Yesterday during the children’s sermon, Rebecca The Children’s Minister introduced a picture of her two dogs, Starbuck and Mac—named after their respective companies. As she talked about her two dogs and how much she cared for them, I thought about Bullet. Naturally, when I stood to introduce the next hymn, I talked about the little guy.
I spoke about how much he loves my dad—how he is fully devoted to my dad above all else. I shared how I let Bullet off of his porch each morning, let him bullet through the garage to open the door, watch him speak to my dad, and then leave him either eating his breakfast with my dad or running around the yard marking his territory after speaking to my dad. If, for some reason, my dad isn’t home, then Bullet will not stay in the house. He usually chooses to keep watch in the garage—for my dad. If my dad takes a shower, then Bullet sits on a bathmat in the bathroom and waits—then he licks the water off of the bottom of my dad’s legs. If my dad goes outside to mow the grass, then Bullet either follows around the lawn mower or digs himself a hole, sits, and watches. If Bullet is ready for a nap, then he will not sleep peacefully unless my dad is napping beside him. Notice—my dad is the theme of Bullet’s life.
It doesn’t matter if my dad fusses at Bullet. It doesn’t matter if he ignores Bullet’s requests to go outside. It doesn’t matter if I am the one who walks the dog. It doesn’t matter that I am the one who most often releases him from his porch. Bullet loves my dad. Fully. Completely. Wholeheartedly. Unconditionally. Period.
And yet…God loves us so much more.
When I came home from school today, Bullet met me at the door. As I was speaking to him, my dad told me that Bullet did something new today: He dragged his entire dog bed to our house from his porch. Dad said it looked like he was moving in!
Friends: Bullet’s porch has a regular, hinged door; there is no dog door through which he enters and exits. When Bullet decides that he wants to escape from his porch—which my next door neighbor and I called Houdini-ing—then he has to use his little paws to pry the door open and then stick his hose in the door to open it enough to scoot out his fat little body—we guess—no one has ever actually seen him Houdini.
So for Bullet to somehow open his door and drag out his dog bed! Let’s just say that he must have been determined to get to our house to ride out the storms that have been raging this afternoon!
And yet…God has done so much more just to be with us.
I wish that I could take this metaphor further. I wish that I could invite everyone to meet the little guy and to receive warm, therapeutic dog love. I wish that Bullet were welcoming and affirming and accepting of all people. But he’s not. In fact, he is so protective of my dad that he’s quite mean to everyone other than my family. Most people who meet him want to kick him!
Evenso…God’s love is unwavering and fierce. And for this I am glad…
…maybe even more glad than Bullet when he hears my dad opening a package of food. And that, my friends, is dancingly glad!
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