I love those times with my dog because, really, they are times with my God. Times away from a household filled with teenagers. Times away from the endless piles of laundry and the dishes and the dinner that needs to be planned. Times away from the computer, which steals me too often away from everything else.
When I walk, it’s just God and me, talking things out. (Well, and the dog, doing whatever it is dogs do.)
On this day, I began my prayers as I usually do, by acknowledging who God is: my Creator, my Savior, my Love, my Sustainer.
I got caught by that one: Sustainer. I mulled that word around in my head for a while, thinking about how much I need God . . .
. . . for my daily bread.
. . . for every movement of muscle and bone.
. . . for every breath I take.
I need Him. So much.
My prayer then moved into a time of confession, and I found myself confessing for the umpteenth time how I have neglected God, my Sustainer. That even though I need Him for every breath I take, I have not desired Him the way I should.
My need vs. my desire.
I wondered, as I talked this through with God, how my life would change if my desire for Him matched my need for Him. What would it look like if I . . .
. . . woke up every morning anticipating His life-giving words rather than that first cup of coffee?
. . . wanted time alone with Him as much as I want that second chocolate chip cookie?
. . . really sought His opinion on decisions more than my husband’s or my friends’?
I want to be like the Psalmist who said, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you.” I want to get past all the stuff of this earth, the day-to-day, and desire God fully. To long for Him. To look for Him. To lean on Him.
I’m an imperfect, neglectful follower of Jesus who has really good intentions. But my intentions need a little ramping up these days.
In that short walk with my dog, God showed me that He wants me to want Him.
And so I wonder . . . what would my life look like if I desired God as much as I need Him?
What would yours?
By Shelly, Life on the Wild Side.