Running Wild

For Wilshire Baptist Church

The sign stapled to the telephone pole had a picture of a little white dog and a phone number, and then these words: “Lost: Do Not Chase.”

It seemed like a contradiction at first. If I see the little dog, shouldn’t I snatch it up and call the number? Wouldn’t that be the wise thing to do? Wouldn’t calling the owner and saying, “I have your dog in my arms” be better than saying, “I saw your dog a while ago at the corner of 9th and Avenue E”?

The answer to those questions is “no” because the owner obviously knows more about that dog than I do. It may be that the dog will run from strangers, or it will only be coaxed to safety by a certain treat, or it will come home when it’s tired of running. The owner may know that the more you chase it, the more it will run away. If you chase it too much it may get so frightened and frazzled that it will run blindly into the street, and then . . .

We had some experience with this when we first moved into our house. A little dog got loose, and eager to bond with our new neighbors, we joined the chase. But every time we got close to the dog it bolted — down the street, across busy Avenue D, past the Baptist church and on to the Presbyterian church. And then it ran between some cars in a parking lot and seemed to just disappear completely. We looked around for a while and then gave up. The dog did go home to its owners but only after the chase ended.

There are people in our lives like that. They are lost in whatever way they are lost — physically, spiritually, emotionally, and often a combination of those — and we want to bring them home where we believe they will be safe but every time we reach for them they jump away just out of our grasp. The more we chase them the more elusive they become. They don’t answer their phone or email, they quit coming to church or the club, they start missing work, they hide behind their locked door.

Chasing them and risking them “running into traffic” seems like a bad option, but so does going about our business and hoping they’ll come back on their own. My high school girlfriend broke up with me in a note that included that ugly gem of 1970s pop philosophy: “If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they’re yours; if they don’t they never were.” Oh boohoo, that’s not what we want to hear and that’s not what we want to do.

I wonder sometimes if God looks at us this way. God knows we are lost but instead of chasing us God lets us run wild until we get tired and circle back toward home — like the father in the parable of the prodigal son? Or sometimes what seems like running away is God’s plan for us running toward something new and good?

There’s no question that God knows each of us better than anyone and even better than we know ourselves, so it makes sense that God knows what will bring us back or push us forward to where we belong. And if the lost one is not us but someone we care for, that requires some prayerful discernment as to what our role should be.

I realize this is a serious topic for many people and I don’t take lightly that sometimes serious solutions are needed: intervention, counseling, medical attention to name a few. But sometimes our role is to watch patiently from a safe distance and be ready to receive and welcome in whatever condition they are in.

If I see that little dog I’m going to do what the sign says; I’ll call that number and I won’t chase. But maybe I’ll keep watching from a distance and update the location if need be until the owner arrives and kneels down and that puppy jumps into her arms.