The Hand That Feeds Me

The Hand That Feeds Me

Most people teach their dogs. I seem to keep learning from mine. When Owen the adorable Cavalier King Charles spaniel was just a pup, we attended obedience school. He really retained only two “obediences” learned there. He sits for his food, and he goes into his kennel when I say, “Kennel up.”

When he’s told to kennel up, Owen marches into his crate without coercion, then turns to face me and sits. He’s come to expect a treat for this, and 99 percent of the time I oblige. By now he would go into his crate whether or not he received a reward for it—but when I see his upturned face and how expectantly he waits, it’s hard for me to walk away without satisfying his desire. He’s not starving. And he wouldn’t whine (much) without a pinch of something good. But he sits and waits for what he hopes will come to him from my hand.

The gulf between Owen’s essential nature and mine is wide. But the gulf between God’s nature and mine is wider still. The truth is, Owen probably is a lot more like me than I am like God. Still, I wonder if my Master isn’t pleased when I look to his hand to reward me and hope for his kindness to bless me. And I wonder if I eye the hand that feeds me even half as hopefully as Owen does.

God’s been good to me. Very good. And he’s done me good long enough for me to cease imagining that his goodness is an anomaly or a fluke. It is not. His is a steady, determined goodness toward me that I can count on. I can trust the hand that feeds me.

Even better—I don’t need to worry about looking silly when I sit expectantly at my Father’s feet. I know he is glad to find me there. And I believe it is not a hardship but a joy for him to feed me from his endless supply of loving-kindness. Because it really is better than life.

They all wait for You to give them their food in due season. You give to them, they gather it up; You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good.

Psalm 104:27-28, NASB