We took a few hours at the end of a busy Saturday to take our younger children for a little boat cruise on the Kalamazoo River at the quaint town of Saugatuck, MI. As the little paddle steamer edged from the pier, a tan spaniel deftly loped on board. We later learned he belonged to the captain/narrator and his name was Admiral Crackerjacks (the dog, that is, not the captain).
Our children were delighted with the journey, noting the scenery and wildlife as it passed. But their childish chatter seemed to disturb our captain and he turned several times to glare in our direction. Were we interrupting his train of thought? No, even when he was not narrating he looked our way, then turned back to his duty with an eloquent shake of the head. Were we overly loud? Hardly. Having seen his first scowl, we kept our voices at the quiet end of the scale.
It was merely that children bothered him. I don’t think it was our children in particular. Some people seem to have a general bias in the direction of little people. After all, children are still learning how to be neat, how to be discreet with their voices, how to fit in, in our adult world. And some children just don’t learn fast enough for some adults.
Oh, the dog? While the captain glowered regularly in our direction, Admiral was lying upside down on his lap, receiving his affections. I am reminded of the words of Frederick the Great: “The more I get to know people, the more I love my dog.” Dogs overlook our failures, demand nothing but a basic maintenance agreement, and give affection with unswerving faithfulness. They have given to our language the word “dogged” to describe this constancy, even in trial, and have earned the title of “man’s best friend.”
God does not share this sentiment. Of course He feels a loyalty to His creatures. He included in His laws to men restrictions against animal cruelty. And hear His plaint to Jonah over repentant Nineveh: “Should not I spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than sixscore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand; and also much cattle?” (4:11). Jonah was not concerned about the people; God was even concerned about the cattle.
Hear, too, the Saviour: “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows” (Mt. 10:29-31). It is at the same time humbling and heartening to be compared to “many sparrows.”
Yet for all His sustaining care over His creation, God’s great interest in the universe is with the sons of men. We are exceedingly small in the grand scheme of things, yet for our size we have proved exceedingly troublesome. I dare say God has had more difficulty with us than with all the rest of the universe! But He does not, will not, give up on us.
Look at these twelve sons of Jacob. Hear what their own father says of them. Only grace could turn his words into a “blessing.” But seemingly that is what grace has in mind. For long after men have “had done” with those ill-fated patriarchs, when monsters like Pharaoh, Haman, and Herod and Hitler and the Great Antichrist, too, have tried to eradicate Jacob’s boys and their seed; after a multitude of theologians have tried at least to eradicate their hope of restoration by spiritualizing them out of Ezekiel 48 and Romans 11 and Revelation 7; after all this, God will have the final say.
With what soul-stirring, mind-boggling, heart-stopping gasps of celestial air we read the description of the New Jerusalem! Look! There, on the twelve gates of pearl! Those troublesome twelve, their troubles long past (and ours as well), having their names engraved on the city gates! Only God would think of such a thing–putting the prodigals’ names on the portals through which they came home to the Father! How could they–and we–not feel at home there!
P.S. “Without are dogs” (Rev. 22:15).