Of Dogs and Saints: Mutts One And All

I love dogs. All dogs. Big and small, scruffy, slobbery, refined... having a dog in one's life is one of life's great pleasures.

My last dog was a mutt. She may not have been a show dog (because, after all, one must be a pure bred to be considered worthy of such an honor. Or some such nonsense.), but she was beautiful. Part golden retriever, part black lab, she was short and blonde. She shed her fur uncontrollably. She loved to jump up with excitement whenever my wife or I came into the room. She was well-behaved, loyal, loving. She may not have been some judge's idea of a perfect dog, but she was the perfect dog for us. No breeding certificate necessary.

But just as some people erroneously believe the only worthwhile dog is the one that fits some nonsensical definition of picture perfect, we often wind up with the same view when it comes to God's children. We have this idea in our minds of what a Picture-perfect Christian looks like. How Christians are "supposed to" act. The music they're "supposed to" listen to. How they're "supposed to" dress.

When I was in high school, I had a subscription to a magazine for "Christian" teens. Or at least, the publisher's idea of a Christian teen. I don't remember much about it, but one article -- or at least the visual elements of the article -- is still seared into my head. On the left was their idea of an "extreme" teenager. His hair was slightly in his eyes (this is the 90s, remember). He wore very nice jeans. His tie-dye shirt may or may not have been tucked in. The image on the right was an Amish kid. The other "extreme." In the middle stood the publisher's ideal Christian Young Man: neatly parted hair, wrinkle-free slacks, polo shirt. This, the article suggested, was how one dressed as a Christian. The Uniform of the Holy.

Honestly, it made me wonder whether I could walk with Jesus if I didn't own an iron.

The truth is, though, there are no pure bred Christians. We are, none of us, picture-perfect in any way that actually matters to the Living God. Can anyone honestly believe our sinful wretchedness is more palatable to the Most High if we but listen to the right music, say the right words, and wear the right coordinating socks?

The Apostle Paul was a Jew's Jew. A Chosen Man from among the Chosen People. Here are his words: This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief (1 Timothy 1:15).

Only by the blood of Jesus Christ can I enter the presence of God. And only by my living like Him will I show the World that I am His. We've created all these trappings. All these arbitrary rules for being a Christian. Yet the deepest desire of Christ is for all of us adopted mutts to go tell the rest of the mutts He wants them, too. Fat or skinny. Shaggy or well-groomed. With papers or without. Big, clumsy, sloppy, shedding. He wants you to know He loves you. Come as you are, chief of all sinners, and find Grace.