Since owning a dog, I've become aware of so many parallels of our relationship (hers and mine) to spiritual life. Maggie has taught and is teaching me much about myself, about God, his character and more. Sometimes Maggie represents me; sometimes she represents elements of God's character. I'd like to share some of these insights and so as not to be overwhelming, in chapters along the way.
This is an image that was speaking to me today. And definitely still a journey in progress.
Maggie is very attached to me and when she can't find me, she becomes somewhat frantic. As in haphazardly trotting all over the place turning her head this way and that, obviously looking for me. Her movements are sporadic and anxious and also a bit entertaining. I wish I had a video of it, but it's not something I can capture (often I'm not seeing it since she's not in my presence, but I have seen pieces in situations where there are so many people around that she loses me). She'll continue this until she finds me - usually when I see her or hear someone else telling her where I am -and then I call her, she comes to me and immediately settles. Often just to wander away again. Sometimes to come to be petted and lay down. But knowing where I am is all it takes.
As I was sitting with God this morning and reflecting on “there is no one who always does what is right, not even one!... no one who seeks after God alone. All have wandered from God's ways” (Romans 3:10-12), I relate this to my own seeking. Looking frantically for that which will somehow satisfy my longings, my hopes and desires. Looking every which way for something to soothe. Sensing God's longing for me to find him in the searching; to find his presence and immediately be settled. As I watch Maggie visibly relax when she sees me, or curled up at my feet in utter contentment, I find myself longing for that same contentment, so often elusive. In the search for external peace, belonging, value, life, connection, etc., they never fully satisfy. And yet I continue to haphazardly grasp at what gives the illusion that it could fulfill. In my head, I know that the answer is Jesus; that in him is life and peace and belonging and everything else that I seek. But when it hasn't made it's way to my core or I forget the settledness I once felt with him, I continue the hunt. Hurried. Anxious. Attempting to find that one person or thing or feeling that will satisfy my restlessness in the moment. And futile.
Until he calls out, reminding me to look for his face and revealing where he is, and I allow myself to receive and be settled. To breathe a big sigh of relief, just as my puppy does in her contentment.
