My wife Sara and I have had a number of pets over the years and each one has had their own distinct personality.  One such pet was an older Chihuahua that we were asked to take charge of.  Princess wanted to be independent and once outside, often rebelled against authority.  We lived in a house that did not have a fence around the yard, so we couldn’t let Princess out without going out with her.

Princess always had a trick or two up her . . . . .  leg.  When we’d let her out, she would take off in a slow trot toward the church building next door where I was pastor.  We quickly figured out that she had no intent of stopping, so each time she approached the property line, we would have to yell “Princess!”, or “Stop!”, or “No!”

That, of course could be tolerated, but her next trick was a bit more devious.  She would hunker down and begin her business, all the while keeping a keen eye on us.  If we turned to look at something in the other direction, Princess would immediately turn and begin trotting off while watching over her shoulder.  As soon as we began to turn back to her, she would stop and resume the pose we had last seen her in.  If she was able to do this a couple of times, she would then break out in a full-out run when she saw us turn back to her.  At this point, she would’ve had a good head start and our only recourse  would be to give chase.

One day, I had taken the little irritant out and was watching her when a friend drove up and began talking to me.  After a few moments, they drove away and I turned to find that I couldn’t find the dog.  This would not have been such a big deal except that I’m pretty sure my wife loved the dog a little more than she loved me and if I wanted supper anytime in the foreseeable future, I was going to need to return to the house with Princess.

I looked down the street and quickly spotted her about a half a block away.  She was sitting next to the road on the edge of a vacant lot, glaring at me.  I called out, “Princess, come here!”

She continued to stare at me.

It was obvious to me that I had not been forceful enough.  Besides, she was a half a block away and getting older by the minute.  I wasn’t sure how good her hearing was, so I yelled a little louder, “Princess, COME here!”

She mocked me with her stare.

Again, I screamed, “PRINCESS, COME HEAR!”

She was unmoved.

I was now livid—and I don’t even know what “livid” means.  This sort of thing had happened a time or two before and the same scenario always played out with my tender-hearted wife walking out to where ever Princess had parked herself.  Sara would pick her up and scold her all the way back to the house.  By the time they arrived back inside, Sara would be pretending to be irritated, but she was already loving on the little thing.

I was not pretending.

I decided that Princess had to be taught to come to me.  I’m the one with the superior intelligence.  I’m the boss.  So I walked as far as the property line between our home and the church, and began to yell at Princess.

She glared at me with the unmoving will power of a block of concrete.

I continued to yell over a period of about five minutes and slowly became aware that several of the neighbors had come out and were now perched on their porches, watching me.  As a pastor, I was used to being watched and was keenly aware that it is always important to set a good example for people.  I figured that I had already blown the don’t-raise-your-voice rule, so I now turned my attention to showing them the importance of being persistent and in charge.

Since I now had an audience, I decided that demanding that Princess must come to me could wait.  So, still irritated and now a bit embarrassed, I began slowly walking toward Princess, all the while yelling for her.   I was now imploring her to come to me.  I stopped every little bit and bent over, clapping my hands together and whistling or cooing, trying to get this unruly beast, which was only slightly larger than a rat, to get up and return to me.

I was trying hard to ignore the increasing presence of the neighbors, but I’m pretty sure I overheard one guy on a cell phone encouraging a friend to hurry over and “see this!”  I glanced back over my shoulder and noticed a handful of neighbors that had ventured off their porches and were crossing yards to discuss something with their friends a house or two closer to where I was.  They were following me.  I was now trying to sound soothing through tightly gritted teeth as I called, “Princess, come here girl!”

When I got closer I was suddenly horrified at what I saw!

The little rat-like dog I had been calling was actually a brown paper bag caught on a weed.  I looked around and noticed many of the neighbors seemed to be snickering.  I had to decide what to do, and quickly.  So I walked up to the bag, bent over, picked it up with both hands and tucked it into the crook of my elbow.  With my free hand, I spanked the bag, said, “Bad dog!” and turned to walk back through the gauntlet of neighbors.

I was greeted back at the house by my wife, who was leaning out the front door.  Princess sat innocently at her feet, wagging her tail.  Sara asked, “What are you doing?”

“NOTHING!” I responded as I walked past her to place the imposter in the trash can and find the check book to see if we had enough in the account to pay for a new pair of glasses.

I realize not everyone is as stubborn as I am.  But we all have our moments.  And all too often, our stubbornness comes out not against a paper bag masquerading as a Chihuahua, but against God’s will in our lives.  The Bible says we “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).  We’ve all rebelled.  And we all have a need to turn back to our Master, Jesus Christ who is imploring us to return to Him:    “Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord, and that he may send the Christ, who has been appointed for you—even Jesus” (Acts 3:19).