The Guilty Dog

Coming home after a dinner out, my dog met me at the door cowering. She had her tail tucked between her legs, her head low to the ground, and a quiver ran through her. I knew she'd done something wrong even though I couldn't see it.

I walked in and found she'd jumped up on the counter to tear into a loaf of bread. That's it. Yes, it's wrong. It happened once before and she got into a lot of trouble. I even thought I had made it impossible by taking the chair away that she jumped up on.

I picked up the loaf, held it towards her and said, "No. That's bad. No." I didn't yell. Honestly, I was a little exasperated that my fresh loaf of high quality bread was destroyed, but I wasn't angry. If anything, I was just thinking about how I could train her. I don't want to just lock it up - I want her to be properly trained to not steal food. I want to be able to trust her.

She felt so guilty. She cowered under a chair. I didn't yell or spank, I just cleaned up the mess. Then I pulled out the computer. Twenty minutes later I realized she was still cowering. I called out "Come!" and she was so very happy.  Then, I knew.

I knew that this was so like us with God. We know we're wrong. We do it anyway. God tells us we're wrong and picks up after us. He chooses how to teach us. He wants to be able to trust us to obey. We cower in fear, hiding ourselves or our sins, until he calls out to forgive us and reassure us. When he does, we're ecstatic.

This is daily theology: seeing the truths of the Bible manifest in normal daily events.