The Tale of Three Dogs

The Tale of Three Dogs
Friday, February 20, 2015 by Maureen Lewicki

Categories: Uncategorized

The news abounds these days of heroic rescues by first responders of man's best friend.

The dachshund who alerted his owner that the family's St Bernard was stuck in a muddy swamp is a fine example of how tables can turn. The massive breed was known as a rescuer of mountaineers. I guess even a hero needs a hand once in a while.

There was a story of a dog stuck on the ice, and some clever citizens strapped ladders together, tied life preservers to the rungs so the ladders would float, and slid the ladder onto the ice toward the dog. This one had me on the edge of my seat. The dog seemed to clearly understand what the humans were doing, and as soon as the ladder reached him he struggled to grab a rung, and catch the ride of his life to shore.

The most recent story struck a chord in my soul. A little white dog stood tenuously on a patch of ice in a Massachusetts body of water.

A little adventurer, whose idea of excitement seemed better than it turned out to be, now needed to decide between help to shore or cling to a false hope until death. Nearby a bigger dog stood in the icy bath and waited for help.

When the first-responders reached the little dog the helpless canine growled and snapped. The-responder tried again, but the dog continued snapping and snarling. The steadfast responder snatched the dog by the scruff of its ungrateful neck and moved the dingy back to shore.

Such a picture of God's grace and provision.

Like me, that stupid dog, frightened, cold, and with only a tiny island of ice as a resource railed against his only hope.

I find myself adrift and God provides, offers His hand, and I snarl and snap.

Or do I, like his bigger companion, lower my head, allow our Provider to clip on a long leash and follow my only True Help?

I want to be like that clever little thing who grabbed the rungs of the ladder and hung on, and I do, but something in the face of the snarling, ungrateful dog felt too familiar.

Lord, help me to be like that clever dog, someone who recognizes Your provision, help me to cling to it as You pull me to safety. Help me to participate, and yet to acquiesce in that provision.

"My Hope is Built on Nothing Less"
by Edward Mote, 1797-1874

...His oath, His covenant, and blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay...

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