This morning I set a bone out for my dog, Buena. (Yes, that’s her name. Yes, I love this town, even down to the quirky French we use when saying our town’s name.) I set the bone on a small area rug because of the meat and marrow on it. I knew it could get messy.
As I unwrapped it, I asked her to sit. She sat, even laid down in anticipation, probably already smelling it on the air.
Setting the bone in place, I said, “Wait.” I used the serious dog-command tone when I said it.
She must have known it was for her, for she perked her ears forward and focused her eyes on the bone.
“The trying of your faith worketh patience, Buena.”
Suddenly, that verse made perfect sense.
Her faith is on getting that bone. That I will release her to it.
But not yet. She and I both needed a faith lesson.
“Where’s that in the Bible?” I asked, reaching for my trusty King James Version. Flipping to the concordance at the back, I found it under patience.
“James 1:3,” I told her.
Sitting down, I promptly turned to James and said, “I’m gonna start with verse two to give us some context, Buena.”
She heard what I said, but her eyes were still focused on the bone. She was listening to my every word, waiting for the command.
“My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;
“Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
“But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”
I looked back to Luna Buena and said, “So this is the perfect example. You are listening to my every word, while having faith that the bone is for you. And, look at you, Buena, working out your patience as you wait. You know you’re getting the bone, you have faith in getting the bone.” Pausing to look at her patient obedience, I gave the command.
She sprang forward towards the bone.
As I write this, she’s still chewing on it, the substance of things hoped for.
Pyra works with Creekside Gathering Place in Buena Vista and can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org