Maximus never had a pen. In fact, the concept of a pen, a place where I was his world, never hit his radar screen for possibly even 18 months after I bought him. The centre of Maximus's world was almost invariably the white bobbing tail of a fleeing rabbit. His enormous natural talent at scenting, flushing and chasing anything from mice to rabbits to pheasants meant that this world was always available to him whenever we went on a walk. It meant that I, in effect, did not exist once that scent had revealed the temptation of the white tail. Maximus's "Pen" soon became the entire countryside, mile after mile of endless playpen; rabbits and pheasants galore! Oh, and a forlorn, leash-carrying owner running for mile after mile after him, trying to avoid the prospect of having to pay the dog warden (again) for the privilege of picking him up at the dog pound the following day (or the day after that). I was never angry of course. Not once. How could I be angry with this:
No, not angry. Livid, incensed, deranged with fury, but never merely angry.
But it was not just rage at disobedience. It was much more the frustration of seeing such a talented dog behave so badly. You see, he knew what I wanted him to do. We both knew that he knew! He would get on a scent, and his tail would suddenly accelerate its wag and his ears would prick up, squaring his already large Spaniel head. As soon as I saw these signals I would blast the "sit" command with the whistle and make towards him with all haste, hand raised with the visual "sit" instruction. All the while he was no more than 15 yards from me. But, alas, all too often came the momentary look, the brief pause as we made eye contact. He would look at me, almost longingly, but then the demons within had their wicked, spiteful way yet again; the demonic, hated (by me) white cotton tail would bounce into view, and that was that: an explosion in the bushes and another defeat for the intrepid gun dog trainer.
All rather stupid really. The solution is so simple. Keep the dog on a lead until you know he is steady. Let him off only occasionally when you are in full control, and where you can almost guarantee there are no fatal distractions. However, my point is not about how to train your dog. It's this (and I know there is a generous dose of anthropomorphising going on here, so humour me, okay?): he wanted to please me, he knew what to do, and he really wanted to do as he was told. His pitiful, apologetic crawls back to me after each indiscretion were most endearing, and for the main part secured my full and unconditional forgiveness. However, he just could not stop reverting to type when temptation reared its head. It was therefore my job, not his, to secure success.
I had to intervene to ensure he overcame his temptations and help him to make the right choice: Obey me. Obey that whistle and ignore what you want to do; that way you get to hunt every day with enormous freedom. Work for me, not for yourself. In fact, if you work for me you get far more game than you ever would if you were self-employed. I had to see the picture he couldn't, for his long-term benefit. Otherwise we simply could not work together.
Maximus could not possibly understand that, but I knew what was best for him. So he spent the next five months confined to a lead, in areas almost devoid of game, until I knew he could handle the pressure of his world and still hear my commands above the noise and smells of that deceptive world; the world that promised him chase, thrills and freedom, but only delivered empty promises, never ending further horizons, and utter spent exhaustion with little to show for it at the end.
So you can see where this is going. God will often constrain those who genuinely love Him in order to help them to overcome themselves. They really want to obey but keep failing. God often intervenes to ensure long-term success, even if in the short-term it seems very constraining and even painful. In retrospect, if we are honest, we always see it as a time of closeness, progress, and even joy knowing that His hand, however firm it is on us, is always full of love (my hand on Maximus was not, regrettably, always so loving). The Bible says that even Jesus had to learn obedience. In fact, Hebrews 5:8 says, "although He was a son he learned obedience through the things which He suffered". So even Jesus Christ had to endure suffering to learn obedience. That is theologically mind-blowing, but there it is!
However, there is the other side to all of this. There is a difference between getting it wrong, succumbing to temptation, and those that simply have no interest in obedience unless there is something in it for them. The difference between failing when wanting to please and not caring if you fail is enormous. In fact, it is devastating. The Bible says in Matthew 7 that on the final day there will be those who had a name as believers, who gave lip service to being "gundogs" but who actually never really belonged to the Master. They were never, in fact, real working dogs; never a part of the team. To them He says "Depart from me... I never knew you". Those that enjoy the world and all it can offer, and who refuse to listen to the master's voice are totally different from those who get it wrong but keep coming back because in their hearts they really do want to serve Him.
Maximus really wanted to be on "my team". After a good number of months under close restraint, I was able to give him more freedom and eventually, by the age of 2, I had a promising young working dog. By age 3 he had become the stuff of legend (though not all for good reasons: he still got it spectacularly wrong on occasion). Now, at almost 12, he has earned his retirement but his heart will always be to hunt. Like I said in another post, he will certainly finish well. It's who he is.
And part of that is because it is who we have both made him. Together. And often in times of difficulty.
Do you work for Him? Or do you work for Him because it suits you, because of what is in it for you, and only on your conditions? Do you refuse to do certain things because "God would never ask me to suffer hardship" or because "that's not the way He works", or because "a loving God never allows a Christian to suffer pain, discomfort, poverty, loneliness, isolation, illness, loss of job, loss of friends, loss of home etc" If you have used these excuses, look at Hebrews 5 and Matthew 7, and then ask yourself, "Does He really know me or am I in danger of being disowned on the final day?
That's a tough message. It needs to be aired out today, especially in the current climate of "me first" and the heresy of prosperity preaching. And if you are in "The Pen" with God at the minute, I have a word for you: Rejoice! It means He is taking the time to make you more like Himself and is preparing you for a truly astonishing adventure; to fulfill all of the potential that He has put within you. Embrace it. Work at it. Learn to love that constraint, that discipline, even that suffering.
It's worth it!
