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Saltine crackers. That’s all I had in my cupboards that seemed anything close to acceptable to feed four abandoned and hungry puppies one summer day.
About half a mile into my daily walk, at the gravel crossroads between Robey’s hog farm and the house with the mean German Shepherd misnamed Lily, I stopped—or rather was stopped—by four little bundles of fur. They barked frantically, circling and circling. Being the daughter of dog-lovers, I was wired to squat low and offer kindness through petting, which was received with robust licks and yips that sounded like pleading.
I talked to them in a sweet, sing-song voice, asking where they’d come from. Looking around and knowing all five of my neighbors within a 2-mile radius, I realized that they had been “dumped,” as they say, on this very rural road in the boonies of Iowa.
Standing and continuing to walk in the direction I was headed, the puppies circled me excitedly as we all progressed slowly forward. It was clear they were resolute in sticking with me like barnacles on the side of a ship, so I turned 180 degrees and started walking back toward our country home. The puppy circle shifted directions with me, and “we” walked the half mile back to our driveway.
“Well,” I said to the four fluffy darlings who took me all of ten minutes to name, “let’s see if we can find you something to eat.” Scrounging through our cupboards, the only thing I found remotely close to crunchy dog kibbles was a box of crackers. The four of them gobbled up three sleeves of Saltines and still stared at me hungrily.
Anyone who knows anything about interacting with stray animals knows there are two golden rules:
1. Don’t feed them.
2. Don’t name them.
I broke both of these rules before calling my husband to tell him about our furry guests, asking if he might stop and pick up some dog food on the way home from work.
It was determined that Meany (who was feisty and provocative), Mini (the littlest), and Moe (because it flowed with the other two names) would need to find new homes. We simply couldn’t keep four dogs. However, their brother, Mac, named after Jon’s grandfather, Maxwell, had a gentle temperament and even gentler eyes. He was our pick of the litter to keep as our own puppy. We chose Mac.
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Luke 19:10 says, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”
We can’t know our way home without Jesus. He came for us in our lost state. He saved us.
Those puppies didn’t find me that summer day in 1993. I found them—abandoned and desperate at that dusty gravel crossroads, unable to rescue themselves. They could only circle and bark, making their need known. Then, when I found them, they followed me home.
We chose Mac.
God chose us.
Just like those puppies, we need a Rescuer. The song “King of Kings” by Hillsong Worship fittingly says this:
“In the darkness, we were waiting
Without hope, without light
‘Til from Heaven You came running
There was mercy in Your eyes.”
All glory and praise to the One who, out of His infinite kindness, came to earth for us and bids us to follow Him.