When I returned from the army and settled in Columbus, I unexpectedly found a companion in Sasha, a dog I encountered during a whim visit to PetSmart. Amidst the chaotic barks and clanging cages, Sasha lay quietly, her eyes closed. I initially mistook her calm demeanor for deafness or depression, but upon approaching, she stretched and wagged her tail, revealing a relaxed, composed nature that reminded me of Jesus in the boat during a storm. Despite my attempt to rationalize against getting a dog after three years without one, the connection was undeniable. We brought Sasha home, and she quickly became a perfect fit, prompting me to consider her training.
My approach to Sasha’s training was rooted in love and affection, eschewing punishment for bad behavior in favor of positive correction. I believed that fostering love and confidence would lead to voluntary submission of her will, a stark contrast to my own childhood experiences of fear-based training. This endeavor became a profound personal project, an opportunity to address my own struggles with anger and control.
The training transcended mere canine instruction; it evolved into a spiritual journey. As I guided Sasha toward obedience, I began to assess my own obedience to God. Verses like John 14:23, which states that those who love God will obey His teachings, resonated deeply. Similarly, 1 John 4:18, emphasizing that love dispels fear and that perfect love has no room for it, became a cornerstone of my philosophy. Obedience, I realized, was not about avoiding punishment but a powerful demonstration of love.
The Book of Job (12:7-10) suggests asking the animals about the Creator, and I believe God uses the natural world to reveal His supernatural purposes. Through Sasha, an ordinary dog, I felt called to proclaim the Gospel. This led me to consider the potential pitfalls of “treat training,” where the reward might overshadow the relationship. As Psalm 37:4 advises delighting in the Lord for heart’s desires, there’s a caveat: God grants these desires when He’s assured we won’t be lost to them. He desires our love for who He is, not merely what He can do for us, just as I desired Sasha’s recognition of me as her reward.
God’s greatest gift is Himself, and for Sasha, it was a loving master and a willing spirit. While treats served a purpose, especially during new learning phases, my primary reinforcement was praise and affection. This mirrored God’s love for us, which surpasses any material blessing.
The command “Come” was the first I taught Sasha, mirroring Jesus’ invitation in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary, and I will give you rest.” My desire for Sasha to come to me stemmed from my ability to positively impact her life—liberating her from the PetSmart cage and managing her leash. This paralleled Jesus’ power to free us from our own metaphorical cages and entanglements.
“Sit” was the next lesson, aligning with Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.” Learning to sit was foundational for Sasha’s further training, just as stillness and knowing God are essential for spiritual growth and love. My aim wasn’t to control Sasha but to set her free to be her best self, a far cry from a life of rebellion, confinement, or worse. A dog inspired by love to obey is free to bring joy to itself and its master, much like humans freed by Christ from sin.
While leashes, crates, and fences are necessary safety tools and training aids, a dog’s ultimate freedom comes from willing, loving obedience. This transformation, a work of the Holy Spirit, requires a willingness to surrender one’s will to Christ’s care and control, a daily practice akin to Sasha’s yielding to commands. Sasha’s obedience grants her a freedom many dogs never experience, highlighting the profound connection between trust, love, and true liberty.