Through the Eyes of a Dog

It was a familiar sight as I climbed into the car today: my dogs staring sadly out the front window at me.   Just moments earlier they danced circles by the door, eagerly hoping to be included… only to be disappointed… again.  Surely they must despise this contraption in the driveway that whisks me away from them so often. 

For dogs, a ride in the car must be confusing.  One minute they’re flying down the road of freedom, nose thrust triumphantly out an open window.  The next, they’re herded into a room where white-coated strangers invade their space and prick them with needles.   Sometimes a car ride leads to a joyous jaunt in the park, where every step yields new and amazing curiosities.  Other times it’s a date with that irksome groomer, or a dreaded week-long stint at the kennel. 

Dogs can’t possibly understand all the ways and methods we use to promote their well-being.  To them, our caring plans don’t always appear so caring.  In a similar sense, God’s ways are often far beyond our comprehension.  The vehicles He uses to lead us through life may leave us with many questions or doubts — even feelings of being somewhat cheated at times.  But our mission as believers is not to understand God’s ways.  Our mission is to trust that His plans and provision for us will work out for good.

Ecclesiastes 11:5 says, “Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind or the mystery of a tiny baby growing in its mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things.”

My return home always triggers a victory party in the front hallway — a delirious swirl of lashing tails and bobbing snouts.  Even if I’ve only been away for five minutes, the dogs celebrate my arrival as if I’ve been missing for weeks.  They’ll never understand all the ways of their master, but they’re OK with that.  They can be joyful because they trust.

– Ron Reid

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