didn't even know she'd gotten out! He drove her to us, and we rushed her to the emergency vet. Her pelvic bone was broken, but it would mend without surgery.
Our neighbor felt bad. I felt bad. Jack felt bad. Our neighbor was a kind man who had seen Jack and Veronique running around, playing as though on a big adventure. They were having such a great time that he was going to let them play before he checked their collars for a number to call. Then a car rounded the bend just as Veronique shot out of the woods. Both neighbor and Jack froze with fright as they watched the inevitable collision.
Jack was beside himself for days, until at last he could see that Veronique was going to be all right. She could barely lift her head, but she managed to give Jack a lick on the nose so he wouldn't worry. Jack seemed sorry for not taking better care of his girl, for leading her to a dangerous place. And I learned, too, to keep the door locked even though Veronique no longer tries to dash past the threshold before I've given the okay.
We make mistakes. And sometimes our mistakes hurt the ones we love. But we don't have to keep making the same mistakes. God helps us when we stumble, and that's how we grow in grace! — k.m.
CHAPTER 5
Divine Placement
Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.
— Psalm 62:1-2
My dog Winston, a miniature schnauzer, used to wait on the left side of the sofa on his towel while I was at work. I would say good-bye and leave, and he'd hop to his place and wait until I returned. He'd be sitting right there in his spot when I opened the door. He'd perk up as I walked in, and when I gave the word, he'd run to me for hugs and kisses. Now maybe he wasn't there all day, but I have a mental picture of him waiting patiently and quietly until I returned to give him food, exercise, and love. He trusted that I would return, and he trusted that I would meet all his needs.
Even when other dogs entered our family, that spot on the sofa remained Winston's. Excitement, visitors, and hyper moments did not move Winston from his place. The other dogs could not get him to budge. I had given him a "place" and that's where he waited to hear from me.
I've had many dogs, but none ever understood the concept of "place" like Winston. He knew if he waited for my word, his rewards would be great. He accepted that waiting in his place was a good thing.
Patience to wait in our "place" given by God is not a common attribute. We are nudged from our place by peer pressure and people who want company in whatever they are doing. We get in a hurry to move or experience instant gratification, when real love is just about to walk through the door.
When we feel the fast-moving stomach-tightening anxiety urging us to be moving instead of waiting, let us just be still. Let us wait. The real voice we wait for is that of our Master. Waiting is not always easy, but when we are waiting on God, we will always find a blessing meant just for us. — d.o.
CHAPTER 6
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.
CHAPTER 7
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.
CHAPTER 8
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.
CHAPTER 9
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.
