I have two dogs. Scooter is a wonderful older gentleman, a
Welsh Terrier with manners from the old country.
Then there’s Maggie. Maggie is a terrier mix rescued off the streets of Houston–scared, bedraggled, and pregnant. She is a truly lovely dog, sweet and smart, still cute and puppyish. The only issue I have with her is this–when I am trying to put leashes on both dogs in the morning to take our daily walk, Maggie gets so excited she makes it nearly impossible to get out the door. Maybe it’s an attachment issue from her troubled past. While this hubbub is going on, Scooter just raises his eyebrows and looks at me as if to say, “Oh brother, not this again.”
These two creatures have given me much revelation about myself, about God, and about my relationship with Him.
I act just like Maggie toward God sometimes. I want him to do something so badly, to “get on with it” (whatever “it” is) that I ironically make it more difficult for him to work things out for my good. People around me (mostly my husband) must put up with my restlessness and impatience—like Scooter must put up with Maggie because she’s his baby sister. Sometimes this behavior is a not-so-subtle form of unbelief—a lack of trust my heavenly Master really has a plan and purpose I don’t yet see fully.
I wonder if the Lord raises his eyebrows in aggravation. I have been in a relationship with Him long enough to know and celebrate He’s in charge and takes very good care of my needs. But…sometimes he does make me wait. And…sometimes I don’t handle the waiting very well. Just as I am training Maggie to wait, I sense God is daily training me.
David wrote in Psalm 131 (TPT):
Lord, my heart is meek before you.
I don’t consider myself better than others.
I’m content to not pursue matters that are over my head—
such as your complex mysteries and wonders—
that I’m not yet ready to understand.
I am humbled and quieted in your presence.
Like a contented child who rests on its mother’s lap,
I’m your resting child and my soul is content in you.
We are not to decide when and where God takes us, or strain to get ahead of him as we walk together. Thank you, my sweet dog friends, for teaching me this lesson.