Boys and Their Dogs...and the Glory of God

There's something about a boy and his dog. Boys like dogs. And when boys like to hunt, they really like dogs.

My brother has a history of bringing dogs home...and then leaving them for my parents to take care of. He never usually had more than one at a time, and the only reason they stayed at home was because he couldn't take them along to college. Ultimately, what he really wanted was a quality hunting dog.

We always had dogs and cats on the farm growing up, but eventually our dog population died out. In high school, my brother adopted his coach's German shorthair. (That put an end to our cat population.) I can't remember if this was the first dog...but it was one of the many. There was also a cocker spaniel, a couple strays, and finally a Springer Spaniel.

Maverick.

I didn't mind Maverick like I did some of the others. He didn't bite me (like the cocker spaniel) and didn't eat cats (like the German shorthair...of course, by then there were no cats left to eat). He was gentle and friendly and had large amber eyes that would search your own.

Maverick was also a little quircky, which caused my mom to not appreciate him as much. You see, Maverick liked to run.

Nonstop.

All day long.

Seriously.

He never slowed down.

He also looked severely malnourished and scrawny, despite finishing off large bags of dog food in small amounts of time. He ran off everything he ate, and then some. (Despite my best efforts, I have never been able to accomplish this.)

Maverick had a method to his running. He ran the same route around the house.

Nonstop.

All day long.

This is why mom wasn't his number one fan. He ran paths and wore out the grass all over the yard...including the grass in the middle of the front yard right next to her garden.

Crop circles, my brother called them.

Not only did he run ceaselessly, Maverick also barked on occasion. Not at squirrels or rabbits or strange cars.

No, he barked at the sky.

As he ran pell mell around the yard, he would point his furry nose to the sky and bark at nothing at all.

Maverick has since gone on to join doggies of previous lives past (thanks to a run-in with a rabid 'coon), and the grass has grown back in our yard (much to my mom's relief). But he spent his short life doing what he was created to do.

He ran in circles. He barked at the sky. There was no purpose to this, except that he was a dog, and that's what God created him to do.

He ran and he barked for the glory of God. He did what he was created for, and he loved doing it.

All around us nature proclaims the glory of its Creator. Birds fly, cows graze, horses gallop, flowers bloom, clouds rain.

All things were created by Him and for Him. -Colossians 1:16

I, too, was created for the glory of God. But unlike the things of nature, I often forget my purpose.

I forget that I was made for Someone greater.