Sweet Bee and Sanctification

by Charles A. Collins, Jr.
Published in the December 2016 issue of the 
Carolina Compass Faith supplement to the 
Charleston Mercury

On July 22, 2204, a black lab-mix (probably with beagle) of around 18-months to two years old (the SPCA said two years but her veterinarian, looking at her teeth [like horses, the most reliable way to age dogs] said 18 months) named Sabrina entered my home and my life. She was a great dog and saw me though good times and bad, triumphs and loss (to include the death of my mother) and I was blessed to have her in my life. Sadly, on October 20, after a brief period of having a reduced appetite, she died suddenly – while I was prepared to have her put down when I loaded her into my car to go to the vet that morning her peaceful death enroute precluded me from having to make that painful decision. While she had lived a good and remarkably healthy life until her very last days, she was a member of the family (and as a childless bachelor it could be argued that she was my immediate family) and the sorrow was profound.

Friends and some family (particularly my Dad) suggested immediately getting another dog. I had to wait a brief while to mourn Sabrina's loss but I had glanced at the Doc Williams SPCA website to see what dogs were available and had noticed another black lab-mix named Bee (that my paternal grandmother was named Beatrice and known to many as “Bea” [granted, a different spelling, but the dog doesn't know] didn't hurt). I stopped by their office not to look at dogs but to thank them for the happiness that Sabrina had brought into my life (it occurred to me that they see the front end of adoptions but not the final outcome) and hadn't planned to look at dogs but they had them in runs right beside the parking lot – brilliant marketing in my opinion. I asked which one was Bee and they pointed me to a dog that, while having a good deal of black lab in her also unmistakably had some pit bull in her as well – I have described her as looking like someone cut the head off of a pit bull and stuck it on a lab's body. I also noticed a hairless scar running down her back where someone had burned her, most likely by pouring lye onto her. The thought of the abuse that that dog had endured pulled at my heartstrings.

I didn't adopt her that day but on a Saturday, November 5, after cleaning out the dog crate and buying a new leash, lead, and bowls (those things being kind of individual items) I went to the SPCA and reasoned that if Bee had been adopted that would mean that God didn't want me to have her. Well, she was there, albeit a bit skittish. The staff thought that she had been abused by a man and had noted that while she was tentative around both men and women she was moreso with men but that she had warmed to staff of both sexes. After talking to them and being observed by them to try to read how she'd interact with me the fee was paid, the paperwork was completed, and I brought her home.

It's been a learning experience for us both and it has occurred to me that the process has been similar in many ways to the sanctification – the putting off of our old selves and the putting on of our new selves in Christ (Colossians 3:9, 10) – which is a lifelong process for us as Christians. It is hard for me to get into the mind of someone who would abuse a dog but I'm pretty sure that whomever the person was that hurt Bee didn't just wake up one day and decide to pour lye or whatever burned her back onto her. That scar is obvious, but I'm sure that she has other, invisible and non-physical wounds. So it is with my own sinfulness – “there is no health in us [and me]” as the Prayer of Confession from Morning and Evening Prayer in the historic Book of Common Prayer reads. While the external may be a model of respectability, “...the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7b ESV).

As we have gotten to know one another the building of trust has been crucial. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5 ESV) At first she was tentative in trusting me. At the suggestion of the SPCA staff I give her dog treats frequently while working, watching television, or reading and she has begun to trust me but that's still a work in progress (they estimated that it may take a month and in some ways things have happened quicker than I hoped – Bee sleeps on my bed and unlike Sabrina, who preferred to curl up at my feet, she prefers to curl up near my shoulder). One day, hopefully, she'll gaze upon me with a look of uninhibited trust. In much the same way, I need to learn to trust in God – the big difference being that He will never fail me.
Sometimes she is stubborn – I've joked that I've figured out what the “bull” in “pit bull” means: bull headed. Likewise I am far too frequently stubborn and resistant to where God is leading me. Again, the difference being that His leadership and His love, unlike mine, are perfect.

I'm enjoying building a relationship with Bee. She has a genuinely sweet countenance (I've yet to hear her growl or even bark and most of the time is responsive to my leading) and I often call her “Sweet Bee.” I hope that as we grow closer I grow ever closer to God as I am conformed to His image and renewed by His grace.

The Rev'd Charles A. Collins, Jr., is an Anglican priest who serves as a chaplain for a local hospice. He may be contacted at drew.collins [at] gmail.com