"The eyes of the LORD are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good." Proverbs 15:3
I have a really old dog. He is sweet, but he stinks. Literally. He smells bad. He has bad breath and a skin condition that causes him to have a constant aroma… And it’s not a good one. Additionally, he has also been known, on occasion, to have gas, so you can imagine the combination of these three things makes him a less than pleasant companion (as far as scent goes). Once you get past the odor though, you realize that he really is a sweet little guy.
Well, at least to his family; those who love him and are loved by him.
Other people might not see him as sweet, because he barks… A lot… But only at strangers. He has never loved “strangers'' (By strangers I mean anyone who does not exist in our immediate family). He has always been a bit nippy and barky when people invade his territory. I’m sure our household visitors don’t like it. I would not like it if someone’s dog behaved the way my dog does. So, when we have company (of one or more persons), I will put him in my bedroom and shut the door. This doesn't deter the barking, it just mutes the sound making it less distressing (but more annoying) to almost everyone.
Having said all that, stinking and barking aside, he really is a loving little pooch.
I’ve written about my dog here before in a post called Dog Days. If you haven’t already read it, please feel free to do so. It is about a lesson I learned through my dog. And this post will be much the same. New lesson, same old dog. It is amazing what we can learn from animals especially those that we choose to bring into our homes and treat as a member of the family; an honorary human on four legs.
I’ve often thought about how strange the concept of owning a pet is.... When you really think about it, it’s weird. These little creatures exist and we make a choice to bring them into our homes. They don’t speak our language and they are primarily dependent on us for their survival, but we, nevertheless, bring them in, shelter them, feed them, care for them and give them medical attention if needed.
When there lives to come to an end, we cry and feel a lonely grief in their absence. We make plaques to them, take pictures of them and even commemorate them.
This relationship is, of course, not one sided. These creatures express love to us and give us physical affection. They are happy to see us when we come home and are eager to please us. They sleep in our beds, curl up in our laps, and give us an unconditional shoulder to cry on. It is this strange and beautiful symbiotic relationship.
Recently my little dog has sustained a minor injury. He is over 100 years old in people-years, so this is bound to happen sooner or later. His recent injury has caused him to be unable to climb the stairs in our house independently. He requires our assistance whenever he needs to go from upstairs to downstairs and vice-versa. For the most part, we are always happy and able to accommodate him in this. However, the dilemma this has caused is incredibly interesting.
At the bottom of our stairs I have placed a “baby-gate” in case he begins to feel brave and forgets that, even though he may clear the first two or three stairs, after that he will become high-centered and have to wait for rescue. The baby-gate keeps him on the first story of our home until he can hitch a ride with someone going upstairs. When this becomes interesting is when he finds himself downstairs, alone…
Now in the past, when he had unlimited access to the stairs, he was often alone downstairs and didn’t seem to care about it at all. Now, when he is downstairs alone, it evokes the most sad a pathetic ritual of barking and whining that I have ever heard. You would think that he was lost and alone a million miles from home. He stands at the bottom of the stairs and brokenheartedly gazes up until someone takes pity and comes back downstairs to keep him company. Then, literally, as soon as someone appears, his barks and cries cease and he is perfectly happy again.
He is so spoiled!
And we love him so much that we allow ourselves to be manipulated by this behavior,
How often are we this little dog? Content in the attention and companionship of others or absolutely bereft in our aloneness…
Granted, we love our humans, just like my dog loves his. We want to be in the presence of those we love and those who love us. It gives us comfort. It gives us contentment and a sense of safety and well-being. Our people know what we need and how to give it to us. Just like I know what my dog needs when he’s barking at the bottom of the stairs. His communication is different than if he needed to go outside, eat his dinner or was ready for bed. He has learned the most effective way to get his needs met by those who can meet that need.
I know I am like my dog more than I’d like to admit. There are times when I need attention from the people around me. Often, I am able to recognize what I want or need and I can text a friend and suggest we go to coffee. Or I can invite my family to dinner. I can take my daughter to the nail salon or my boys to the arcade. But all too often, I don’t recognize my needs. All too often, I start barking and whining at those around me.
I become snippy with my coworkers (bark) or I complain about my boss (whine). I lose my temper with my family over minor annoyances (bark, bark). I intentionally avoid a text message (whine, whine). I talk badly about someone who has mistreated me (bark, bark, whine, bark). I avoid a difficult conversation (whimper)... It is all manipulation. I may not recognize it as that, but it is what it is.
Unlike my dog though, I don’t get the desired results. My friends and family don’t recognize the desires I have that are going unfulfilled. When I’m using unpleasant tactics, all they recognize is the unpleasantness. Instead of drawing them to me, I repel them. And this causes a vicious circle of events. My needs continue to go unmet. I get the opposite of my desired result.
I have to wonder what our unfulfilled desires look like to our Heavenly Father.
I have to wonder if our whimpers, whines and barks are hard on his ears… I don’t know about that, but what I do know is that it’s hard in his heart. In the same way that my dog’s barking at the bottom of my stairs stirs my heart, our pleas and cries stir God’s heart. Don’t get me wrong. Our whimpers don’t manipulate God. He is above that. He will not be persuaded by our bratty behavior. However, he is moved by our suffering no matter how small.
His heart is so in-tune with us, he knows our desires before we know them. He knows if they will go unmet. He knows how our problems will be resolved, or if they are resolved at all.
I have to think of Jesus on the cross. He has been betrayed, wrongly imprisoned, tortured, mocked and abandoned by the people who are supposed to love him. He is literally nailed to a cross between two robbers and is suffering an excruciating death by asphyxiation. He takes all of his strength to breathe in an agonizing breath, calling out, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” which means “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” He is calling out to his father to be rescued from his pain. His broken heart is calling out to the God who sees, pleading to be seen, saved, delivered from his suffering.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not comparing my dog’s suffering at the bottom of the stairs as an equal to Christ’s suffering on the cross. I am also not comparing my own (or your) suffering to that of Jesus. But what I am comparing here, is that it is the same God.
Jesus cries out to the same God from the cross that we cry out to when we lose a job or have a heartbreak or are lonely or confused or angry or sad. He is the God who sees, El Roi. God sees your suffering, just like he saw Jesus on the cross. He knows when your heart breaks and it breaks his heart, too. He may seem distant, but he witnesses our every whimper, whine and bark. He witnesses our heartbreak and our suffering. And guess what? He doesn’t forsake us, just like he didn’t forsake Jesus. He didn’t abandon his beloved Son. He hasn’t abandoned you.
When you feel like the world is one big staircase you can’t climb and it seems like you’ve been at the bottom barking for a long, long time. Please remember, there is a God who loves you. He sees you and he sees your needs. He knows your heart. When the time is right, not because you annoyed him or manipulated him, but because of his faithful love for you, he will lift you up and you will be in his presence.
It will almost seem like there was never anything to bark about in the first place.
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