Come to Me

I've always loved animals. One of my favorite volunteer jobs was working in an animal shelter in the Dallas area. I was so devoted to the homeless animals that I rescued a dog the day before I gave birth to my first son. Despite my husband's anger upon me accepting such a mission in my condition, he accompanied me and helped save the dog and the day.

Before moving to my current location, an area with few stray animals, people who knew me best were never surprised to hear of my animal escapades. Many friends and family adopted the animals I rescued. However, one October day in 1994, I encountered a stray dog that captured my heart.

At the time we lived in a subdivision outside the southern New Mexico city of Alamogordo. I was headed into town to run errands with my two preschool-aged boys in tow when I saw a little black dog cross in front of the gate that stood between our neighborhood and the highway. Despite my self-imposed rule not to rescue animals when my kids were in the car, I couldn't leave the scrawny dog so close to the road. I quickly devised a plan: the dog was small enough that I could hold him in my lap and drive back to my house. If he became dangerous, I would toss him out the window and keep my boys safe. Not the greatest plan, but it was a plan.

With my hastily devised strategy I pulled over, told the boys to stay put, and hopped out of the suburban. I quickly got the little stray's attention and started the typical, "Here, baby," accompanied with an outstretched hand as I crouched in the dirt. The dog was definitely shy and ran away when I invaded his space. At one point, I was able to touch his nose until his fear caused him to, once again, bounce out of reach.

After thirty minutes and no hope of success, I told the ragamuffin, "Sorry, bud, but I can't help you if you won't come to me." I turned and headed toward my truck. All of a sudden, the pitter patter of galloping paws caused me to stop dead in my tracks. As I turned to see what was happening, that crazy canine jumped on the back of my legs. Immediately upon impact he dashed a few feet away and, with his hind end up in the air, wagged his tail wildly. Somehow I had gotten through to the small homeless pup and after about five more minutes of coaxing, I cradled him in my arms. Fourteen years later, Watson is still a part of our family.

Before I was able to save Watson, he had to come to me. It's the same with God. He whispers, "Come to Me," as He stretches out a hand of welcome. If you are a Christian you've already accepted God's invitation of salvation, but did you know it doesn't end there? Once I rescued Watson we discovered he had a lot of issues. He had been severely abused and urinated whenever we approached him too quickly. Plus, he crouched in fear whenever we touched him. And, perhaps, most embarrassing, he wasn't neutered and disappeared for days at a time when overcome with the temptation to rendezvous with his cute little girlfriend that lived a couple of streets over.

How many of us, like Watson, were far from perfect when God rescued us? We all brought baggage into God's house and most of us probably still struggle with some of the contents. Not only does God eternally save us from sin, but it's an ongoing process as He works to save us from our everyday flesh. He constantly calls, "Come to Me." Some of us have been rejected, abused, beat down, unloved, but all of us have been sinful. However, the good news is that if we go to God with trust, He will save us from any condition that causes us to suffer.

After fourteen years, (and a certain operation) Watson doesn't wet when we approach him, he's no longer the neighborhood Casanova, and he's filled out nicely. However, he is still very sensitive and crouches when we reach for him, but I think he'll always do that because of earlier abuses. He doesn't like strangers and sometimes snaps at us if he feels threatened. It's hard for us to love on him like we do our others dogs who have never known abuse, but Watson has come a long way because he has learned to come to us in trust. He comes when we want to pet him, he comes when we need to nourish him, and he comes when it's time to take him to the vet.

Practical Christianity tells us that we need to go God when we need to be blessed, when we need spiritual nourishment, and even when it's time for us to be "doctored" because of our sin. Watson isn't perfect, but he's part of our family because he came to us. Christians aren't perfect either, but we improve every time we respond to God's prompts of "Come to Me." Going to God isn't only for our salvation; it's also required for our daily growth as believers. God loves it when we step toward Him in faith but, like Watson did with me fourteen years ago, God loves it when we trustingly run to Him with the pitter patter of galloping little "paws".

  

(c)2008 Shona Neff

Comments

[Brenda Thompson]

I liked this article. It flowed in a good way and didn't lose me in the process. LOL!

[Lorrie]

Thank you so much for that inspirtational, I am a petsitter and used to vollunteer at the humane society near me. That is such a heartwarming story about your dog.