I’m jamming to my favorite song, keeping track of my speed (if you’ve kept up with recent posts, you know my tendency to do the opposite), when I hear…
“What is that in the road?” my friend asked from the passenger seat.
I saw a pair of eyes, but as i drew a few seconds closer, I saw a Rottweiler staring at me.
I slammed on my breaks. We both screamed like scared cheerleaders. After I avoided plowing into him (I call it a male because it’s hard for me to picture Rottweilers as girls…they must be asexual, right?), the dog ran into the grass nearby. The quiet of the night kept me from causing any traffic.
I saw the Rottweiler nearly get hit by another car running away from mine.
Each time the Rottweiler stared at the coming headlights and only ran as they came within mere feet. I slowed my speed to about 10 mph to avoid any potential run-ins with the Rottweiler in the next few minutes. But then I thought about the person that might be missing him. I pictured the black dog looking at me earlier like a deer in headlights. I remembered seeing his collar, thinking it might mean he lived nearby.
So, I turned my car around and went back for him. If he had a collar, I knew the collar meant it might come with a number to call. I spotted him along the side of the road. I pulled into the closest neighborhood and my friend and I jumped out of my car.
“Please, don’t have rabies,” I said.
My friend laughed. “That would happen to us,” she said. “We try to help, and the dog has rabies.”
I inched closer toward the dog 10 feet away, calling out to him to avoid scaring him. But I guess I called out with too much gusto. The Rottweiler glanced toward me and took off in the other direction. I saw a car coming and screamed out for the dog.
He didn’t get hurt. The driver spotted it and slowed as I had, giving the Rottweiler enough time to become aware of the coming car and get out of the way.
We tried again to find the little guy, but we didn’t see him again.
We might shake our heads at this dog and his poor choices. But don’t we do the same in our faith? We pity him. But aren’t we just like him?
How many times have I acted like this Rottweiler? Refusing to accept God’s help even when I know he’s always nearby. I make the choice to do it my way and stare at danger as it comes plowing toward me. God says, “Trust me. I’ll save you. I’ll give you life.” And we run from him.
He says, “Follow me, and I’ll bring you home.” And we run from him.
I wish I could say I run toward him. Often I don’t. Do you accept his help, or do you run?