Through the daily struggle of training a new puppy, God revealed something unexpected: my resistance to obedience looks a lot like Scout when he tries to pull away from his leash. I’m learning what it means to walk worthy of our calling—not perfectly, but together with God.
I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love…
—Ephesians 4:1-2
So, some exciting news…we got a puppy! I’m still not entirely sure this is good news. The last time I had a puppy I was 20. Things were a little different then. There were few responsibilities. Sleep was overrated. And I had plenty of time.
Now, I’d pay real money for a good night’s sleep. Time is at a premium, and I have more responsibilities than I care to admit. So what made me think this was a good idea? Not to mention that I’m significantly older now.
So with a momentary lapse in my faculties and the pure cuteness of this adorable little dog—here we are. Scout is officially a family member. A few days in and I think we’re finally getting used to each other.
Now, we are training. Leash training. Command training. Potty training. Crate training. Lots of training.
The Struggle
Today, I took him for a walk. It’s been a constant struggle to get him to stay with me instead of pulling away. Walking beside me is an important training exercise to accomplish. He pulls and tugs to try to go his own way, but I apply gentle pressure to keep him in line with my steps. He whines, tries to run ahead of me, then stops and digs his heels in the ground. He’s a strong puppy. But with consistent training, the experts tell me he will eventually succumb to my way.
God uses everyday moments to teach me significant lessons.
I’ve been meditating on Ephesians and what it means to walk with God. As I was training Scout to walk beside me, I heard God say, “Look at how he pulls away and tries to go his own path. You do that, too. Listen to me and submit to my leadership just as you want the dog to submit to yours.”
It’s true. Like Paul said in Romans 7:19: “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.”
There is deep within me a desire more money and more things. I feel the need to work hard so I can make those things a reality. But God’s word says I am to seek first his kingdom and trust him to provide what I need. At other times I feel pulled to seek recognition instead of God’s presence or experiences instead of God’s power. And each time God’s hand of correction is firm.
Training Scout has shown me more about myself than I wanted to see.
Practice…
It takes patience and repetition to learn good habits. We don’t get it right the first time. Scout needs the regular exercise of walking beside me. Of going his own way and being pulled back to my side. He needs to practice walking to match my gait, my speed, and my direction. As he learns my ways, the walks become easier.
Submitting to God means giving up my own way. It means making the choice to bend to his will. God’s grasp is firm, but gentle.
No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way. —Hebrews 12:11 NLT
Obedience takes practice. It is active forward motion. Practicing habits that lead to transformation. Over time, I begin to feel the stress lighten. The discomfort diminishes. Before long I am walking beside him keeping in step.
Patience…
One of the lessons I’m teaching Scout is to wait patiently while I open his kennel. But, sometimes he whines and cries to try to get his way. When he does this, I turn my back. His desire is for me to hear him, to notice him. But I don’t give in to his whims of wanting to get out of the crate. I wait patiently for him to stop. As soon as he quiets down, I open the door.
Just like Scout, I find myself crying and whining about the things God does or hasn’t done. But those cries are demands for attention—it’s me allowing my emotions to run rampant without restraint. These cries reveal my true heart. I’m no longer seeking God to build a relationship. Instead, the whining shows me a rebellious heart that wants only what God can give.
Trust…
Scout pulls away because he doesn’t trust me yet. He doesn’t know that just beyond the yard lurks all kinds of danger. If I allow him to go his own way and do whatever he wants without restraint, he could end up hurt or even dead. His safety is a priority, so he has to learn obedience by listening and following my lead. When Scout learns to listen and obey, eventually he will be able to go anywhere with me.
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. —John 10:27 ESV
Just like I have a purpose in mind as I train Scout, God has a purpose in mind for my life. Training is uncomfortable. Submission is not fun. It can be downright frustrating and even painful sometimes. But the reward is worth the effort. Trusting God when I can’t see a way forward takes practice and determination. It takes listening and obeying even if it doesn’t make sense to me.
Yesterday, Scout walked beside me for almost a full minute before he pulled away. It was just a moment—but we both felt it. That ease. That rhythm of moving together without fighting. I know God is pleased, when I finally stop digging my heels in and just walk. I think that’s what Paul meant by walking worthy of the calling. Not perfectly. Not without stumbling. Just—together.
This week, notice moments when you’re pulling away from God. Write down one specific area where you’re resisting God’s direction. Then ask: what would it look like to walk in step with him today?
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