Pastor Tommy's Blog

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2025 | 2024 | 2023

  • Change Happens - May 21, 2026

    I was talking with a friend this last weekend and somehow the conversation turned to change and loss. It was probably inevitable. We’ve both suffered recent losses. He got to talking about a beach house his family had owned. He’d grown up going there with his extended family, and his kids had too. But then the family had to sell it.


    The parallels to my experience were almost spooky. I grew up spending the summers and most Thanksgivings, Christmases, and Easters at our family’s cabin on Lake Proctor, with my siblings and parents, aunt, uncle and cousins, and my grandmother. Many of my fondest memories are tied up with that place. When my siblings and cousins and I got married, we would bring our kids up there with us. They had a good time, but it wasn’t quite the same. For one thing, even after adding a second floor, accommodations were a little crowded. And then, the frequency of the visits started to fall off, as we all began to split our time between two families. As families expanded and schedules got more crowded, the visits got shorter, and less frequent. Eventually, we pretty much quit going, and ended up selling the cabin (thankfully, to one of my cousins).


    In that conversation with my friend, we concluded that change is not fun. We talked about how cool it would be to be able to go back to those beautiful, formative times in our lives.


    But we also concluded that while change may not always be fun, it is inevitable. And, in fact, it is necessary and good. Jesus said “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” (John 12:24)


    Growth requires change. In fact, I was reminded last weekend that if you aren’t growing, you’re dying. This is true physically, as my knees and back remind me more and more frequently. But it is especially true spiritually. There is no such thing as spiritually standing still. Doing so is like treading water instead of swimming towards the nearest shore. You might keep your head above water for a while, but eventually, you’re going to go down.


    We might be comfortable where we are. Or we might even want to go back to the “good old days.” But that is not the Way to Life. The Way to Life is growth; it is the Way of constantly seeking to go deeper in our relationship with the Divine. And when we do that, we discover that while we might mourn the loss of yesterday, God has provided us with the opportunity for an even better today.


    I still look back fondly on the days spent at the lakehouse. But the loss of that time and that place have created new opportunities for joy and connection. My sister Becca has a place near LaGrange where we still get together as a family regularly. We now take the opportunity to visit Kirsten’s family in Reno regularly (which coincidentally gives us the chance to visit Lake Tahoe regularly). My daughter Caitlin lives in Vancouver, BC, which give us the opportunity to spend time with her and her soon-to-be-growing family up there.


    The past is often great. But it’s the past. It’s done. The important question for us in the present is how we will take what we’ve learned from it—how we will grow from it—into a new and even better future.

  • "Let's Play" - May 14, 2026

    Many years and a few pastoral appointments ago, Kirsten and I got a new dog. Her name was Callie Ruth. Her prior owners couldn’t take care of her anymore and through a friend of a friend, Kirsten met her, fell in love, and brought her home. Not being without sin in this regard myself, I wasn’t able to cast any stones.


    Anyway, Callie Ruth was, on the whole, reasonably well-behaved. She was pretty even-tempered and got along well with people. But when we first brought her home, we noticed something: she didn’t know how to play. Our other two dogs at the time, Ginger Ruth and Heidi Ruth, were always doing something to or with one another. Ginger was a puppy, so she would constantly be taunting the older dog, trying—often successfully—to get her to play a game of chase. They seemed to always be playing.


    But Callie Ruth? Not so much. The other dogs would approach and she would growl or just walk off. They would play and she would just stand there looking confused. It was kind of sad. She could be having fun with the other dogs, but she just didn’t know how.


    Turns out, Callie Ruth’s prior owners weren’t able to get her out to socialize with other dogs. And without that contact with other dogs, she didn’t know how to be a dog.


    I hear all the time people saying some variation of the following: “I’m a Christian, but my church is nature.” Or, “I’m a Christian, but why would I want to hang out with all those hypocrites at church?” And this morning, reflecting on Callie Ruth, my answer is, “Callie, that’s why.”


    We are a lot like dogs. We learn by doing. We learn from those we hang out with. If we hang out with folks who don’t know how to play, we’re never going to learn to play.


    Some folks might take issue with me for comparing following Christ to playing. And while I think that’s unfortunate, I can see where those people are coming from. I readily admit that there are those who make following Christ out to be a lot of hard work. In fact, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been guilty of that before. But those tend to be the times when I’m making it all about myself instead of God. And I’ll freely admit that there are those in the church who don’t seem to be having a lot of fun. Most of us have seen these folks; the ones that look like they came straight out of “American Gothic.” But I think they’re missing the point too.


    Jesus said, “my yoke is easy, my burden light” (Matthew 11:30). He didn’t come to bring us hardship in this life so we can enjoy the next one. He came to connect us with the very source of love and joy and hope—in this life and into eternity. And in just about any congregation you go to, there will be some people who have found for themselves some of that joy and love and hope. So, the answer isn’t to avoid church. It’s to find THOSE people and to just bless the others and hope they eventually get it.


    As C.S. Lewis said, “the Church exists for nothing else but to draw [people] into Christ, to make them little Christs.” That’s what we’re about in the church. And, given the way we humans learn, it’s unlikely to happen at a distance. It’s unlikely to happen by osmosis. It’s only going to happen when we come together, when we hang out with one another, when we offer one another support and accountability. And, when we play.

  • Cleaning Up My Act - May 7, 2026

    “You have the cleanest mouth I’ve ever seen.” Those are words I never thought I would hear, at least directed at me. They were uttered the other day by a dental technician who was cleaning my teeth. My first thought was that he must be a trainee and this must be the first mouth he’d ever looked at. But he seemed to know what he was doing, so my next thought was that he clearly wasn’t familiar with the old me. If he were, he never would have said that, even if my teeth were absolutely pristine.


    In my younger days, much of what came out of my mouth was not pleasant. Not always profane, but almost always negative. To say I wasn’t an encourager would be a massive understatement. Whatever data that entered my brain was inevitably translated into pessimistic and negative thoughts. And those thoughts were quite often translated into words.


    Jesus talked about a similar phenomenon. One of the many complaints the Pharisees made against Jesus was that he and his disciples didn’t follow all the rules about eating, specifically the rules regarding ceremonial hand washing. Here’s Jesus’ response: “Jesus called the crowd near and said to them, ‘Listen and understand. It’s not what goes into the mouth that contaminates a person in God’s sight. It’s what comes out of the mouth that contaminates the person…. Don’t you know that everything that goes into the mouth enters the stomach and goes out into the sewer? But what goes out of the mouth comes from the heart. And that’s what contaminates a person in God’s sight. Out of the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adultery, sexual sins, thefts, false testimonies, and insults.’” (Matthew 15:10-11, 17-19)


    Our words (and our actions) represent the state of our heart. Fearful, hateful, and judgmental words like the ones I used to speak, (and sometimes still do) come from a fearful, hateful, and judgmental heart. And I’m not alone in having this kind of heart. Many of us do, to one extent or another.


    And I think one of the main reasons we do is because we live in a culture that, like us, is fallen; a culture that is driven by fear and judgment, in which lashing out at those who differ from us is considered natural. If we’re not careful, practically every moment of every day of our lives, practically from the moment we’re born, is spent absorbing this brokenness.


    And the point Jesus is making is that rules of etiquette or politeness—forms that deny the reality of our darkened hearts—are like putting lipstick on a pig. They don’t change anything.


    Which, to me implies a fundamental truth: on our own, we can’t change. When we try to change our hearts on our own, not only do we find ourselves fighting against our own fallen nature, but we’re fighting against the 24/7 influence of our culture. It’s a battle we can’t win.


    Which is where Jesus himself comes in. It was about 22 years ago that my world (and my mouth) began to change. I recognized Jesus as the Way out of the fear and the judgment, and the Way into peace, joy, hope, and love. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that things didn’t change for me nearly as quickly or completely as I had hoped. I’ve still got a long way to go. But I can honestly say that the stuff coming out of my mouth today is quite different than it used to be. And that’s in large part because the things going into my mind and heart have changed.


    Some people think the point of “salvation” through Jesus is nothing other than going to heaven when you die; it has no impact on or relationship to the life you live here and now. They are wrong. When you entrust yourself to Jesus, you receive a new kind of power—God’s Holy Spirit—that enables you to begin to change. I know some people for whom it was practically instantaneous. For me, it’s been long and slow and occasionally painful. But, looking back, I can clearly see that it IS real. Neither my mouth, nor the rest of me is the same as it was.


    Now, in the sense that matters, my mouth may still not be cleanest there ever was, but that’s ok. It, and the rest of me, are doing a lot better than we were.

  • Training

    The other day I was listening to a podcast and the speaker said something I guess I already knew, but in a way that really brought the point home. He said that everything we do, think, say, or experience is a spiritual practice. Think about that.


    Now, here’s what I think he meant. First, we are fundamentally spiritual beings. We are eternal. This life is like a spiritual training ground, preparing us for the eternity that comes after. And what that means is that everything we do, say, think, or experience in this life is training for our eternity. Everything we do, say, think, or experience is spiritual training.


    And we, as creatures uniquely endowed with free will, get to choose what that training looks like. We can choose a training program that prepares us for an eternal life without God, or one that conditions us to crave God’s presence. We can choose a program that makes me the master of my universe, or a program that recognizes God as the master.

    I have a tendency to think of “spiritual practices” as a discrete set of things I do to get close to God. But I’m beginning to understand that spiritual practices encompass much, much more. In fact, every moment of every day of our lives is a “spiritual practice.” Every moment of every day is either conforming us more into the image of Christ, or doing the opposite. Everything, from the shows we watch, to the books we read, to the company we keep, to how we approach our jobs and families, to how we fill those unexpected, unstructured moments, is a spiritual practice; a practice through which we are training ourselves for how we’re going to spend eternity.


    So, how’s your training going?

  • Body, Mind, Spirit - April 23, 2026

    Last Saturday I watched my son Jack complete the Houston Iron Man Triathlon. He swam 2.4 miles, biked 112 miles, and ran a 26.2 mile marathon. Back to back. I am so proud of him.


    And as I watched him swim and bike and run, I was just in awe. I couldn’t imagine myself in his shoes, and didn’t want to. But I was also in awe of the rest of the competitors. Almost 3,000 people participated in this event. The professional athletes from around the world were incredible. But everyone else was too. There was one guy who brought his disabled friend with him over the entire course, first in a kayak, then in a bike trailer, then in a modified racing stroller. And then there was “Ed,” whom we saw several times over the course, who was in his late 70s.


    Now, for Jack, it’s not like doing an Iron Man was his lifelong dream or anything. Actually, about 7 months ago he just decided to do one. And then, for the next 7 months, he trained. He described the training as a second job. It seemed like every moment he wasn’t eating, working, or sleeping, he was training.


    And I’m sure that’s how it was for the rest of Saturday’s participants. I can’t get my head around the dedication and the time they must have put in to enable them to finish that race. But they did it. And now each of them has not only a tremendous sense of accomplishment, but also a very expensive belt buckle.


    As I sit here thinking about that race, I’m a little convicted. Each of the race participants probably averaged 15 to 20 hours of training a week, on the low end. Day in day out. Week in week out. Month after month. All that for a belt buckle.


    Yet I don’t put in anything close to that kind of time to work on something waaaaaay more important: my spiritual life in God. If I put in an hour a day in prayer and meditation, I feel like a spiritual rock star. If I direct my thoughts and attention to God even 10% of my day, I feel like that’s a good day’s work. If I do a few service projects a month, I feel like God’s gift to the world. Yet all of that combined doesn’t even approach what those triathletes were willing to do for a belt buckle.


    Of course, it isn’t either/or. We shouldn’t have to choose whether to take care of the body or take care of the spirit. We’ve all got to find a way to balance looking after our bodies, our minds, and our spirits. The key is to dedicate meaningful and productive time to all 3. Which, with the ever-accelerating pace of our world can be difficult. But Jack and all those other triathletes remind us, or at least me, that it is possible. We make time for what’s important. So, what’s important to you?


    Today, I pray God will help direct my eyes and yours, my hands and yours, my mind and yours, more and more to Him, the one from whom our true life comes.

  • Keeping up with the Joneses - April 16, 2026

    A few weeks ago, I was listening in on Kirsten’s weekly video call with our daughter Caitlin. Actually, I really wasn’t paying much attention until I heard Caitlin say, “… but y’all are our Joneses.”


    Now, I’m sure you know about keeping up with the Joneses. It’s the idea instilled in us by the culture that to be productive members of society, we’ve got to acquire and consume all the stuff the folks around us are acquiring and consuming, or we’ll get left behind.


    So, I guess Kirsten had told Caitlin that she and her husband Will are our “Joneses.” Which I get. They do have really cool stuff.


    But then Caitlin said we were their Joneses. Which I don’t get. Our stuff is way less cool.


    But isn’t that the way it usually works? We run faster and faster on the treadmill of success, trying to keep up with Mr. & Mrs. Jones, while they’re doing the same trying to keep up with us. It’s a little insane if you think too hard about it. Unless, of course, you’re the one selling the stuff we’re buying in our attempt to keep up.


    This last Sunday I preached on self-condemnation. One of my points was that in our culture (and probably most human cultures), our identity, value, and meaning are determined by comparison. To be worthwhile, valuable, and lovable, you’ve got to be better than someone else. And, for reasons lost in the mists of time, those people are always named Jones.


    But here’s the reality. The Joneses do not determine who we are. The Joneses are just random people. They may be Facebook influencers, or folks who live down the street, or our closest relatives. But they’re just people; fellow human beings; fallible and fallen like the rest of us. Living under the influence of a fallible and fallen culture, like the rest of us.


    On the other hand, God is God. God is the creator of the universe. God is the one who has given us life.


    And this almighty God loves us … all of us. Even you. We celebrated that love just a little over a week agon on Easter. God loves us so much that he sent Jesus to enable us to live a new, bountiful, and eternal kind of life (John 3:16). THAT is where we find our real value. THAT is where we find our real meaning.


    So, how about this? How about we let the Joneses do their thing, and think a little more about keeping up with God?

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  • The Good Ol' Days - April 9, 2026

    I’ve got a friend named Phil. He’s from Lubbock, the home of Taco Villa. Phil really, really likes Taco Villa. Which makes sense. He grew up eating it. I remember one time, when our youth group was passing through Lubbock on a mission trip, Phil was so proud of Taco Villa that we stopped there for lunch, giving us all the opportunity to savor the flavor.


    Phil, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. But Taco Villa just isn’t that great. Don’t get me wrong. It’s OK, it’s just not great. I really like Phil and since he was such a fan of Taco Villa, I wanted to like it too. And I tried. I really tried. But I just can’t. And neither can my daughter. She went to Texas Tech. And whenever we would visit, I’d ask whether we could go to Taco Villa. She’d just roll her eyes. It became one of our inside jokes.


    Now, I wish I could say this is just a Phil thing, but it isn’t. For me, it’s Mr. Gattis. I love Mr. Gattis pizza. It’s irrational, I know, but when I was growing up, we had one of the first Mr. Gattis in Austin quite close to our house. We wouldn’t eat out very often, but when we did, it was usually at that Mr. Gattis. My mother would order one large pizza for our entire family of 7, which is where I learned a little about competitive eating. But mostly I remember how great that pizza tasted. It was just the perfect mixture of sauce and cheese and crust and pepperoni. It was amazing!


    But nowadays, whenever I ask my friends who didn’t grow up eating Mr. Gattis if they’d like to go there, they just roll their eyes. It’s kind of become a joke.


    It’s funny how some of those things from our past can make such a big impression on us. A lot of us look back on the old days, on the good times with so much fondness that it can impact our reality right now.


    And there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m a pastor in the United Methodist church, a denomination with a relatively long history. Generations upon generations have grown up in the Methodist faith. And for a lot of us in the church, there is a tendency to look back on our formative times within the church with fondness and nostalgia—to think that those were the “good old days” and that if we could just keep the church that way, everything will be ok.


    But we’ve got to be careful, because the only constant in this world is change. And I think that is—or should be—especially true of us Christians. St. Paul said in 2 Corinthians 5:17, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” What I think St. Paul is talking about isn’t just a single, instantaneous change. He’s also talking about growth. God’s intention for us is that we grow throughout the entire course of our lives; spiritually, emotionally, intellectually. And growth means change. It means change in the way we live our individual lives and it means change in the way we live out our lives together in community. It means change in our churches.


    It’s ok to look back with fondness on the world of our youth, but we can’t assume everyone else feels the same way about that world. If we are going to reach new people with the Good News that God loves them, we may have to grow into a new way of expressing it. After all, not everyone likes Taco Villa, or Mr. Gattis for that matter.

  • Under Construction - January 29, 2026

    One of the “benefits” of being a pastor in the United Methodist church is the “opportunities” I am given to travel up and down I-35. Salado is near the south end of the Horizon Texas Conference, which is headquartered in Fort Worth. Although things have improved over the years, especially with the rise of Zoom, many mandatory meetings and trainings are still held in Ft. Worth. So, I have no shortage of “opportunities” to travel I-35.


    Now, I sincerely hope this does not come as news to you, but there is construction on I-35. Recently things were pretty bad in Waco, but I think that’s mostly cleared out. There’s always some between Hillsboro and Ft. Worth. So, depending on the time of day and holidays, the traffic can get pretty bad. And regardless, with all those barriers and shifting lanes and all the 18-wheelers, it can get pretty interesting.


    And I love the TxDOT signs. They say we may not like it now, but we’ll love it when it’s finished. I have to laugh, because the fact is, it will never be finished. I love the meme: “Scientists are saying the sun will burn out in 5 billion years which means TxDOT will have to finish working on I-35 in the dark.” I grew up in Austin. I-35 has been under construction since I was a little kid. You used to have to stop in Austin for the train. Several years ago, the bottleneck was Hillsboro. Then it was Salado, then

    Belton/Temple. Pretty soon it’s going to be Belton/Temple again. And I thank God I don’t have to drive to Austin much anymore given what’s fixing to happen there. And then, whenever and wherever they finish the construction, increased traffic will require them to start over again.


    But the thing is, when TxDOT does get done with a section, it really IS awesome. I remember when Salado was the bottleneck. It was a nightmare to drive through here, but now it’s great. Same with Hillsboro, and Waco. And gradually, year by year, I-35 will be able to handle more and more traffic. Which is a good thing. None of us would want to drive on I-35 the way it was when I was a kid.


    And I think this is a lot like our lives. We’re never done. I remember when I was a kid. I thought when I started going to school, I’d be one of the “big kids.” I’d be fulfilled. So, I started school and it was nice. But then, I remember just wanting to get into Middle School, and then High School. I thought once I started driving, then I’d be good. And it was good, but it wasn’t the end. Then it was getting out of college, then it was getting married, then it was getting out of law school, then it was getting a “real” job, and on and on. It was all good, it was all progress, but it wasn’t the end.


    It was the same when I came to Christ. I knew that I was missing something in my life. I knew that I wasn’t the person that I had been created to be. And I had been told that Jesus would fix that. So, I turned my life over to Jesus. And nothing happened. At least not right away. I was a little (a lot) disappointed, but I stuck with it and before too long, things started to happen. And now, when I look back, I see how my life has changed for the good in so many ways. But, at least for me, it wasn’t a one-and-done thing. It has been a process. God has worked with me to clean up one bottleneck only to uncover another one, which God then works on with me, and so on.


    You Methodist nerds out there know that what I’m talking about is sanctification, the process by which God works in and through us to conform us more and more into the image of Christ. And it is an absolutely necessary part of a healthy faith life. It requires commitment on our part. It may not always be pretty and it may not always be fun, but where would we be without it. Faith is a relationship. It is living in God’s divine love. And God wants to draw us deeper and deeper into that love. God doesn’t want to leave the relationship where it was when we were kids, where it was when we first found Jesus, or where it was yesterday. God wants to work with us to make it grow.


    Which I think is a good thing. After all, how would I get to all my meetings if I-35 was the same as it was when I was a kid?

  • Running Against the Wind - January 22, 2026

    The last two Saturdays I’ve done long runs (at least for me). And both Saturdays, the wind has been horrendous. Now, I’ve got a 6 mile circuit that typically do, which is mostly north/south. Both Saturdays, the wind has been howling out of the north, which is great as long as I’m going south. Then it feels like I’m being pushed on to glory. On the other hand, when I’m going north, it’s a nightmare. Not only is the wind so strong and so cold that it makes my eyes water (the tears have nothing to do with the sad audiobooks I’ve been listening to … I swear!), but it seems like my speed is cut in half. It’s like trying to run in quicksand.


    Have you ever had that kind of experience in your spiritual life? I have. Those times when things are sooooo good; when it seems like every time you turn around, there God is smacking you over the head with signs of His goodness and love; when everything you touch seems to flourish and nothing can go wrong; when almost everything you experience is some sort of affirmation from God.


    And then there’s the northbound trip. Times when you feel like you’re in the desert, it’s so dry and dessicated. God seems absent. Nothing seems to be going right, or maybe it’s just that nothing seems to be going at all. You wonder whether any of it matters, whether anything you do or say makes any difference; whether God sees you or even cares. It’s really strange, but in these times, I tend to forget the southbound experiences. It’s as if they’ve been erased from my memory. All you can see is the bad stuff. You would think you’d be able to at least remember the God’s gracious presence in the past, you can’t.


    The 16th Century mystic, St. John of the Cross, had a name for this northbound journey. He called it the dark night of the soul. His insight was that at some point in every serious spiritual journey, we’re going to find ourselves in that northbound part of the loop. It isn’t a punishment and God hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s just a part of the process of spiritual growth, where we learn not to rely so much on how God makes us feel and instead—through persevering—learn to love God for God’s sake. And, like any night, this dark night of the soul doesn’t last forever. The light eventually shines again, the loop eventually turns back to the south, with the only difference being that the trip just gets better.

  • Forts - January 15, 2026

    When I was a kid, my family would get together with my cousins for several weeks during the Summer. And each year, my cousin, David, and I would build a fort in the scraggly wooded area behind our lakehouse, while our siblings were building one for themselves. I can’t remember why we did it. I definitely don’t remember spending a lot of time in the forts. But I do remember that not allowing our fort to be identified and invaded, and finding and invading the other fort, were of supreme importance.


    For some reason, this memory came to mind because I’m preaching this Sunday on the topic of welcome. The scripture is Luke 7:36-50. In it, a Pharisee named Simon has a dinner party, to which he invites a lot of other Pharisees, and Jesus. The text doesn’t tell us why he invited Jesus. My guess is he wasn’t necessarily a follower of Jesus, but did think his presence at the party would add some interest and maybe reflected glory. Anyway, in the middle of dinner, a sinful woman shows up and begins making a spectacle of herself over Jesus, washing his feet with her tears and drying them with her hair. Simon (and probably his Pharisee friends) were not amused. They were Pharisees for goodness’ sake, and she wasn’t. They were good and she was bad. As far as they were concerned, she absolutely did NOT belong there.


    Jesus, on the other hand, welcomed her, which led Simon to conclude Jesus wasn’t all he was cracked up to be. Of course, Simon’s new-found disdain of Jesus is ironic, since it’s Jesus’ acceptance of the sinful woman (and the judgmentally sinful Simon as well) that actually proves Jesus IS all he’s cracked up to be. Simon—who was obviously suffering from the king of all sins, pride—rejected Jesus, the only sinless person ever to live, because Jesus chose to welcome another sinner.


    It’s as if Simon considered his house, his dinner party, his web of relationships, as his fort. Everyone who didn’t meet his standards of holiness (and probably racial/political purity and social standing as well) was to be kept out. And since Jesus didn’t share Simon’s standards, he was obviously one of “them.” Kind of like when my cousin and I, based on some utterly arbitrary criteria, excluded our siblings from our fort.


    It seems to me there’s a lot of fort building going on in the world today. Of course, there always has been. But it seems as if it’s gotten a lot more intense here recently. The list of “thems” seems to be getting longer and longer, while “us” is getting more and more narrowly defined … more and more of us find ourselves on the outside of at least someone’s list.


    And in the process, we’re missing one of the key points of the story of Simon and the dinner party. Simon was just as much a sinner as that woman. Probably more so, given his judgmentalism and pride. Yet Jesus—God incarnate—was willing to welcome them both. He was willing to break bread with not only the woman, but also with Simon—despite the fact that he must have known how Simon felt about him.


    If Jesus refused to reject either the unnamed woman or Simon, who are we to reject someone else just because they think, look, believe, or behave differently than we do?

  • Ginger Ruth the Wonder Dog - January 8, 2026

    Ginger Ruth is a good dog. She is very smart and very sweet. We got her from the Jarrell dog rescue, so we never found out exactly what breeds she is, but we figure there’s some bird dog in there, since she loves to retrieve. Which when we got her was a good thing, since we had just lost our old lab, Piper (who was a great retriever).


    So, I decided to train Ginger to retrieve. And she seemed pretty good at it. Like I said, she’s very smart and she’s got a reasonable amount of natural drive, so the training was going well. Until it wasn’t.


    We were working on what I thought was a pretty simple drill. It wasn’t any more complicated than the ones we had done the several days before. But Ginger couldn’t or wouldn’t do it. Now dogs her age—she was a “teenager”—sometimes don’t do stuff just so they can get under your skin. But that’s not what was going on. It was apparent that she just didn’t get it. She wasn’t doing what I wanted and I was getting frustrated. I kept trying to get her to do the drill. I argued with her, reasoned with her, explained it to her, but she still didn’t get it. So finally, I started to get angry. How could she be so stupid? How could she be so dense?

    Then I stopped and thought. Was it her or was it me? Any of you who have trained animals know that it’s a progression. You build on the prior steps and you move your way up to more complicated things gradually. It’s really no different than how we learn. You don’t start kids out with algebra. You work your way up to it. So, was it that she was dumb, or was it that I hadn’t given her everything she needed to succeed?


    So, I decided to back up. We went back over some of the basics that I might have gone through a little too quickly in our (my) effort to make her “Ginger the Wonder Dog.”


    All that was several years ago and I would love to say Ginger Ruth became a world-class retriever. But alas, no. She’s actually very good at getting the birds, it’s just that when she gets them, the border collie in her takes over so that when she returns with the bird, it is “tenderized” beyond recognition.


    Nevertheless, Ginger might have something to say to all of us (or at least to me). Like I said, she’s pretty smart. St. Paul tells us in Romans 12:2, “do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” The whole aim of our existence is to become transformed more and more into the image of Christ—to live in God’s perfect love. This isn’t a physical transformation; it’s in the mind and the spirit. And God has given us a means of accomplishing that transformation through God’s Word, the Bible.


    But for that transformation to happen, we’ve got to study the Word. We’ve got to dig into it. We’ve got to seek to understand it. We’re not going to jump immediately from being “born again” to spiritual maturity any more than a child is going to learn algebra before mastering addition, or any more than Ginger Ruth is going to learn how to do a water retrieve before learning how to swim. It’s just not gonna happen.

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