I lived for decades in the performance driven world of sports. We too often measured value not by character but by statistics like how many tackles for loss, field goal shooting percentage, or batting average. Character was a nice bonus but performance was king.
I remembered a comment from former Northwestern University football coach Pat Fitzgerald about the impact of negative stats on a football player’s performance. Coaches often talk about the need to reduce “missed” tackles and they keep track of each miscue. Coach Fitzgerald had a different philosophy. His staff did not keep track of missed tackles at all. The staff evaluated each player by their effort even if it did not produce perfect results. His next comment stuck with me. “I don’t like to put negative results in their minds because you become what you think about.”
It immediately hit me how profound that comment is for followers of Jesus. We tend to keep spiritual stats on failure. We beat ourselves up over “missed” opportunities. We fixate on what we have done instead of what Jesus has already done for us. We write our game plan to do better on the board.
Don’t sin. Do better. Pray more. Study more Scripture. Be more forgiving. Less angry. More loving.
And we try really, really hard to do all of those things. But the bad stats overwhelm and discourage us. We do sin. We don’t always forgive. We get angry. We don’t study or pray as much as we think we probably should. The net result is frustration and spiritual fatigue.
In Hebrews the text tells us to “strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”
Even though it sounds like a daunting and even impossible task, the author of Hebrews sums up how to do that in one powerful sentence: “We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith” (Hebrews 12:1-2, NLT).
That is it.
There is no other way to consistently live that life apart from keeping our eyes on Jesus. The same is true for me. When I keep my eyes on Jesus, I have the strength to be bold and the ability to produce fruit that is pleasing to God. When our rambunctious Labrador Maggie could not settle down, I told her to sit so she could focus on calming down and doing the right thing. When she stayed and regrouped, things went well for her. When my thought life and actions cannot settle down, I need the Holy Spirit to firmly but lovingly tell me to sit . . .stay . . . abide.
Only then do I realize that I have turned my eyes away from Jesus. When I stay, I can focus on His peace, love, forgiveness, and grace, and have the ability to resist sin. If I am anxious, fearful, have doubts, or am sad, I need to sit, stay, and abide, looking at the One who initiates and perfects my faith.
What a difference between that approach and what too many of us experience. We tend to address the sin first. Stop that! Quit! Do better! And by the way, Jesus loves you. Or worse, He will love you when you do better. Paul always took the grace exit instead. Remember who you are! You are saints! Beloved! Adopted! Redeemed! Those same truths are ours to claim as we keep our eyes on Jesus. When we quit fighting to get better and do that one simple thing, something amazing happens. We get better.
We do become what we think about. It is always a pretty good game plan to think about Jesus. And His gift of grace eliminates our spiritual shortcoming stats. Thank you Lord!
I was introduced to Christianity in a church that put a legalistic leash on my behavior. By strict rules they believed they could force me to live a holy life. You can imagine how that worked out for a teenager in the Sixties. Our denomination reminded me of characters from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We did not have the dreaded knights who said, “Ni” but we definitely had the dreaded congregants who said, “No.”
I’m certain there were several volumes filled with things that were forbidden and, not surprisingly, most of them were man-made rules. Here is a sample platter of no-no’s I was asked to follow.
NO movies. (Might have been in violation) NO drinking. (Too young so I got holiness points for this one) NO mixed swimming. (I kid you not) NO television. (The temptation of Mr Ed, The Beverly Hillbillies and Petticoat Junction was too strong. Violation.) NO cards. (More holiness points) NO rock-and-roll music. (Definitely in violation) NO smoking. (Nailed this one) NO slacks for women. NO long hair for men. (Deduct holiness points) NO makeup for women.
I remember asking my godly grandmother what she thought about the no makeup rule. She smiled and gave this memorable reply. “If the barn needs a coat of paint I think you should paint it.” She was my first dispenser of grace.
It’s not surprising that it took me a long time to figure out freedom in Christ. Ironically, there are a few verses that strongly emphasized the word “no” in the New Testament that our moralists somehow overlooked. For example, this little “no” verse would have come in handy (capitalization and italics added for emphasis).
There is NO condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death. Romans 8:1-2, NLT
That would have been a refreshing mist of grace to our parched flock. Or how about these “NO” verses?
This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is NO fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us. 1 John 4:17-19, NIV
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” The second is this: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” There is NO commandment greater than these. Mark 12:30-31, NIV
Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps NO record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 1 Corinthians 13:4-6, NLT
I have been crucified with Christ and I NO longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing! Galatians 2:20-21, NIV
That is a very different “no” list than the first one.
NO condemnation.
NO fear.
NO commandment greater than to love God and your neighbor.
NO record of wrongdoing when you love one another.
NO longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.
I can be holy because of Christ and not because of my anguished rule keeping. There is joy and freedom in that second list.
The Epistles written by Paul are as impactful for today’s church as they were for his multiple church plants. Paul was dealt some pretty bad hands during his missionary journeys. I suspect it would have been easy for him to question God about his challenging journey. After all, it was God who very aggressively recruited Paul onto the team while he was traveling to Damascus. But Paul knew that difficulties are a vital part of the spiritual growth program. Here is what he wrote from prison.
I rejoiced greatly in the Lord that at last you renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you were concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. (Philippians 4:10-12, NIV)
I am so grateful that Paul did not write “I am content” and “I know the secret,” even though those words could have been true. He was divinely inspired to honestly write that he had learned to be content and he had learned the secret. It did not come naturally or easily to Paul either.
Contentment is learning how to be present with Jesus in every circumstance. Our nature is to not enjoy the moment at hand when it is not ideal. We focus on whatever is bothering us. We long for comfort and fail to look for the blessings that usually surround us. Maybe what we really need is the lesson of the circumstance.
I wrote about our rescued Labradors in Stay: Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace. Before we adopted those sweet girls we had a rambunctious golden retriever named Charlie. He showed me how we can find comfort in a worrisome moment.
Charlie developed a large benign tumor under his front leg that made walking difficult. We took him in for what would be a rather serious surgery at his ripe old canine age of twelve. The vet did a masterful job in removing the growth and taking care of Charlie. He spent the night at the clinic, and in the morning it was time to bring Charlie home. Joni and I were waiting in the reception area, and when Charlie shuffled out, I was taken aback by his appearance. Charlie was trembling, frightened, and apparently in some pain. His head was down and his tail that was always in perpetual motion was strangely stilled. He seemed confused and disoriented.
I walked over to Charlie and gently touched him. Immediately, he quit trembling and made a valiant attempt to wag his tail. We carefully got him into the car and took him home to heal. His anxiety was reduced considerably.
Now, as I reflect on that scene, Charlie’s reaction to my touch and mere presence was a wonderful illustration of how Jesus comforts (or desires to comfort) me. When I (his master) touched Charlie, he was comforted. His pain was not gone. He was still frightened. He was still a bit disoriented and unsure. Charlie’s circumstances hadn’t really changed at all. But he knew that his master was there, and that made it better.
What a picture that is of how the touch of Jesus enables us to respond when we are frightened about the future. We need to remind ourselves that Jesus never promised that all trouble would vanish when we believe in Him. Jesus understood the need to communicate His victory over our trials.
“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33, NLT)
Jesus promised that He would be there and that His presence would be enough. But I usually want to avoid pain and difficult situations. Even as I desire changed situations, the quiet voice of God is seeking a changed me. Paul never asked for different circumstances for those he prayed for in his letters. He asked for patience, thanksgiving, joy, hope, confidence, and trust, because he knew that growing in those traits would be enough for those reading his words to endure whatever life threw at them.
Paul learned that the gentle touch of Jesus will ease your anxiety and give you peace even in a difficult journey. And with that trust in Christ we can learn to be content.
It was thirteen years ago when Joni and I said goodbye to Hall of Fame canine companion Hannah. She was a unexpected rescued Labrador that God brought into our lives to help us through a challenging season. She inspired the initial book draft of Stay: Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace that included stories from another rescued Labrador named Maggie. Here is a chapter from the book remembering sweet Hannah.
Hannah loves the morning walk. When she sees me grab my walking shoes, she begins to vibrate with excitement. If the Department of Energy wants to find an untapped green energy source, it should harness Labrador tails. I think Hannah could power a small apartment building when she gets excited and that tail starts oscillating. I love the morning walk as well. It is a time to meditate, pray, listen to good music, and enjoy God’s company.
The walk is pretty much the same each day for Hannah. She checks for new messages left by other canine friends along her social network. Sometimes she leaves a reply. She gets excited when she sees another person, dog, or anything breathing, really. Hannah loves life.
As I clipped the leash to Hannah’s collar this morning, I couldn’t help but notice her enthusiasm. She was happy just to get out and walk. The leash didn’t spoil the anticipation of heading out the door, and despite its restriction, she still found abundant stimulation along the way.
When we got to the park, it was empty. As usual, we started out by a sign that sternly warned miscreants not to let their dogs run free. Today we were in temporary violation of city code 5544.
We entered a wooded area on the back side of the park where I felt comfortable letting Hannah run free. She became visibly energized by her liberation.
She ran ahead of me, spun around, and sprinted back. She spotted a squirrel several yards away and instinctively froze. Her body tensed in anticipation; she crouched down and took a few slow, deliberate steps, stalking her prey.
Then she bolted full throttle at the squirrel, ears flying in the wind.
The squirrel darted up a tree and Hannah stopped, looked up, and then turned with an expression of complete satisfaction as she trotted back toward me. She had a doggie smile from ear to ear. Hannah was fully alive when she was off the leash. Her freedom gave her such joy and energy. The squirrels weren’t as keen with the idea.
When we reached the front part of the park, I called her and reattached the leash. Her body language was still happy, but there was not quite as much spring in her step. The leash again restricted her freedom.
Hannah’s joyous foray into freedom made me think about my journey with Jesus. I was introduced to faith in Christ in a church that put a legalistic leash on my daily Christian walk.
Our church leaders reminded me of characters from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We did not have the dreaded knights who said, “Ni.” We had the dreaded pastors who said, “No.”
I’m certain there were several volumes filled with things that were forbidden. Here is a sample platter of no-no’s I was asked to follow.
NO movies. NO drinking. NO movies. NO television. NO playing cards. NO rock-and-roll music. NO slacks for women. NO long hair for men.
You get the idea. It’s not surprising that it took me a long time to figure out grace and freedom in Christ. Ironically, there are a few noes in the New Testament that our moralists somehow overlooked. This little “no” verse would have come in handy (capitalization and italics added for emphasis).
There is NO condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death. Romans 8:1-2
That would have been a refreshing mist of grace to our parched flock. Or how about these “no” verses (capitalization and italics added for emphasis).
This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is NOfear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us. (1 John 4:17-19, NIV)
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” The second is this: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” There is NO commandment greater than these. (Mark 12:30-31, NIV)
Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps NO record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. (1 Corinthians 13:4-6)
I have been crucified with Christ and I NO longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing! (Galatians 2:20-21, NIV)
That is a very different “no” list than the first one.
NO condemnation. NO fear. NO commandment greater than to love God and your neighbor. NO record of wrongdoing when you love one another. NO longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.
Hannah’s foray off the leash reminded me again of my freedom from the burden of performance-based salvation. Remembering that restores the bounce in my step and spirit. In the freedom of grace, I am realizing and believing who God says I am. When I am unleashed by grace, I understand and trust who God says He is.
Like Hannah, I could live on my leash of moralism and get by fairly well. I did it for decades. Most of you wouldn’t have noticed my constraints. I would still have fun and enjoy the journey, just as Hannah enjoyed the restricted part of her walk. But why should I accept partial freedom when God is offering complete freedom in His amazing grace?
Take off whatever leash is holding you back today and run freely in grace. Choose to believe that there is no condemnation in Christ for those who belong to Him. Don’t settle for some self-imposed leash of performance. Hannah would tell you that the real blessing is running with complete freedom.
God’s grace unhooks the leash and allows you to run unfettered and worship. God loves watching your exuberant liberation in Him. And He enjoys it when you turn and smile toward the heavens with complete satisfaction.
Enjoy the grace-filled romp of freedom just as Hannah did. Walk (or run with ears flying) to Jesus. Approach Him with confidence, not in fear and shame. Having that relationship allows you to give up your burden of self-sufficiency and let Jesus lead. Thanks, Hannah, for helping me see that.
Joni and I had to say goodbye to both Hannah and Maggie. We weren’t sure if we could find another dog like those two. Through an unexpected God connection we found another canine companion with a heart just as big as Hannah and Maggie but contained somehow in a much smaller body. Bella is a 15 pound Cavapoo with a giant personality that entertains, makes you smile, and warms your heart. I was wondering recently what Bella’s contribution might be if there was a rewrite of Stay. Here is the first draft.
Sometimes I wish that churchgoers would adopt some canine characteristics of Bella. Her love is unconditional. She has yet to meet a person she didn’t wish to greet with joy.
Bella is forgiving. You can disappoint by leaving her behind or not having a moment to play when she desires it. Bella instantly forgives and forgets when you return to her.
Bella doesn’t spend all of her time with a clique of familiar faces. She greets everyone in her path whether she’s met them before or not.
Bella’s early discipleship lesson is one that both Hannah and Maggie showed me but this little girl takes to a new level.
Live in the moment!
Bella is so good at this gift! She doesn’t waste one second pouting about missing a walk yesterday or getting fed late this morning. And she has zero anxiety that tomorrow’s schedule might not be perfect. She is ALL IN the moment! What’s the lesson here for believers?
Satan wants us to live in regret of the past and fear of the future, preventing us from contentment and living in the moment with God and those we love.
I began to learn that part of being content on the journey with Jesus is simply trusting Him one day at a time. You can’t live in regret of the past. It is forgiven. You can’t live in fear of the future. It is in God’s hands. Without regret or fear you are free to live in the moment.
Jesus proclaimed that exact message in the Gospel of Matthew.
“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?” (Matthew 6:25-26)
That is so true. Jesus continued to teach His early followers.
“So don’t worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’ These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today. (Matthew 6:31-34)
First discipleship reminder from Bella? Live in the moment, seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and the rest will take care of itself. I pray that will be my mindset for my remaining days.
Live in the moment.
Bella lives that every day. She can be sleeping soundly when a door opens. She springs up and bounces ready to play. What a picture of spontaneity and joy! She is living completely and freely in the moment. She may have been tired but unexpectedly she has a chance to play with her friend. The message conveyed by her eyes and body language was clear: “Let’s do this!”
That is my desire as I live out my Jesus journey. I don’t want to dwell on the past. It is gracefully forgiven. I can’t be anxious about my future because my hope is in God. So I want to embrace each day with joy and anticipation of God’s amazing grace. Let’s do this!
I turn the volume way up every time Lauren Daigle’s song “You Say” plays. The lyrics perfectly describe the battle that most of us fight to believe that what God says about us is true. Here is a sample of her powerful lyrics.
I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low? Remind me once again just who I am, because I need to know…
I am drawn to wounded and dysfunctional people like a moth to light. When I hear their stories, I see a familiar pattern. They tend to believe that all the old junk in their lives is still true about them in God’s eyes. Too many followers of Jesus cannot believe they are a new and holy creation.
Recently I saw a T-shirt with this message: “Even if the voices in my head aren’t real they do have some good ideas”.
I got an initial chuckle out of that one. But then I thought, Wait! The voices in my head rarely have good ideas.
I suspect that is true for some of you as well. Sadly, the voices in our heads are real, formidable foes, voices that were programmed from childhood. Negative comments from parents, teachers, coaches, siblings, friends, fellow Christians, and assorted others have laid down deeply grooved tracks in my self-image soundtrack mix. Favorite cuts like these are always cued and ready to be played.
“You will never change.” “What were you thinking?” “I can’t believe you did that again.” “What is wrong with you?” “I am so disappointed in you.”
And the number one accusation on my personal Top 10 countdown . . .
“How could you be so stupid?”
When you mess up, the voices begin. And then your own voice joins the chorus. “It is true. I am not worthy. I am not enough. I am stupid. I don’t deserve to be loved.”
When you face disappointment, rejection, failure, loss, and trials, self-incriminating remarks flood your mind.
Why wasn’t I a better (pick one) spouse/friend/brother/sister/relative?” “If I had done (insert action), this would not have happened.” “Why didn’t I (insert missed opportunity) when I had the chance?” “Why did I (pick one or more) work too much/travel too much/whatever too much when I should have been there?”
If I may lean on my sports background here, Satan calls the all-out blitz when people of faith go through seasons of trial and doubt. He delights in accusing and trying to rock the very foundation of your faith. Satan is, always has been, and always will be a liar. You have learned to never trust a liar at work or in other relationships. How much more should we pray to recognize and reject the lies that Satan attacks us with during adversity?
There is another voice. It is much softer and requires more effort to hear. It is not a voice of shame. It is a voice of hope, love, acceptance, forgiveness, and grace. You have to slow way down and be quiet to hear this voice. That is the loving voice of God and His word.
Lauren Daigle’s lyrics describe this voice poetically.
You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing You say I am strong when I think I am weak You say I am held when I am falling short When I don’t belong, oh You say that I am Yours And I believe, oh I believe What You say of me I believe
All of us hear those voices from the enemy. The voices from bad experiences in our past may require counseling to help erase them. But for the everyday challenges of the journey, I have learned that the voice we tend to hear first in the spiritual battle is the loud one. Step back, be still, and listen for the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit.
Our God is a God of forgiveness. We need to fix our eyes on Jesus. Don’t lose heart. Don’t allow the enemy to keep you from leaning on God for comfort because of your shame. That is not from the Lord.
In John we read this amazing promise.
But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.(John 1:12, NLT)
Don’t believe the lies. You are a child of God. Beloved. As Lauren Daigle sings this truth I pray that we will believe it today.
The only thing that matters now is everything You think of me In You I find my worth, in You I find my identity,
(To celebrate the 10 Anniversary of Stay:Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace I am posting a chapter outlining the best lesson learned from Hannah today and Maggie tomorrow. Forgive me for a longer read but I hope it resonates with you. Hannah goes first.)
Today I was thinking about Hannah’s cancer diagnosis and wondering how long our journey would last. As she often does, Hannah sensed my sadness, came over, and put her head in my lap.
I remembered as she nuzzled me that she had taught me a very valuable lesson years ago before her own trial had come along. One reason Hannah is such a special friend is that she entered our lives during a difficult season when her human mom —my wife, Joni—was diagnosed with breast cancer. Hannah provided a comforting presence during a scary time. I found an anonymous quote that sums up one big reason why: “One reason a dog can be such a comfort when you’re feeling blue is that she doesn’t try to find out why.”
Hannah knew how to deal with people going through an emotionally and physically draining valley. Her solution was simple but powerful.
Be present.
It was just the unsolicited encouragement that Joni and I so needed at the time. When this cancer journey began, we learned a lot of hard lessons. One of the hardest to swallow was people’s reactions, how those close to us dealt with tragedy and illness. We had expectations of who would be there for us during the storm, but those expectations were rarely correct. Some people that we were sure would be steadfast became invisible. Others that we would have wagered the mortgage on to be constant encouragers became awkward and distant. When your expectations are met with barely any response from friends and family, it can devastate your spirit and lead to despair.
Although reasons were never given, I could guess why people struggled with our situation, based on the unique baggage they brought to their own story. Perhaps cancer made them fear their own mortality. Some acted as if cancer is contagious. Perhaps they worried they might say the wrong thing. Others might have felt pressure to make sense of a senseless situation or the need to figure out the spiritual reason for the trial, and when they had no answer to give us, they retreated. I understand all that now, but at the time it hurt.
That’s what Hannah sensed. Her intuitive evaluation of my emotions was uncanny. Hannah would come to me and nudge me as if to say, “I’m here.” As she shifted her big brown eyes toward mine, her gaze communicated, “I don’t know how to help, but I wish I could.”
There was incredible comfort in her presence.
She was right. That was all I needed—presence. When Joni was sick with cancer, all we needed from friends and fellow followers of Jesus was caring presence.
The theology of why bad things happen could wait. The go-to verse that “all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28, kjv) could be explored when time gave perspective. You don’t need to explain or spiritualize trials. You need to be present and willing to walk with your friend or loved one in grace and love. Simple, yet incredibly powerful.
Remember me mentioning Job and his suffering in the introduction? At first, Job’s friends were fantastic empathizers. When they simply sat with Job and grieved with him, I am sure he took comfort in these men who cared enough to be present. But then they decided to speak their piece. They resorted to the familiar default mode of needing to “figure out” what Job did to trigger his suffering. They tried to explain what they could not understand.
God was faithful to provide caring people to walk with Joni and me. We thanked Him for those He prompted to love us, instead of wondering why others were not there. That was a spiritual turning point for us.
During Joni’s cancer, Hannah obviously had no idea why we were sad. She had no more understanding of Joni’s disease than she would later have of her own prognosis. But she could sense our sorrow and she was present in the moment.
Joni’s breast cancer treatment included surgery and a year of chemotherapy followed by weeks of radiation. We joked about our weekly dates at the “Slow-Drip Spa” but there was not much humor to be found in the aftermath of those sessions. Joni fought nausea and her plummeting white blood cell counts were dangerously low, compromising her recovery. One day after we returned home from Joni’s chemotherapy session, she went straight to the bedroom, exhausted, to try to sleep off the nausea. I sat on the couch in our living room staring at nothing as I tried to process all that Joni was going through.
Hannah sensed my sadness but wasn’t sure what to do. She walked by, looked at me, picked up a tennis ball, and brought it to me. I could see a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. I imagined a thought bubble appearing over her head with the message, “Would this help make you less sad?”
I tossed the ball to her but she did not play with the normal zeal that she had during our games of catch.
This day Hannah caught the ball, calmly brought it back, and gently dropped it in my lap. It was as if she was doing this for me and not her. She was giving me a few moments of respite from my fears. I don’t recall another time that she played in that way.
A recent study done by Goldsmiths College in London suggests that dogs may respond more to our emotions than any other species, including our own. According to the study conducted by Dr. Deborah Custance and Jennifer Mayer, dogs will even approach strangers to comfort them, regardless of expectation of reward or care. That certainly makes them different from many humans.
The researchers did the following experiment.
Eighteen pet dogs, spanning a range of ages and breeds, were exposed to four separate 20-second experimental conditions in which either the dog’s owner or an unfamiliar person pretended to cry, hummed in an odd manner, or carried out a casual conversation. The dogs demonstrated behaviours consistent with an expression of empathic concern. Significantly more dogs looked at, approached and touched the humans as they were crying as opposed to humming, and no dogs responded during talking.
Humming was included because it is an unusual sound that might arouse the curiosity of the dogs. But interestingly enough, the dogs consistently reacted to the person who was crying instead of the ones humming or talking, regardless of whether the person crying was a dog’s owner or a complete stranger.
Jennifer Mayer summed up the surprising result which was amazing to me.
“If the dogs’ approaches during the crying condition were motivated by self-oriented comfort-seeking, they would be more likely to approach their usual source of comfort, their owner, rather than the stranger. No such preference was found. The dogs approached whoever was crying regardless of their identity. Thus they were responding to the person’s emotion, not their own needs, which is suggestive of empathic-like comfort-offering behavior.”
The researchers suggested that centuries of breeding had created this type of response in our canine companions. Perhaps. But I align more with Martin Luther’s thoughts on this issue: “The dog is the most faithful of animals and would be much esteemed were it not so common. Our Lord God has made his greatest gifts the commonest.”
I think God has given us a model of walking, breathing grace in these amazing creatures.
The empathetic instinct to pain that my friend Hannah possesses can be a template for how I can be present with God. There are times when my baggage or fear cause me to be awkward and distant from God. I am not sure what to say or even if God wants to deal with my weak faith again. I am tempted to talk bravely as if nothing is wrong. But my heart is crying out in pain. God comforts me in the brave talking, but He rushes toward the crying of my soul. I think that is what the apostle Paul is describing in Romans, assuring us that the Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf when we are too anguished to even find words:
The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. (Romans 8:26-27)
The Holy Spirit senses our heart and literally interprets our anguish to the Father. God desires that we simply be present with Him. We don’t need to pray eloquent psalms of petition. We simply put our head in the lap of Abba Father and say, “I’m here.” And isn’t it interesting that it is in this very intimate context of submission and tender dependence on the Holy Spirit that the oft-quoted phrase about how “all things work together for good” occurs?
The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. (Romans 8:26-28)
We isolate the verse about “everything working for good” from its context and throw it out as “comfort” for those who are suffering. Paul says that God is with us in our suffering, not just for one specific event, but for all of the trials we will face in our lives. All of them will be ultimately redeemed for those who love God.
The purpose of our trials is not necessarily to have things work out neatly, according to our desires. Romans 8:29 says, “God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son.” God chose believers to become like His Son. All of these trials together will cause us to become more like Jesus. That may or may not mean a particular event will work out well. How often have we wounded a hurting soul with our shallow spiritualizing when he or she just needed a friend?
Learning to be present for a friend or a loved one is a precious skill. Henri Nouwen captures this heart of friendship well.
“When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.”
It starts with being present, a lesson well taught by my friend Hannah. She gave me a clear example of being present when your friend is hurting. Just be present. Not all-knowing. Not awkwardly fumbling for words. Simply present.
Tonight I got into bed late, and Hannah got up with some difficulty from her comfy bed and walked to my side. Maybe she needed my presence. Maybe she sensed my need for a therapeutic ear scratch. I suspect the truth is that both of us had needs that were met by that simple action of presence and affection. That is how it works when we drop our fears and selfishness to make ourselves lovingly present in a loved one’s pain. It is therapeutic for everyone involved.
During Joni’s difficult cancer trial we learned that the peace that surpasses all understanding is real. We lived it and we got through a very trying year by leaning on each other, great doctors, good friends, God’s grace, and lots of Hannah nuzzles.
