Harvey the Dog
Horseshoe Canyon Ranch in Arkansas has mountain-climbing, zip-lining, horseback-riding, arrow-shooting, and trail-hiking.
But my favorite part of it is Harvey the Dog.
The animals there had clearly defined roles and boundaries. Horses were to be ridden by guests; goats were to be raised, sold, and eaten; Ruger the Dog was tasked with guarding the goats.
Harvey didn’t care. He was supposed to have a job, but he didn’t. I heard one ranch hand call Harvey a purposeless goof.
Harvey went on a two-hour hike with us, not as a work animal but as a hiker. The last time I saw Harvey he was sprinting like a happy maniac in circles around a trail-ride. As always, Harvey was contributing only his joyful disregard for what ranch life expected him to do.
Harvey made me smile when I was feeling tired and down. He did it mainly because he didn’t care about the ranch’s roles and boundaries.
In John 4, the Jewish Jesus (who is also the Word of God) starts up a conversation with a Samaritan woman. The assumed boundaries tell us the conversation shouldn’t happen. Jews and Samaritans were religious enemies. They didn’t share cups of water.
The conversation happens anyway. And it becomes Jesus’ longest conversation with anyone. It bears new life and fresh fruit.
The nameless woman perks up and becomes an evangelist. Other Samaritans come, strike up their own conversations with Jesus, and find faith. Jesus stays for two days in a place the assumed boundaries say he should have never been.
And I find a ray of life because Jesus – like Harvey – ignores boundaries. So, maybe Jesus is willing to talk to me.
And, because of him, maybe I’ll be willing to talk to people this world of walls tells me I should never meet.
But my favorite part of it is Harvey the Dog.
The animals there had clearly defined roles and boundaries. Horses were to be ridden by guests; goats were to be raised, sold, and eaten; Ruger the Dog was tasked with guarding the goats.
Harvey didn’t care. He was supposed to have a job, but he didn’t. I heard one ranch hand call Harvey a purposeless goof.
Harvey went on a two-hour hike with us, not as a work animal but as a hiker. The last time I saw Harvey he was sprinting like a happy maniac in circles around a trail-ride. As always, Harvey was contributing only his joyful disregard for what ranch life expected him to do.
Harvey made me smile when I was feeling tired and down. He did it mainly because he didn’t care about the ranch’s roles and boundaries.
In John 4, the Jewish Jesus (who is also the Word of God) starts up a conversation with a Samaritan woman. The assumed boundaries tell us the conversation shouldn’t happen. Jews and Samaritans were religious enemies. They didn’t share cups of water.
The conversation happens anyway. And it becomes Jesus’ longest conversation with anyone. It bears new life and fresh fruit.
The nameless woman perks up and becomes an evangelist. Other Samaritans come, strike up their own conversations with Jesus, and find faith. Jesus stays for two days in a place the assumed boundaries say he should have never been.
And I find a ray of life because Jesus – like Harvey – ignores boundaries. So, maybe Jesus is willing to talk to me.
And, because of him, maybe I’ll be willing to talk to people this world of walls tells me I should never meet.