One of our dogs did not make it home from their night-time hunt last Wednesday. No sign of him since; he is most likely dead--a victim of the coyotes who live across our creek, with whom our dogs were "singing" the night of his disappearance. Of all our "mutts" Wilbur was a favorite to both me and my wife. At the same time, I could not choose one of the remaining six to exchange for Wilbur's return.
Both of us are pretty sad about losing this charming, frisky little dog, but yesterday and today, God has spoken to me about the state of my heart in view of this situation. Events like this sometimes help us focus on just what is important in our lives. I am literally "mourning" the loss of a dog, even to the point of tears. OK, how does that fit in with the overall approach to life which I am demonstrating, day in and day out?
My Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, is despised and rejected by most all the population of this country and the world. Am I mourning that state of affairs?
During the hour it has taken me to put this post together, over 6000 souls have gone out into eternity. Statistically, most of them were lost and are now in Hell. Every day, over 150,000 people die, going into eternity, mostly unprepared, lost forever. Am I mourning over those who will die tomorrow, and next week, and next year (56 million!)......most of them dying without Christ?
I am involved in ministry to men in prison. Their lives are shattered, families destroyed, children forever affected. Just as in the "free world" a remnant has been called out, been born again by the Spirit of God, and we try to teach these men and disciple them. In a unit with 300 inmates, we might see 20 or so in a worship service. Those other men, some might be saved, most probably not. How great is my burden for them?
With these questions on my heart, I say "Thanks, Wilbur! You were a good companion, and now when I remember you, I'll have some better perspective on my life"
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2 comments:
Good. Good perspective. I am for Wilbur.
My own dear friend "Winnie", a Gold Retriever/Border Collie/Black Lab/Panda/Republican dog had to be put down last winter. She was 15. She was MY dog for much of my childhood. I had/have similar experience when I think of her. How anthropamorphically selfish I find myself sometimes.
My own brother is lost and bound for hell without Christ at this time and I'm whimpering about a sweet old dog. Shame on me. But again, like you, I can be thankful that God put such a simple, humble creature in my path to be His 2x4 across my flint-hard forehead.
Sometimes I need a donkey(or dog) to tell me when I'm off track.
Good post brother, press on.
Excellent thoughts, and heartbreaking sentiments with regard to this lost world.
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