Try being named after a dog.
Hank, a rather sizable Labrador Retriever, is still a rambunctious pup. Since my last name is Hankins, I have been casually called “Hank” ever since I was a pup. Hearing his owners chastise Hank to get down, Hank stop chewing, and most of all, not to ...uh, do-what-dogs-do... becomes awkward.
Walking in a Winter Wonderland in the Blue Ridge mountains amidst falling snow, Hank is living large. This calamitous canine is convinced he is part Saint Bernard or Siberian Husky frolicking in the Alps. One problem ensues, Hank repeatedly bites the leash from his owner Jordan.
Homeward bound on snow-slick road, we halt. Jordan stands holding one end of the leash, Hank no longer on the other. He had bitten it off. His Master proceeds to grab the short length attached to Hank’s neck, a mere snout-length away. We proceed home, said chewer in tow on a very short leash.
We sometimes feel God is a party-pooper by establishing rules, regulations, and restrictions. Commandments cramp our style. I Kings 2:3 echoes a bevy of Scripture admonitions and advice, “... observe what the LORD your God requires: Walk in obedience to Him, and keep His decrees and commands, His laws and regulations, as written in the Law of Moses. Do this so that you may prosper in all you do and wherever you may go”. Jesus succinctly summed, “If you love Me, keep my commandments.” Any part of that we don’t understand?
It is true, God has prescribed limits to our liberty. We are free to roam within His boundaries. He does so, not for His benefit, but for ours. Abiding obediently, we are safe, secure, and free to experience life. When we resist and insist on severing the leash; God’s love refuses to relinquish. He will, when necessary, shorten our leash. Freedom severely limited, fun curtailed, we continue securely on the path home.
At least, if I learned a significant life lesson that day, it’s not so bad being named after a dog.