I was sitting here enjoying a cup of coffee when I had an epiphany—okay, maybe not an epiphany. But a really clear insight. This insight didn’t come through a window, cause I haven’t washed them lately. It came as I was watching my dog sleep peacefully in the corner beside me.
Yes, my dog. Rugby is a very needy animal. He craves attention, food, and love all the time. No matter how many times I pet him, feed him, give him fun toys to destroy, and tell him he’s the best dog in the world, he always wants and needs more. Sometimes when I think about it—it seems like a daunting and tiring task.
But aren’t we exactly the same with our heavenly father? We desire attention, long to be fed on a regular basis, ask him for things we need or for situations to change that we deem impossible, beg for his forgiveness when we screw up and ultimately need to know that we are covered by the canopy of his never-changing love.
Unlike dogs, that trust implicitly, we don’t always curl up on our bed each night and rest soundly that our Master will care for us. Sometimes our trust is braided together with selfish insecurity. We only trust as far as we can see. The future is a cloudy, grey sky. What if God doesn’t know what we need? What if he can’t see that things will change and we won’t be covered when the rain comes?
Rugby trusts I’ll be here when he wakes up. He trusts his bowl will always be filled. He trusts I’ll take him for walks and clean up after him. (In fact, he knows I treasure those piles, for I put them in little plastic bags and save them in a large blue container with a lid) He trusts that I will love him and care for him always.
I’m not the perfect master. In fact, I have been known to forget to fill his water dish and don’t realize until he comes into my bathroom and begins to lick water from the bottom of the shower stall. But God never forgets. He is the perfect master. He supplies all our needs. In fact, he knows what we need before we do.
I guess my epiphany is simply about trusting—like a dog. It works for Rugby.
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