Thorns

This morning, Tasha, our three-legged-dog, decided to do her own thing instead of following me home from dropping the kids off at school. I waited for her and called her a few times, but she went the opposite direction so I left her and walked laps around the lake. As I approached the footpath to school, I could hear her yelping - not the rude, impatient high-pitched bark she does to go outside, but consistent yelping that reminded me of the kid in A Christmas Story yelling "Don't leave me, come back!" Clearly, she was in trouble, so I slowed down and searched the brush beside the road for her. When I found her, she was chest deep in a thorn thicket on the downward slope of the hill. Stuck. If she had four legs, she might have been able to get out, but she was stuck.

I thought about leaving her because it was her own fault she was stuck in a thicket. If she had followed me home like she normally does, she wouldn't have been stuck. Those thorns were thick, and there were little ones like razor blades and inch long ones that looked ready to rip me to shreds. She just kept whimpering at me with sad eyes, so I stomped into the thorns to get her out. I was bared-legged and bare-armed and the bushes were thigh high, so the best I could do was stand on them so she could go over them. She slowly made her way up and over the thorns and then waited on the other side to make sure I came out. I don't know what she thought she would do to help me if I got stuck, but at least she waited. I came out bloody and impaled with splinters. She went to the lake for a recovery swim.

As I walked home, I thought about how I often go my own way and find myself stuck in a mess, needing rescuing. How God could look at me and say, "You should have followed me, get your own self out of the thorns" but He didn't. He comes to my rescue every time. Jesus literally wore thorns for me. I am just as handicapped by my sin as my dog is by her missing leg, and I need rescuing when I go astray but I have a God who will stomp into the thicket and make a way out for me.

I was humbled this morning by a dog, some thorns, and Jesus.