I’ll never forget the first time I spotted my dog, Winston, sitting on top of the picnic table on our back deck. He looked exceedingly cute and strangely regal, like Simba from “The Lion King.” I couldn’t imagine what prompted Winston to climb up on top of the table, but it quickly became his favorite spot from which to survey and rule his tiny kingdom.
The picnic table was old and eventually had to be thrown away, so for a number of years now, King Winston has had no throne. Just recently, however, my husband was looking out the back door and said, quite unexpectedly, “Winston needs a perch again.”
So, my tool man went to work building one. (I declare, that man will do anything to justify a trip to Lowe’s and to find a reason to rev up his power tools.)
Joe created a nice little observation/lounging platform for Winston, as well as a ramp leading up to it. But I immediately saw a problem, as the platform was a wee bit small and the ramp a wee bit steep. I had a feeling our noble king would be too chicken to get up there.
I was right. Winston wanted no part of the ramp or the platform. So much for the Simba analogy – Winston looked more like the Cowardly Lion, and he seriously needed a trip to Oz to find his courage.
We tried coaxing Winston up the ramp with pieces of cooked chicken, his favorite delicacy. We tried placing him up there, believing that if he took in the wonderful view, he’d share our vision and enthusiasm.
He wasn’t interested. No, sireee.
“But Winston,” I said to him. “Remember when you used to sit on the picnic table for hours, ruling over your acre with majesty and dignity? Remember when you truly were king of the forest?”
I guess he didn’t, as my pup just blankly stared at me, backing slowly away from the new platform with the same wariness he shows when he suspects we’re about to give him a bath.
We have continued to try to coax Winston up to his new perch. He has continued to resist and refuse.
It all reminds me of something. (What did you expect? Regular readers of my column know by now that everything reminds me of something!)
As I watch Winston balk at climbing up on his platform, I’m reminded how I, too, sometimes resist when God tries to coax me up to a higher place so that I might view my life and this world from His vantage point.
I don’t always want to climb the prayer ramp up to God’s platform because I’m rather enjoying my pity party down below, thank you very much. Doggone it, I don’t want to have a good attitude or an eternal perspective.
(It’s sometimes scary to let go of what’s familiar, even if what’s familiar is pretty miserable.)
It’s tough to feel sorry for myself when I see my life from God’s perspective. More often than not, looking from His vantage point overwhelms me with gratitude for the many blessings He’s given, no matter how challenging life’s circumstances may currently be. And I’m always reminded that there’s a bigger plan and a glorious eternity out there beyond today’s hassles and pain.
If Winston would just walk up that ramp, he’d discover it’s safe, and even exhilarating, up there. And he’d probably almost never want to come down.
Me, too, Lord … me, too.