For the Love of Dog – A Relationship of Trust Pt. 2 – Steve Orr

Time For the Boy to Become a Man;

It started with the attack of the devil — otherwise known as the angry she-bear.

I wanted to be mad as hell. But all she did was follow her wild instinct — to protect her own.

But why, God? Where were You? Why did you just look on and allow this to happen? I know I shouldn’t feel this way — but I’m mad at you. Mad as a bear.

We were at the veterinarian’s clinic.

Luke was on the table — sadder than ever. Not just a dog. A friend. A brother. A hero.

The vet said there was nothing she could do to save him.

He was suffering greatly.

Dad looked at me and said, “He’s your dog. It’s your decision.”

From my heart, I whispered, “Luke… there’s another wilderness waiting for you. But I can’t go with you this time. It’s a dark place. But there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Follow the light. That’s where you’ll find me.”

They injected him between his toes.

And soon — quietly, peacefully — Luke’s suffering was over.

Everyone cried. Even Dad.

Back to the question: Why?

It took me a long time to find a good answer.

It started with the thought that Luke’s death was better than him just growing old. He was wild and free — the way we were meant to be. But it’s much better than that. He died the most noble death of all. He saved our lives. A true hero.

There’s no greater love than self-sacrificial love.

I knew about Jesus. But because of Luke’s love for me, I’ve come to love Jesus more. It’s one thing to read about sacrificial love — quite another to experience it.

Not understanding is where faith begins.

It’s a time for reflection.

“What is my Wilderness? Who is my Master? Am I willing to trust Him — even when I don’t understand?”

Years later, I went back to that final hour at the vet’s office — not physically, but in memory. I sat beside Luke again, in my mind, scratching behind his ears the way I used to.

“There’s this relationship,” I said, voice soft, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It’s between a Creator and a creature. And the creature is smart — really smart. Maybe too smart for his own good. But the Creator loves the creature so much that He gives the creature freedom. Real freedom. The freedom to choose to trust or not to trust. The freedom to run into the Wilderness or to stay at home.”

Luke’s ears perked up at the word Wilderness.

“But the creature often doesn’t understand why the Creator asks him to do certain things. Why the Creator says no to some things and yes to others. Why does the Creator allow some hurts and prevent others? It often seems so arbitrary. In some situations, the creature thinks he knows better than the Creator — because he’s the one in it. But the creature doesn’t realize — it’s the Creator who is in him.”

Luke, you’re that creature. Even though you don’t look anything like him, you are made in the Creator’s image. You have a mind. You have a will. You have feelings and passions. You have been given a heart, and when that heart is healthy, you know what is right and what is not.

The Creator sees the whole picture. The creature only sees his little corner of the wilderness.

Love is bigger than logic. Trusting the Creator is the wisest thing the creature can do.

Luke didn’t understand all the words. But he understood the feeling behind them. He understood that I was telling him something important. Something true.

He closed his eyes and rested his head more heavily in my lap. Luke felt something in his chest settle. Not the settling of resignation — but the settling of rightness. Of coming home. Of finding, in the space between his own limited understanding and the Master’s infinite knowing, a love so vast and so delicious that it made the Wilderness of Heaven delightfully infinite — something beyond our current understanding, but something to explore for infinity and beyond.

We can step into eternity in the here and now.

Are you ready to take that step?

Here’s my reality. It’s not just mine, it’s a reality offered to all of us.

Part of me died that last day with Luke.

I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me. And the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me (Galatians 2:20).

Stay tuned for the epilogue on “Matters of the Heart.”

Steve Orr writes to us from Montana. After working in the mecca of technology, Steve traded the rat race of Silicon Valley for the adventures of High Tech in Big Sky Country. Steve has an MBA with experience in accounting, finance, technology, and management. He occasionally writes a little software code, but mostly he likes writing about Matters of the Heart.