We have a bad dog. I mean bad in the traditional use of the word. My wife, Stephanie, takes him for a walk on Saturday afternoon. It’s a nice day. He’s a bad dog. A bad dog will ruin a nice day. While they are walking, he slips off his leash and tries to fight a full grown collie. The elderly lady walking the collie is under intense stress. Her full grown collie is being attacked by a miniature dachshund. Stephanie tries to catch Roady, but he won’t let her touch him. It’s all a game to him. Finally, I get a call from my exasperated wife asking me to come get Roady before he gets hit by a car. I get in the van and drive to where they are. I see Roady in some shrubs next to the road. I stop the van, and I run him down. Miniature dachshunds are easy to run down. It’s the bending down to scoop them up that is hard. Roady is put in the van and disciplined.

Roady is a bad dog. He is rude when we have guests. He barks all the time when he goes outside. He has started digging holes all in our back yard. (I’m afraid of what he would do if he had an opposable thumb). However, he is our dog, and we love him. We accept all his quirks. We know all his hang ups. Yet, we still love him. He is part of our family.

Roady helps me to understand how God loves me. To God, I am like Roady. I am not perfect. I can be annoying. Yet, God loves me just the way I am. Now, as someone has once said, He loves me just like I am but He loves me too much to leave me that way. He is changing me. He is making a difference in my life for good. Yet, He loves me while He is changing me. I am glad to say, “I am God’s Roady.”