True Loyalty

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other.” Mat. 6:24

Many years ago, a few months after we got our dog Zoey, the Lord surprised us by calling us back overseas to teach for the three-month fall semester, at the university we’d taught at before. We’d returned to seminary for me to complete my required DMin. courses in residence, and at this point, I only needed to write my dissertation. With our older son in college, homeschooling our younger son, and husband between jobs, we were free to go back. Except for Zoey.

After all, Zoey had come to us in such a miraculous way, had been our constant companion, and we loved and enjoyed her so much. Sure, in many ways it would be great to go back to that university and serve there again, even for that short while. It would put a squeeze on the dissertation that was due by early spring, but I knew He’d enable me, since He called me.

Zoey was a different matter. What would happen to her while we were gone? Who could keep her? Would she, in her doggy way, be hurt and resent our leaving her and “dumping her off” on someone else? Or, equally sad and disturbing, would she adjust so well that she’d forget us and/or we wouldn’t matter to her anymore?

Our heavenly Father’s calling rang loud and clear to us, though, so we heeded it and returned overseas to that university at the request of their president. The logistics weren’t easy— finding someone to housesit our humble trailer while we were gone, preparations, and getting someone to keep a big golden retriever for 3 months and then have to give her back! And what about airfare? He took care of all that, and off we went, leaving Zoey in the care of a loving family who had their own female yellow lab and wanted to see what it was like to have two dogs. Not only that, they lived in a large home with a large yard, a doggie door, and three kids, one our son’s age.

For a dog, who could ask for more? Palatial accommodations, room to roam, friends, energetic kids to play with, human “parents” with time and resources to take her on all kinds of adventures, freedom to go out and in at will, the works!

For us, that was the problem. We and what we had to offer could hardly compare. Would she willingly return to us from “heaven on earth” when we returned after three months overseas? Would she leave all that comfort and fun behind without feeling forced to?

She did! As soon as we entered our friends’ house to pick her up, she came bounding up to us, so excited and happy to see us, you’d have thought we’d brought her gifts! All we’d brought were ourselves—three members of a human family who loved her. She also gladly accompanied us back to our humble home—no backing away, no moping around depressed. Just enjoying our company again, as if we’d never had to leave.

That’s true loyalty. We humans can learn a lot from most canines in this area. How loyal are we to our family, friends, and heavenly Father? How about churches, groups, companies, etc., as long as they don’t go against our highest loyalty to our Father? We’ll know when we’re tested by someone or somewhere else offering: More creature comfort; more fun; more freedom; more abundance; more of whatever we want. Or perhaps what just appears to be so.

But in the end, disloyalty never brings satisfaction or contentment because we’ll always have a reason to leave. Only true loyalty, first to our Father and then to those He calls us to, can bring contentment, the kind that comes when we’re not prone to wander.

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity” Prov. 17:17

But those who, like Zoey, remain loyal, will bless themselves, even as they bless those they’re loyal to. “…godliness, with contentment, is great gain.” 1 Tim. 6:6

Thankfully, we have our heavenly Father to help us with this, who Himself demonstrates true loyalty– “…if we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot disown himself.” 2 Tim. 2:13

Doing What We’re Designed For

Those who do what they’re designed for will always enjoy their work and find purpose and meaning therein. Show me someone who loves their job to the point of eagerness to do more and I’ll show you someone who’s doing what they’re designed to do. As we will see below, this is a truth we can sink our teeth into.

For example, our family “Canine Clean-Up Crew”. Dogs like Trooper are always glad to pitch in on cleaning the pots, pans, and containers, dishes, lids, you name it– the bigger the job, the better! This also includes any food left on children’s plates (or anyone’s who didn’t like it or whose eyes are bigger than their stomachs). Then, he receives double the joy when we praise him for a job well-done.

Why? Because that’s how the Lord designed them—big appetites, rough tongues, strong, sharp, teeth, willingness to eat just about anything, and a loyal desire to please their favorite humans.

We may wish sometimes that our kids were like this, less picky in their eating habits, having better appetites, and more interested in pleasing their parents. But as we consider it further, we can be glad they weren’t designed like dogs— would we want our kids to eat too much, and have such sharp teeth and rough tongues?

Getting back to doggie-design—these folks really shine at holiday gatherings. Yesterday, Thanksgiving Day, we hosted another family for dinner and dessert. Talk about “exceeding expectations” on job performance—our “Canine Clean-Up Crew” rose to the challenge—no leftover left behind (well, not on the pots, pans, and dishes we gave him)! We couldn’t ask for a better attitude, aptitude, more enthusiasm for digging into his assignment. Nor could we ask for a better outcome as a result.

Yet, as great as dogs are at being canine clean-up crews, there are many things they’re not designed to do. For example, if dogs could talk, they’d tell you dogs don’t talk (you know what I mean)! As often as I talk to Trooper and other dogs we’ve had, you’d think he/they would’ve gotten it after a year or two. But he/they never talk back (ok, some prefer it that way, but that’s not the point here!). For almost six years now, I’ve been asking Trooper if he knows how to say all kinds of stuff, but alas, all I get is an adorable, big-eyed, expression of curiosity. As if he’s thinking, “Why would you expect me to say anything besides ‘woof’, ‘rowf”, or ‘arf’? Can’t you understand “dog”?!”

Meanwhile, my eighteen-month old grandson can say all kinds of things— all his dad has to do is ask him a question, and he answers—in our native language no less. Same with our other grandkids, and own kids.

Does anyone ask their dogs “why can’t you talk like my kids and grandkids do?” I hope not!

So why do parents, grandparents, leaders, teachers, bosses, etc. expect their kids, grandkids, students, and followers/subordinates to do something they’re not designed to do? Or, worse yet, compare them to those who are designed for that and berate them for not measuring up?

Consider the implications for families, teams, and any kind of group. If you’ve ever had trouble determining your place or role in one, it’s because you’re still not totally sure of your design. Or, perhaps you are, but that place/role is “taken”. That’s discouraging. I know, because I’ve been there. If that happens, we have different options:

1. See if there’s room for two of you to do the same kind of thing, as partners, working together for the good of the group. Each of you can contribute your own unique aspect of design, since no one is created exactly like someone else. For example, worship teams can have more than one guitar player;

2. Branch out into an adjacent, similar, role that expands on your design and gives you a valued and valuable place in the group. For example, if the worship team already does have enough guitar players, learn and play the mandolin. I’ve actually done this, and it’s worked well and appreciated.

3. Only if neither of the above options work– Find another group or team. Although we can’t do this with families, we can tell our families our predicament and they can help us find our place.

If you are the team/group leader, ask yourself, “How can I give everyone on my team the best opportunity to do what they do best?”  In other words, assign according to design.

This worked wonderfully on our TESL team when my husband and I taught civil servants for the government in an overseas country. My husband and I, American native speakers, taught alongside four advanced-level nationals. Besides all of us, we had a female national boss, and a male advisor from the British Consul.

How could this work, with all the diversity and possible power struggle between the boss and the B.C. guy? First—the two leaders each did what they were designed, gifted, and assigned to do, staying within their “sphere” so that they complemented rather than competed with one another.

Our boss, a gifted manager, continued to manage well. The advisor trained us, advised the team, and gave helpful suggestions, which the boss received gladly. Then they collaborated to assign us roles that fit us best. While I don’t remember all, I do remember that they had me teach speaking and had T. teach grammar. T., a shy national, wanted nothing to do with speaking, but she really loved explaining the finer points of grammar. Me, the American extrovert, loved relating to class members and getting them to talk and have a good time together. As to teaching grammar, I’d just as soon endure a root canal! Thanks to wise leadership, who assigned according to design, we each gladly performed at our peak, the team benefitted, and the students learned more.

Scripture confirms serving and contributing according to our design in many places. To quote a few:

“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” 1 Cor. 12:4-7

“For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them:…” Rom. 12:4-6a

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” Eph. 2:10

Does this mean we should never serve in ways we don’t like? No—there will always be stuff that needs to get done that no one else wants to do. That’s where we, like Jesus in the Upper Room, step in and serve humbly and willingly. Even if it means washing dirty feet and appearing “lower class” in the process. (see Jn. 13:1-5) Let’s face it, if there aren’t any dogs like Trooper around, those pots, pans, and dishes will never get washed. (Although, actually, we should wash them afterwards anyway)!

People (and dogs) who get the chance to do what they do best benefit everyone around them. I’m certainly grateful I didn’t have to lick food stuck on pots and pans or left on people’s plates—my tongue isn’t rough enough, and I find it a bit disgusting—just not my design!

And I assure you, this theory is not just a bunch of “dog-wash”!

The Beauty of Mutual Unconditional Love

Dec. 8^th, 2022, with a great year behind and entering into the joys of Christmas season events, the outlook changed in an instant when I suddenly fell off the fifth stair going up. With no memory of falling, or anything in between, I found myself on the floor, a few feet away from the bottom step, in excruciating pain.

How did that happen? Our sweet, beloved, golden-retriever Trooper, who a moment before had been at my side, darted down the stairs to check out a serviceman coming in the front door. The last I remember before falling, I had turned to the right to try to intercept him. Apparently I slipped and fell.

When he heard me screaming out in pain, the serviceman (acquaintance from church)  backed away, stayed out, and shut the door. (In his culture, people are embarrassed by showing or seeing emotion). Trooper, meanwhile, looking distressed, stood by me, his eyes asking, “What happened?”

In the next two hours I’d coaxed the serviceman in, calmed him down, called my husband who came home, and tried to get rid of the pain. All the while, Trooper bounced back and forth between all of us, trying to figure things out.

Once I realized I couldn’t deny the seriousness (or pain) of the injury, we called 911 and off I went to the ER, and then another hospital for surgery and stay. The prayer chain started, and within another few hours our whole multi-ethnic church knew I’d had a terrible accident, and was hospitalized.

One family, friends who also have a dog, took Trooper for the next few days. The mom later told me—“He looked so upset. He wouldn’t settle down…just kept pacing and looking around—like he was asking where you were and what happened! He was like that the whole time you were gone!”

Many people told us, “You need to rehome your dog. He’s too big. It’s dangerous for you to keep him. Look what happened. How do you know that won’t happen again, or worse?”

Laying in my hospital bed, fresh from emergency hip replacement surgery, I refused. “We will do our best to keep him. He’s part of our family.”

“But he’s the one who made you fall!”

In a way, yes. In other ways, no. Yes, he did dart down the stairs toward the front door, which did cause me to panic and turn. But, did I have to panic? Did I have to turn? Did I even have to try to bring him upstairs with me? Did I/we even have to keep hardwood floors in our house? Each of the above I did for good reason, but did I have to?

These are the kinds of questions we need to ask ourselves when we start to blame someone for doing something that causes us pain. Even though they’re the direct cause, how much could we prevent?

Also, even if we couldn’t have prevented it, we can still choose not to hold them responsible to carry the blame, let alone the shame. Yes, I and others could blame Trooper, since his action precipitated my fall and broken hip. But we don’t have to hold it against him.

One thing that helps us to forgive is understanding. In this case, it means remembering that Trooper, after all, is a dog. He’s not a human who plans evil, or even a human who hurts others by their carelessness. He’s a dog. A sweet, friendly, dog who, in his golden-retriever way, means well, but can’t help how he’s designed, or his limitations. Young golden retrievers play, run, and investigate sounds, smells, and interesting new humans. They perk up and run to the sound of interesting humans opening front doors! So, instead of condemning him, I am “mindful of his frame”, in the same way the Lord understands us.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust.” (Ps. 103:13-14a)  (If you think being a dog is limiting, try being dust!)

Unconditional love breeds that kind of understanding. Unconditional love says, “You don’t have to perform a certain way or meet certain standards and expectations for me to love you. I’ll love and keep loving you no matter what you do or don’t do, and extend grace accordingly.”

For his part, even though he’s “just a dog”, Trooper has demonstrated unconditional love, resulting in grace toward me. However much a dog can understand and feel, he missed me when I was gone. And he didn’t hold it against me when, for four weeks, I couldn’t play with him, and his human papa scolded him for getting too close to me. Somehow he “understood” that I was injured, and “papa” was protecting me. He also didn’t hold it against me when I couldn’t take him for a walk for eight weeks, and not only that, when “papa” did, we couldn’t go all together. He didn’t even complain when I couldn’t feed him or let him outside the first few weeks. Or when he got barricaded in the family room the first two weeks whenever “papa” had to go to the office to work. Not even when I couldn’t even come downstairs the whole first week back from the hospital to give him attention did he question or spurn my love. He’d just come up to my room when he was allowed and “papa” was home, and gently visit me.

We’ve accommodated each other, Trooper and I. He approaches me gently, instead of catapulting toward me, about to bowl me over. In turn, I spend time with him out in our yard, when the weather’s nice enough, and play with him the best I can.

He sacrificed some freedom and play-time without really knowing why. I’ve sacrificed some safety/lack of risk to have him near and here. And I do know why.

Which is the greater unconditional love? Both are. To sacrifice without understanding why signifies complete trust in the object of love, without demanding proof. To sacrifice with understanding why signifies complete acceptance of where they’re at and who they are.

Sure, unconditional love involves risks, yet overcomes the fear of them. “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear…” (1 Jn. 4:18). How do we get that kind of love?

“We love because He (God) first loved us.” (1 Jn. 4:19). His love not only enables us to love unconditionally, it also removes the fear of being hurt by that, as we trust Him, in His love, to take care of us, no matter how whoever we love responds.

When unconditional love becomes mutual, everyone wins. This happened with Trooper and me. He got to not only stay with us, but even those who said we should rehome him have admitted what a blessing he is to our home and whoever he meets and greets (always enthusiastically). For me, I get to enjoy him inside and outside our home in so many ways, and he’s been a major comfort-companion during my recovery, especially in those early, difficult, days.

Mutual unconditional love isn’t choice without emotion, though. We want to do things together! We delight in each other—playing, showing affection, walking, etc. It also brings others into the love-circle. There’s no way I can walk our big, strong, dog by myself. My husband and I, who also love each other, enjoy walking Trooper every day possible, and bringing him on hikes. Three-way unconditional love multiplies the blessing exponentially—in the giving, receiving, observing, and joy of it all!

To me, he’s never “the dog that made me fall”, and to him, I’m never “the lady that took the fun out of life for a while”. We continue to be each other’s special buddies, even more now that we’ve gone through this trial together—bonding further.

If this could happen between a dog and his human “mama”, imagine how much more it can happen between two people, if we let it. Such is the beauty of mutual unconditional love. (1 Cor. 13:4-8a)

On Not Coming on Too Strong

Have you ever met someone that “comes on too strong”? We can interpret “strong” in many ways—aggressive, opinionated, overbearing, talkative, friendly, enthusiastic, etc. While some of these are obviously negative, some traits can be positive, such as friendly and engaging. Until they’re overdone and become a nuisance.

Our dog Trooper taught me a lot about this—what it looks like and what happens when we come on too strong. In one way, he can’t help being strong—as a 65 lb. male, golden retriever, that’s part of who he is—strong.

Most of the time, we’re thankful for that. It means he can tackle any intruder that tries to come into our house (even if it’s just pouncing on him and licking him into submission). Also, he can protect us, if necessary, against other dogs, mean animals, “bad guys”, etc., outside our home. He’s even strong enough to bring in those heavy boxes of dog food that get delivered on order to our front porch—if I could somehow train him to do so—maybe tell him, “Look, if you don’t work, you don’t eat!”

He’s also strong in the sense of being healthy, something else we, as his human “mom and dad” are thankful for—able to run and play, almost never ill in the 4-plus years we’ve had him, lower vet bills, etc.

Yet, when it comes to adding his personality to his physical strength and size, it sometimes produces the “coming-on-too-strong” effect. Such as when he jumps up on people—especially lightweight and little people—it can be overwhelming. And when he charges someone at a run, jumping on them, front paws out for added pushing impact, that can be downright overwhelming!

As a lightweight adult female, I speak from experience, having almost been knocked over backwards by my exuberant, playful, friendly, pup. This happens often, and always by surprise. We’ll be hanging out in the yard, he’ll be running happily, when all of a sudden, he wants to share the love and fun—and—“Whomp!” “Hey mom, I’m here! Action time! Wanna play, wanna play?! Let’s go!”—tail wagging the whole time, grinning with that sweet golden doggie-smile—not realizing that his extreme enthusiasm and exuberance can literally bowl me over!

Naturally, I back away from that. All people do. Our self-preservation instinct kicks in when something powerful comes charging at us at high velocity—we either move away to avoid it or put our hand(s) out to stop it from high-impact contact. If the “charger” happens to be an extremely excited and friendly dog, the hand-stop is accompanied by exhortation— “Down boy/girl!” “No jumping!”, or just “Down!/No!”

In other words, we don’t like it. We do what we can to avoid it. Meanwhile, our sweet dog doesn’t quite understand when we “reject” him like that. I can picture his doggie mind saying “What? I thought you loved me! You usually want to be near me and hang out together. Why don’t you want to now? It’s not like I just rolled in poop or something!”

Then I explain to him, again, what’s going on, and why the normally affectionate and friendly human “mom” is backing away from him. “Trooper,” I tell him, as he looks up at me with those soulful eyes, “I love you, but it’s overwhelming when you charge at me like that. You can’t come on that strong!”

Indeed. Time to look in the mirror and remind myself— “Don’t come on too strong with people!” Encouraging, yes. “Pouring it on”, no. Friendly, yes. Gregarious, no. Conversational, yes. Garrulous (talking too much), no. Enthusiastic, yes. Hyper, no.  Entertaining, yes. Attention-grabbing, no. And so on.

Strengths taken to an extreme morph into weaknesses. Attractions become detractions at that point. Such as charm when it becomes manipulative. Or excellence when it becomes perfectionism. Or loyalty when it becomes clinginess. Or firmness when it becomes inflexibility. You get the idea.

Possibly the saddest part of coming on too strong is that it’s counterproductive—it produces the exact opposite effect we’re trying/hoping to gain from it. Conversely, when we hold back and rein it in, we gain our desired outcome.

Back to Trooper, our dog, for instance. He’s going after fun, affection, and affirmation when he comes charging at me (or others) but gets avoidance and scolding instead.

Contrast that with when he’s just sitting or lying calmly on the sofa or rug or top of the stairs (his favorite places). Up comes his human mom (or others), petting, hugging, and snuggling with him, telling him how sweet and cute he is.

When he thumps his tail happily, and/or snuggles back and licks me in response, everybody’s happy, and the bonding hormones roll. If he turns over for a belly rub and I give him one, he’s even happier, so am I, and that oxytocin keeps on multiplying. If he decides he’s had enough of all the snuggling, and moves away for some privacy, he’s telling me, “Now you’re coming on too strong!”

For the person that wants others to listen to them—the more they talk, the more people tune out what to them has become “meaningless chatter”. But if that person stays quiet long enough, others will ask them what they think.

“The heart of the wise makes their mouths prudent and makes their lips persuasive.” (Prov. 16:23)

For the person that’s trying to motivate others to do their best—the more they criticize them for lack of perfection, the more others give up out of hopelessness or stop trying out of resentment. But if that person gives others space, grace, and compliments for what they get right, they’ll have the confidence and reasons to shine.

For the person that sincerely wants to build relationships—the more they pour on the charm and encouragement, the more others distrust what appears to be phoniness and flattery. But when they offer timely, specific, and accurate words of encouragement, as well as authentic interest in friendship, others will trust them and their intentions.

Let’s all learn from our dog Trooper—the guy who gets all the love, attention, and fun he really enjoys, when he doesn’t come on too strong!

Unwavering Expectant Hope in Covid-Christmas Times

What is hope?  Some would answer it relates to something you want to happen, a desire for something you consider good.  Such as, “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow, so we can still have our picnic.”  Or, “I hope I get accepted into this prestigious university.” 

But what happens if our hope conflicts with someone else’s?  Such as the farmer who’s hoping for rain tomorrow so his crops can flourish?  Or the other applicants to the same university, when acceptance is limited to a favored few?  In these types of cases, how much can we hope, and how much “right” do we have to do so? 

No one knows. If we don’t know, we can’t be sure, and if we can’t be sure, we can’t expect anything. 

If we have no real expectation, then, can we really call that “hope”?  Not in the fullest sense of the word.  Without any real expectation, based on past experience or some kind of well-reasoned assurance, such “hope” is really just wishful thinking. 

True hope implies a level of trust — trust in the power, ability, and willingness of whoever can fulfill that hope to do so.  Plus the assurance that we have done what we can and need to establish good reason for hope. 

Going back to the example of someone hoping to get into a good university:  If that person has never studied, their transcripts are sub-standard, and there’s no one to get him in by influence or bribes, they have little to no real hope. 

On the other hand, if they have an excellent academic GPA plus a proven track record of good character, their hope is well-grounded, although still not 100%, since they may be competing against others who have the same credentials. 

Add this– what if their dad is the university President and all the deans have known him/her since childhood?  And— they’ve all told him “don’t worry, we’ll save a spot for you.”  Now that’s real hope! 

Closer to home (literally)— I remember our son flying (by plane) home from college for Christmas break, and waiting for him to arrive, hoping he’d get here soon!  Since I knew he’d already landed, gotten his luggage, and gotten picked up by my husband, my hope was expectant.  Even though I couldn’t be 100% sure, such hope was based on reasonable trust.  And, thank the Lord, they did arrive home safely!

Our sweet dog reminds us of expectant hope when he sits patiently by our front door, leash attached, waiting for us to take him on a walk.  If dogs could analyze these things, and talk, he’d tell you he knew what leash-attaching means, especially coupled with his humans putting on their shoes and jackets and talking to him.

Even when my husband has had to go change, he’s still waited peacefully and patiently.  Why?  Because his doggy-perception gave him assurance, based on evidence, precedent, and knowing his humans wouldn’t deceive him. 

This assurance gives him expectant hope, which in turn gives him peace and patience.  No need to bark or jump or give up and lay down.  Just wait—expectantly—with real hope.  Which has been rewarded when we’ve opened the door and taken him out with us.  This has then led to even firmer hope next time.

When we celebrate Christmas, we celebrate the Hope of the world, coming to dwell among us—

—“Immanuel”—God With Us. (Is. 7:14). 

“For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”  (Is.9:6)

The Jewish people in the time of Jesus’ sojourn on earth all had an expectant hope that Messiah, the Promised One, would come to rescue them from bondage, sin, and death.  When He came, some believed that promise was fulfilled and rejoiced in their hope realized.  Others refused to believe, and missed out. 

Since then, for over two thousand years, the world has seen four kinds of people:  

First, those who have that vague kind of “hope” that only wishes things would get better. 

Second, those who’ve given up hope and resigned themselves to the evils of this world. 

Third, those who have not hope and are trying to take care of things themselves because they don’t trust anyone else to. 

Fourth, those who rejoice in our hope realized when Jesus, the Fulfillment of God’s promise, God Incarnate, came to dwell among us!

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…the Word became flesh and dwelt among us…”  Jn. 1:1, 14 

Phil. 2:5-7 affirms that Messiah Jesus, “…being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature (form)of a servant, being made in human likeness.”  (Read through verse 11 to get the full impact and implication of this)

Those in this fourth category can live patiently, peacefully, joyfully, with expectant hope for the best, even when things feel much worse now—

“And we know that God works all things together for good, for those who love Him…” Rom. 8:28. 

What is hope? 

H olding

O nto

P romises

E ternal

…Based on the character, wisdom, and power of our sovereign Lord Who’s proven Himself trustworthy.

If our dog “felt” he could wait with expectant hope for us to take him for a walk, how much more should we be able to rest in that since the first Christmas?  Nothing, not even Covid, can take that away!