Last night’s walk with Jack was like a worship experience. After an overcast day, the sky had cleared and the stars were brilliant, making me catch my breath and thank God. I was glad I owned a dog, because without him, I wouldn’t have been out strolling at midnight.
I usually enjoy walking Jack, but not on days like today when it was raining, and I’d just finished doing my hair for church. On those days we walk a new way: I drive, he runs alongside. Through the window I encourage him to stay nearby, and off we go on the quiet neighborhood streets.
This morning I drove to the beach and back while Jack loped next to the car. He got his exercise, and I kept my hairdo.
A while ago, however, Jack and I were driving-walking when he saw a group of white-tail deer in the woods and gave chase. I never worry about the deer, because they bound up sand dunes in massive leaps that quickly leave short doggy-steps behind. What concerns me is getting Jack back.
He knows the way home, but what kind of trouble might he find en route? This day when I called him, he emerged from the woods with what resembled a big cigar in his mouth. As he came closer, I saw it was a full stick of butter.
I don’t know where he found it, but I got a quick visual of diarrhea in the basement and knew I needed to take it away from him. I got out of the car, grabbed a plastic bag from under the seat and rattled it like it was lunch meat. “Jack! Mmmm! Yummy! How ‘bout a treat?” He came right to me and dropped the butter (for his treat) just long enough for me to reach around and grab it. Poor Jack. His prize got stolen, and he was duped in the process.
This is a perfect illustration of the way we reject God’s counsel in favor of our own. He says, “You’ll be sorry if you ‘eat that butter’.” But we grab it like a magnet grabs the fridge, thinking we know better. So he takes a step back and says, “Ok. Have it your way.”
As we run off, we barely hear him say, “I’ll be here if you need me.” And of course we always do.
On “Butter Day,” I put a dejected Jack into the car and drove him home. But first thing, I gave him a double treat, the doggie kind, wanting to make good on my word.
God never fails to make good on his word. After we’ve “eaten our butter,” in the midst of a belly ache and a sincere vow to heed his advice next time, he lets us begin anew.
Then after we’ve had enough butter and belly aches, finally we learn.
”The simple are killed by their turning away… but whoever listens to Me will dwell secure and will be at ease, without dread of disaster.” (Proverbs 1:32-33)
