As I begin to type this it is 8:09 am. The temperature outside is 30 degrees. Just ten minutes ago, I was taking care of my dogs so I could come back inside and set to work without distractions or other obligations on my mind.
Their water dish was still about half full, but it was half full of ice. So I got a pitcher of hot water and poured it over the top of what was there.
Einstein, the German Shepherd, who had not had his morning drink, attempted to drink even as I was pouring the hot water over the ice. He stopped, tried again, disliked the feeling, and looked up at me as though to say, "Is this some kind of sick joke? I've been shut up all night; I've just finished my breakfast of dry dog cereal, and now you give me this 'magic' water that bites like a junkyard dog! Don't you care that I'm dying of thirst here? Must you cause me pain?"
I bent, and with my index finger, stirred the water for a few seconds, until the ice at the bottom cooled the water at the top enough for him to drink comfortably. In fact, now it was not only comfortable to drink, but being very cold outside, I imagined that the warm water would be a benefit to him over the cold water. (I'm not a Vet, but after all, don't we enjoy a warm drink on a cold day; especially if we have to work outside?)
As I reentered the house and put the pitcher away, it occurred to me that to Einstein, I must truly be a god. He has needs, and I meet them without being asked. When he does ask, in his doggie way, I interpret his wordless, feeble attempts to communicate his need, and I meet them gladly because I care for him. When the water hurt, I 'magically' stuck my finger into it, and miraculously transformed it into something palatable for him.
As a result of these things I do for him, he worships me. When I come home, he leaps with joy to see me. When I go outside after several hours of work (or whatever), he is so excited to see me that he spins in circles, licks my hands, sits by me or in front of me and lifts a paw. I tell him to do it so often, he assumes that I derive some great pleasure from seeing his paw come up, so up it comes, without provocation and without command. He wants to please his master. He trusts his master. He loves his master, unconditionally. I know that if I failed to feed him for a couple of days, and ignored him for several days, he would still act this way toward me; because in his experience my presence means needs met, love offered.
This is doggie faith.
In Einstien's case, it is a mindless, conditioned sort of faith. What God asks of us though, is faith based upon love. He can do that, because He gives the love so that we might return it.
I love my wife, and she loves me. I am confident that all she does for me and the way she acts toward me, proceeds from that love; even when she is angry with me.
I do not think she loves me because she meets my needs or gives me what I want. I understand that because of her love, I can expect the best from her. I rest in her love. When the circumstances of my life are at their worst...when life 'bites' like Einstein's water...that is when resting in her love becomes most important. No matter where I am, or what discomfort or pain I am suffering, the knowledge that at the end of the day I will be with her, in the comfort of her presence, brings me rest in the midst of strife.
Let us not come short of His rest, through unbelief, which is disobedience, which is lovelessnesss.
Whether God wants to change our circumstances, or teach us something by taking us through a trial, or reveal Himself to us in our heart of hearts and continue His inward work to make us more like His Son, it is all as easy to Him as it was for me to stir my dog's water and make it cooler.
I understood the process. The hot water on top would begin to melt the ice below. The cool water off the ice below would neutralize the temperature of the water on top. As they mixed, the water would reach a lukewarm state, and the dog could drink.
There are those who could be much more technical than I about the physical processes taking place there. But the difference between those 'scientific-types' and myself is nothing compared to the difference between me and the dog.
Yet the difference between God and us is infinitely greater than the difference between me and Einstein.
If he thought sticking a finger into the water cooled it, (if he was even able to give it that much thought...let's pretend he was) that was much closer to understanding me, than I can come to understanding how God can use His 'little finger' to stir and soften a hardened heart. It is so far beyond me how He can do the things He does, that I find myself jumping for joy at His presence, spinning in circles at any evidence of His moving, lifting my paw just because I think He wants me to, because He has asked me to in the past.
I don't know how He upholds all things by the word of His power. I don't know how He considered the shedding of His Son's blood to be payment in full for my sin. I don't understand the significance of a mercy seat and the application of blood there, and all the divine workings of the office of High Priest in heaven...for me.
I don't understand how He calls us to action, and to work, and to battle against spiritual forces in the heavenly places...promises us tribulation and testings...and in the same breath offers us peace and rest. But He does, and the bible says that our entering into that rest at His command, is by faith. Belief. It is what (only what) pleases Him.
I don't ask much from Einstein. I do all that I do for him because I love my dog. But if I carried a dish of food or water to him and he stood at a distance, refusing to partake of it, looking at me and the dish with suspicion and would not come when I called, then I would be disappointed that we did not have a better relationship, based on trust, and I would be angry with him for rejecting that which I know is best for him.
"Therefore, let us fear lest, while a promise remains of entering His rest, any one of you should seem to have come short of it."
Let's take special note here, that it is not our rest. It is His rest. Verse 4 says that God rested from all His works on the seventh day, and verse 10 says that it is by entering HIS rest, not our own, that we rest from our works. When we rest from our work, it is a moment's respite. When we sit down, heave a sigh and look around, we will see more work waiting for us. If we think that work makes us acceptable to God, we will never feel accepted. There is always work to do.
But God's works were finished from the foundation of the world, and He rested. He never stopped 'working', but He was perfectly content with what He had done, and rested in His contentment.
That is the rest He invites us to, and it is entered by faith.
(Winter, 1998)
