Dog Days

“But those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength; they rise up as if they had eagles’ wings, they run without growing weary, they walk without getting tired.” Isaiah 40:31

“Take delight in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4

Have you ever wanted something? I mean really, really wanted something? No, I mean, really, really, really wanted something? Wanted it so deeply that it felt like a part of your soul was missing without it? I’m not talking about the latest technological gadget or that really expensive, high-end sports car that parks itself and has the fancy butterfly-doors. No. I’m talking about a fundamental need of your truest-self. A vessel that can’t be filled, a crack that can’t be mended, an empty chasm that can’t be traversed… that kind of want. Have you ever had that?

My dog is fifteen-years-old. That’s an old dog in anyone’s book. If you subscribe to the theory that dogs age seven years for each of our one, he’s 105, y’all. That’s old. For the most part, he really isn’t showing his age. He’s still a happy, warm, attentive companion… But… He does sleep... a lot… and has gas… and takes a handful of pills each morning… and night… Oh, and he goes to bed promptly at 7:30 each night after Murder She Wrote (that last part may be an exaggeration, but I’m painting a word picture here, so stick with me). All this to say, I have an old dog. He’s been part of our family for over 10 years now and he has blessed us in abundant ways.

However… Like most old people, he is pretty particular about his routine. Each morning he and I get up, he goes outside and then I give him a scoop of doggie-kibble and fresh water. He eats, I make coffee, we sit down on the couch to spend some quiet time in the Bible and in prayer and then we start our day. Simple. Efficient. Routine. However… recently there was a plot twist. After pretty much 10 years of doing this every day, we had to diverge from the routine. My 15-year old, 17 pound, mixed-breed-of-a-nondescript-variety developed a liver condition. No sweat, nothing major. Just give him a liver pill each morning… on an empty stomach… and wait an hour before feeding him his breakfast. (Insert dramatic music swell here.)

Do you know how hard it is to tell your dog, who by the way doesn’t speak a stitch of English, that he has to wait an hour after waking up to eat his breakfast? Especially after he’s been eating his breakfast every day for 10 years after immediately waking up and using the facilities?

Poor old man. To say he was confused is an understatement. He was devastated. He was heartbroken. Remember that longing I talked about in the first paragraph? That was my dog’s longing for his breakfast. Empty vessel… cracked... chasm... Folks, this four-legged-bag-of-fur has little he enjoys in life more than his morning constitutional succeeded by kibble. Food is his one joy. Food is his one delight. Food is the balm to his soul. It is love in a stainless steel bowl. Quite simply, food is life. Making him wait an hour was equal to torture… Poor old man. Poor, poor guy. (I hope you’re feeling the devastation here.)

I told you of our old routine, now let me tell you our new one. Each morning he and I get up, he goes outside and then I give him his liver pill and fresh water. He whines, I make coffee, he whines some more, we sit down on the couch (he whines) to spend some quiet time (he whines) in the Bible (he whines) and (he whines) in (he whines) prayer (he whines) AndThenWeStartOurDayAfteIFinallyGiveHimAScoopOfFood so he will STOP WHINING!!!

Let me make this clear. My intention, as a dog-parent, in this situation is to lovingly care for my pooch. He needs the liver pill. It is for his best interest. Does my dog understand this? Of course not. All he understands is that he isn’t getting his kibble and in normal circumstances I am the source of the kibble. He feels deprived and desperate and denied in his deepest heart's desire: FOOD! And it’s all my fault. Hence the whining. The incessant, insistent whining.

Our morning routine is upended. For him and me. He whines, I pat. He whines, I shush. He whines, I snuggle, cajole, rationalize, pontificate, lecture my dog (who, again mind you, speaks NO ENGLISH) that “I will give you your food as soon as I can.” That “I know you’re hungry,” “I’m sorry for your suffering.” “I would if I could but the time isn’t right.” “I want you to have what you want. I want to give you your desires, but for you the best thing right now is to wait for the right time.” “Wait, baby-boy,” (yes, I call my 105-people-year-old-dog “baby-boy”) “and you will get the deepest desires of your heart because it is my deepest desire to fill your every need and to relish the happiness you get from the stainless steel bowl filled with kibble.”

Does this sound like a loving dog-parent?

Does it remind you of anyone you know? Here’s a hint, you’re the dog in this scenario. Or I am. Or we all are.

And we have a loving God-parent who wants to give us the deepest desires of our hearts. Fortunately, or unfortunately, our desires aren’t for just dog kibble. (And hopefully, you don't have a deep desire for food, although I know that is a stark reality for many.) Our desire is for a mended relationship… an end to pain, emotional and physical… a sense of purpose… a sense of belonging… provision… deliverance… certainly… love. We cry out to God, just like my little four-legged friend. Whining and crying for God’s work to happen in our lives NOW! We don’t want to wait for it. We want it now. Yesterday if possible. But God is a loving, kind, all knowing God and he knows the timeline of humanity. He knows the timeline of you and me. He knows when the time is right to meet your deepest desire.

So here’s the thing. Waiting is hard. Sometimes, devastatingly hard. Prayers are answered with a “yes”, and sometimes “no”, but many times prayers are answered with a “not yet”. We don’t understand, just like a dog that doesn’t speak English, but unlike a dog, we can remember that our God-parent loves us infinitely and will give us the deepest desires of our heart. All we have to do is wait.