Eyes on the Master
Ringo obeys well for a pup. I take off his leash on country roads and let him run in the borrow pits. He enjoys the freedom and keeps his eye on me between his sniffing and running around. It’s stressful to let Ringo run loose, as I have to watch very closely; he could be run over if he disobeyed my “sit-stay” command as cars approach, but I know that his time off-leash gives him space to become more obedient and happier. He’s afforded more freedom than our other dogs because I trust him to obey.
Walking Ringo off his leash last week, I contemplated how I don’t hear from God unless I’m really, really focused on Him. When life gets busy and I shave my time with Him to fit in other obligations, I’m less aligned. I can still be doing devotions and listening to sermons and Christian music as I work, but unless I’m digging deeper into Scripture and falling on my knees before Him in faithful prayer, He doesn’t reveal Truths to me. God feels distant and sin feels less wrong.
I thought, “I could focus more on God during my walks if I kept Ringo on the leash, if I wasn’t watching for cars and temptations that might cause him to ignore my voice.” Just then Ringo rolled in a long-dead deer, reminding me of how easily I mess up when I take my eyes off of God, when I’m off the lifeline “leash” of devoted prayer and Scripture reading. I saw that I’m a lot like my dog.
Like Ringo, whose instinct is to chase things and roll in filth, we all have a sin nature drawing us toward dirt and away from God, toward: status (pride), money, self-gratification, deceit, dissension, bitterness and anger, and away from: love, goodness, gentleness, kindness, peace, patience, faithfulness, joy and self-control. Without freedom, Ringo wouldn’t learn to obey off the leash. God gives us rules for our safety, so in our freedom, we turn toward abundant life in Him, and not toward fleshly concerns.
The good qualities listed above are the fruits of God’s Holy Spirit living and growing in you (Gal 5:22). When God’s my primary focus, these feelings fill me. Ringo’s primary focus is me, so he looks for me often. When he’s tempted to duck under a fence or cross the highway, he makes eye contact, and more and more, he chooses self-control and obedience before I have to say anything.
Just as Ringo can choose to disobey me, God gives me free will to choose between the world or His ways. God’s commands do not afford us salvation in keeping them, but they demonstrate that in our very nature we are sinful, and we require a Savior, Whom He’s already provided. I mean to obey, but sometimes, like the stench of a rotting carcass compelling a canine, the fleshly fun of holding a grudge, getting offended, speaking when I should be quiet, of withholding mercy when I should freely offer it, gets me smelling like death. In Romans 7:15-16, Paul said, “For I am not practicing what I want to do, but I do the very thing I hate… It is no longer I who sin, but sin dwelling in me.” We’re born sinners; when my devotion to prayer wanes, my focus on Him and desire to live in the Light follows suit.
Without our relationship, walks with my dog would be both of us tugging on the leash. If Ringo never had the opportunity to make the wrong choice, he’d bolt the first time he tasted freedom; he’d chase and roll and fight and eat rotten things. Then, like my old dog Pancho, he’d come crawling home hours later with his head low and his tail between his legs, panting, wet, smelly and begging pardon for his indiscretions. I’m just like this when I think or speak ill of someone, or choose my flesh over self-control and devour half a box of Tabasco Cheese-its, knowing it’ll make me feel bad, or when I desire any object more than my Bible. Years ago, I went to Europe with local high school students and a group of graduates from a Catholic school in North Dakota. Kids who’d been on a tight leash throughout their young lives responded to the sudden freedom like “girls (and boys) gone wild,” while those who’d been allowed more liberties at home often made wiser choices.
It’s my relationship with Ringo that makes him look for me and want to obey off-leash. He knows I love him. I give him freedom because I love him and I want him to obey me not only for the purpose of his safety (which, as a dog he doesn’t understand), but because of his love and devotion to me. Like a carnal Christian, ol’ Pancho loved me dearly, but he wasn’t devoted to obey when temptation came. Without a dynamic love relationship with God, growing through prayer and Bible-reading, we fail to look and see that His Holy Spirit is there to guide us in making good choices for our safety and His glory, to help us grow in Him.
Lord help me to see that I can live freely in the world and not be of the world. Help me keep my eyes on You better than my dog watches me. Let your precepts be inscribed on my heart, as a sign on my hand- a hand not bound and led, but freely following You, choosing You, loving You, Lord, above all. You are the One my heart desires foremost, my Master.
Post Script:
The “Holy Wow” of this writing? On June 14, after typing this from my journal, I read my Charles Stanley devotional for that day, which referenced PS 32:8: “…I will instruct you and teach you; I will guide you with My eye (emphasis mine).” How can God guide us with His eye if our eyes are not on Him, seeking connection? Mr. Stanley writes: “He can’t lead you if you’re focused on someone or something other than Him.”
And the next day, when I walked Ringo off leash, the rambunctious pup chose to simply walk beside me, glancing up often often for guidance. This is how I want to follow God, and I realize that when I’m seeking Him in my heart, soul and mind, He reveals many good things, even when I’m walking my dog.