Love Leash


I recently adopted a puppy from Happy Endings Animal Rescue, our local animal shelter.  Brown rimmed eyeballs, petite snout, black colored coat with reddish-tan brindle streaks, she has that lumbering, ungainly, paws-flying-everywhere gait.   Around her neck, she sports a golden-yellow bone-shaped identification tag with my name and contact information.  Sassy, as I call her, views the entire house as her domain.  She searches relentlessly for stuff to sniff, chew and rip into shreds.  Boundaries are a foreign concept to a young pup.

And so is submission.

I am teaching her to walk on a leash.  I snap the spring hook to her collar and station her on my left side.   “Heel,” I say forcefully and start off with my right foot.  She tugs, twists and tries to extricate herself from my control.   Since I exert more force, I win the battle of wills.   Still, I want her to walk quietly alongside me without straining at my touch.

I think God feels the same way about me. 

God chose me through Jesus Christ before the foundations of the world took shape. He adopted me as his daughter*.  I belong to Him and wear his identification, a gold colored cross, around my neck.   He houses me, feeds me, loves me and provides a place to rest. We get along great when I am lazing in his care.

Then, he snaps his spring hook to my collar and the rebellion begins. 

“What, you want me to forgive that person after everything they did to me?  You want me to tithe, even on the proceeds from my yard sale?  I’m supposed to read my Bible every day?” I tug and twist and try to extricate myself from his control.  Even after forty years of following Him, the collar still chafes.

Then, I remember taking my own path and following my own lead.  I remember disasters, broken relationships and heartaches.  Like Sassy, I see life from eleven inches above the ground.   God sees my past, present and future from the viewing platform of heaven. He has attached his leash to guard me, direct me, and prevent me from plunging over a cliff into one more chasm.   Oops.

I relax and become willing to accept his compassionate restraint.   I know that his “Ten” commandments are “tender” commandments, created by my loving Father to protect me.  I stop yanking at the leash and move in closer to Him.  

Lord, I’m a slow learner.  Teach me how to walk with you.

*Romans 8:16

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