A Bit Like Balaam’s Ass

I have often heard it said that if God could make himself heard through Balaam’s ass, he could make himself heard through anything.  But this is getting ridiculous. My last two weeks were spent at Northern Seminary, walking students through nuances of the Chronicles of Narnia as they illustrate human sin and struggle and god-like grace.  The picture of God’s patient, wise love through Aslan never fails to soften my heart. This session was no exception. 

I returned yesterday to my Maltipoo rescue puppy, now a little over a year old.  And tonight I gave him his tick bath.   When I wrote earlier this summer (Those Little Beasties) about these parasitic creatures I was still quite squeamish about them.  I’m not anymore.  I couldn’t wait to get him in the water so I could see if and where he was suffering.  When I took him out to inspect his little body, my squirmy dog lay perfectly still in my lap.  I think he knew relief was on the way.   

This dog has hated to be cornered. But he has turned a corner.  He wants the frustrating pain to go away and he can’t get to those ticks himself.  He is willing to be touched.  And I am eager to help him. 

I have been having a rather ticky summer myself.  I shall not enumerate all of my struggles: let’s just say that painful complexities abound.  And I feel a bit like my puppy, Samwise.  I can’t get to the places that feel like parasites to my soul—draining my energy and a not a little of my joy.  They hurt big, and I feel helpless a lot.

But tonight I think I heard the Lord say to my heart, “You love Sam. You want to bathe him.  You want to get at anything that’s hurting him and remove it.  He is too precious to be sucked dry by parasites.  So are you.  Let me get at the invisible parasites hurting your soul.  Stop squirming.  I will get at what is hurting and be your healer…with more love and tenderness than you can imagine.”   

Tonight I am so thankful for a small rescue puppy whose little body has become a channel of the Lord’s voice to me again.  The preachers can keep Balaam’s ass.  I’ve got Carla’s puppy.