Rudely awakened from a deep sleep by our border collie, Jasper. Startled by his black and white face, illuminated by the flash of light in the bedroom - suddenly looming over my own in the darkness. He sat perched on the narrow ledge of bed, between me and the edge, almost on my face! Panting, nearly hyperventilating. Eyes bulging in fear of the lightning and thunder raging outside.
It is the second time in three days that this has happened. The older he gets, the more terrified he becomes of the storm outside.
Whispering words of reassurance, hugging him tightly to my body, in the hope of calming Him down. But the more I try to console him - apparently completely unaware of my attempts - he seems to be growing ever more frantic. Restlessly moving about the bed and over me. All hope of sleep abandoned.
Until I manage to hold him down on his side, in my arms. Soothing. Stroking. He hesitantly gives in. Sighs and lays down his head. Calmed somewhat.
I find myself thinking that sometimes I must make God feel this way.
He knows what is good for me. He planned my life long in advance. He knows what is coming. And what is not.
(Psalm 138:16)
(Psalm 138:16)
But still - I struggle ahead with my own plans, frantically searching. Trying to make things fit. To calm my mind, my soul. And the more He tries to draw me close, to bring me near, to give me rest... The more I struggle and strain! Fighting for control.
And I find the Spirit urging me to read the story about the lost sheep again. (Luke 15:3-7)
I have read it countless times. I know it by heart. But still the gentle nudge...