It should be no surprise I love animals. A momma of three dogs, I’d house more if I could. Something about our dogs playing mimics bear cubs, river otters and frisky squirrels. So, to prevent myself from adopting all strays, I read and listen to stories and follow pictures on Instagram of the best wild animals and man’s furry friends.
The latest is an audio book about Bijou, the loveable mutt, and a lion at a local zoo. Both have a wildness to them that reminds me of the beauty and splendor of the original Creation. At their core, they are playful survivors, born to thrive in their natural environment, under vast blue skies with fields and valleys to enjoy.
My dogs, captive to a cushy home environment, complete with chewies, toys, tennis balls, individual beds (which they don’t use if given the choice of the Queen), all the food they could ask for, and hugs and kisses, still reveal that flicker of wildness occasionally. Typically, it’s aroused by the sight of the dog park, the breeze from the car window, a daring bunny in the backyard, or the smell of a rotisserie chicken. The lion, however, has lost that wildness. Even the sight of a nearby human, possible to gulp in one swift motion, hardly entices the king to twitch.
Sometimes, I look around and wonder where the wildness of God has gone. Rest assured, He still maintains the most wild of wilds there is—in imagination, creation, dreams, actions, and how He moves. Sure, it’s much easier to keep God where we can find Him…as our “friend”, behind the pulpit, in rituals and traditions that seem to bring us closer to knowing who He is. But I want something different. I want a God who shocks me, surprises me, and continues to ask me to keep up. I prefer the God who mimics His Creation, as opposed to mimicking my own.