Summer has made it’s presence known this week in Texas. The oppressive heat leads to expressions like this from canine friend Maggie.

For years I have been throwing around the phrase “dog days of summer” with no clue about its origin. The Romans noticed that the hottest days of the years happened to coincide with the appearance of the “dog star” Sirius which is the brightest star in the constellation Canis Major. They believed the appearance of this bright star contributed to withering heat.

The Greeks were likely the first to use the term dog days and you will surely recall this reference from your most recent reading of the Iliad by Homer.

Sirius rises late in the dark, liquid sky
On summer nights, star of stars,
Orion’s Dog they call it, brightest
Of all, but an evil portent, bringing heat
And fevers to suffering humanity.

I was surprised to find that dog days appear in the first copies of the King James Bible and the Book of Common Prayer. The lectionary of the 1559 edition of the Book of Common Prayer notes that dog “daies” begin July 6th and end September 5th. This corresponds to the 1611 edition of the King James Bible that also noted dog days in the daily readings.

So we have historical precedent to celebrate dog days!

I have now lived in Texas for 41 years. I love Texas and the people of the Lone Star state. Please remember that disclaimer as I confess that I can sympathize with General  Philip Henry Sheridan’s comments about Texas after the Civil War. Sheridan remarked that “if I owned Hell and Texas I would rent out Texas and live in Hell”. But let us extend a moment of grace and consider that perhaps Sheridan offered his comments during the dog days of summer. I suspect that before air conditioning I might have pondered the same thoughts. July and August are miserable in North Texas. That is our payback for mocking our Northern friends during January and February.

The usual suspect for miserable summer weather is a high pressure dome that camps over the state. I am not a meteorologist but here is what I understand about this phenomenon. This high pressure dome just sits there defiantly (okay…it may not have personality but it sure seems vengeful) and whenever a cooling front or storm approaches those cooling temps bounce off and are sent to a less deserving state. Every night I watch the weather with naive optimism. I observe these fronts floating toward Texas from Canada, bringing the hope of tantalizingly cooler air, only to see this high pressure dome reject that relief. And we stay miserable. Texans (and adopted Texans) know that eventually this dome will be broken up and cooler weather will arrive.

So what in the wide, wide world of meteorology does that have to do with my faith? One of things that God is teaching me is that I sometimes allow spiritual “high pressure domes” to affect my faith temperature. For example, a “high pressure dome” of pride can force the gentle front of humility and reconciliation to bounce tragically away.

Peter’s life was nearing its end when he addressed the leaders both young and old in Asia Minor.

And all of you, dress yourselves in humility as you relate to one another, for

“God opposes the proud
    but gives grace to the humble.”

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. (1 Peter 1:5-7, NLT)

I find it ironic that I desperately hope the weather high pressure dome will go away so I will not be physically miserable yet I ignore the stubborn spiritual patterns that make me even more miserable. I pray today for the winds of grace to break through and provide a refreshing spiritual forecast for this week. This could be our report for this warm summer week if we trust Him.

…God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13, NLT)

You can read Maggie’s story in Stay: Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace