About three years ago, I spent a solid week on the internet trying to figure out what happened to Jack. Within a matter of hours, he spiraled down from the Jack we know to the Jack we no longer have. My husband, Bud, witnessed his horrific death. He howled, gasped, bled from the inside, and finally, at the vet clinic, breathed his last.
Jack was a chocolate lab whose character was built in part on the affectionate jesting of others; particularly, Bud’s hunting comrades. His dwarfish stature caused people to wonder if indeed he were part wiener dog. Nonetheless, he had our affection and gave us his, and held the highly esteemed role as my husband’s hunting companion.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was welcome to grace us with his licks, step on our feet with his sharp, heavy toenails, and wait for us at the sliding glass door until he was an old dog. Of course, his body warned us of the possibility he would be arthritic and house-bound when he was middle-aged, but he needed to do nothing more to earn our willingness to just simply let him be with us during those years, and to pass the field baton to a spry younger dog.
My daughters asked me if Jack went to heaven. I guess it’s the same question adults wonder but only kids ask (thank goodness they do so we don’t have to). I saw my friend and pastor, Bill, the week after he died and admitted my sadness, and asked him what he thought. He concurred with my uncertainty, as God chose not to specifically reveal that to us. However, he led me to Romans 8:18-23, encouraged me with what it might be saying, and I began my own quest for answers. Now, please keep in mind, first of all, that I never really found any. Secondly, I am no theologian. I don’t even have a gold star for following a “read the Bible in one year” plan. I’m just a person who lost her dog and, when no one was looking, cried my eyes out. This is just my way of reaching for a Kleenex. I’m telling you what I found. You draw your own conclusions.
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body.” (Romans 8:18-23, NAS)
That’s a mouthful. What on earth does that mean? My guess is very few fully understand it. But I started doggy-digging around, all the way back to the time animals came on the scene. In Genesis, God made the heavens and the earth, the beasts, and then us. He commissioned us to name the animals and to rule over them – to be responsible for them. And He saw that it was good. Nearly a split-second later, Adam and Eve ate the fruit that was forbidden them, giving teeth to their belief that they were more fit than God to rule the affairs of creation as well as their own. And so, God cursed the woman and the man, and cursed the ground, and all of creation was affected. In order for us to still have some dominion over it in our fallen state, it had to be brought lower (I guess this explains a lot). The entire animal kingdom was affected. “For the creation was subjected to futility not of its own will, but because of Him who subjected it (Rom 8:20)” The Greek word used here for “futility” is mataiotēs, meaning “depraved, frail and lacking vigor”. “Vigor” is the last word I would use to describe Jack on that ugly day.
It sounds to me like this wasn’t the way God intended it to be. We were meant to live in Eden together: beast in perfect relation to man, and man in perfect relation to God. Man messed it up, and animals suffered as a result. Maybe this is why it’s so dang hard to lose an animal. And maybe this is a clue to why we domesticate them. Perhaps we are attempting to restore, at least in some small way, what was lost here. But when they die, we don’t know what to do with it. We feel the heavy cloak of sadness, but we don’t know where to hang it. We know, through the work of the cross, we will be saved, restored from our futility. What about the animals?
Rolling over to Romans 8:21 again:
“…in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”
The Greek word for “creation” as is used here means “all created things”. We are told in Genesis that “all created things” includes animals. Fr. John Dresko, priest in the Orthodox Church in America, encourages us with good news, and says it like this: “Animals, indeed, the whole world and all of creation, will share in the coming again of Christ and the eternal reign of the Kingdom of God. The corruption that they face because they exist in this fallen world will be washed away in the re-creation of the world in Jesus Christ.” ¹ Isaiah gives us a glimpse of this day of redemption for us:
“The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. The infant will play near the hole of the cobra, and the young child put his hand into the viper’s nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11:6-9, NIV)
Ah, it sounds like the way He originally meant it to be. Restoration. This helps. But still, what about MY dog? The one I lost? Now, I realize I’ve already put myself out there getting this far; perhaps too far, but indulge me and let me take it a step further. Is there any reason “all created things” couldn’t include the animals we love? The animals we bonded with? The ones we knew by name? The bible doesn’t say anything to the contrary. It just doesn’t tell us this specifically.
Interestingly, C.S. Lewis took some liberty on this subject and argued, albeit controversially, that animals achieve resurrection by being caught up in the lives of their human masters. His suggestion, in short: man is subordinate to God; animals subordinate to man; and therefore, their destiny – their “redemption” – is related to their human master.
In one of my favorite novels, “The Great Divorce”, C.S. Lewis describes a scene in which he and bus-mates – new arrivals to heaven – come upon woman who was being honored in heaven for her earthly service, surrounded by her children. In addition, they notice something else:
“What are all those animals? A cat, two cats-dozens of cats. And all those dogs . . . why, I can’t count them. And the birds. And the horses.”
“They are her beasts.”
“Did she keep a sort of zoo? I mean, this is a bit too much.”
“Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in her love. In her they became themselves. And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them.” ²
Did C.S. Lewis go too far in this illustration? Take too much liberty? I don’t know. But I do think it’s interesting that God left this unmentioned. It’s almost like he was hoping we’d have these discussions – hoping we’d let our imagination run wild – and was curious about what we would come up with.
Still, that seems like nothing more than a cruel experiment on the heels of losing a pet you love. Does He enjoy watching us drown our sorrows in the dog dish, lapping up what water remains to soothe us? Why didn’t He just save us from the confusion? Why hide His intentions? Here are my half-baked thoughts that formed in the midst of this digging: Perhaps he didn’t mention it because it makes us rely on His character to fill in the blanks. It forces us to trust in His compassion, His love, and frankly, maybe His own yearning to make things right with His own creative work (70 breeds of cats? And 157 breeds of dogs? Who else could come up with this?) And, it makes us ponder restoration. Does heaven mean we are beamed up from a world we are familiar with, to a new world with harps, clouds, and heaven forbid, poorly-written praise choruses that never end? Or does it mean more than that? Perhaps restoring everything to the way He had intended? Eden to fallen earth, fallen earth back to Eden. Is this the kingdom of God? Perhaps our pains are clues to what heaven will be like. Whatever hurts us is something that wasn’t meant to be. Something that will be restored.
I can think of one other possibility. Yesterday, my oldest daughter turned 13. “All” she wanted for her birthday was to adopt a cat from the animal shelter. Since losing Jack, the stork brought us a black lab, Gunner, and our very first cat, Molly. We (meaning Bud and I) felt our animal family was more than complete; that we were animal-sterile, and so we told Megan that another one was not possible. Being smarter than the both of us put together, when asked what else she might want for her birthday, she replied “nothing”. No gift, no party. Nothing. The day before her birthday, her sly plan worked its magic on Bud. He caved; then I caved, and we began planning the surprise. I took the girls to the spa; then Bud showed up with a poster wrapped in ribbon. It had a picture of a cat who was saying “Please adopt me. My mom and dad said it was ok if I come and live with you”. It really was worth the look on her face. “Really?” she kept saying. Maybe, just maybe, God hides his intentions because it’s supposed to be a surprise. Maybe the restoration of the animals we love is something He’s got up His sleeve. A parent usually has a pretty good idea of what makes his kids light up, and really does love to knock their kids’ socks off by surprising them with it.
So what if we speculate and are way off the mark? Does it really matter? For years I was tyrannized by the fear of being wrong about what the Bible has to say about things. Honestly, I think the Bible’s main purpose is to show us who God is. Certainly there are things He is clear on, and that are non-negotiable. But when get to know Him ever so slightly, we find out that He is wild and full of mystery. Just when we think we have Him figured out, he bucks our neat, tidy conclusions off his bare, un-saddled back. He is the inventor of imagination. And I have a hunch that it flatters Him when we use that imagination to dream a little in places where He has left things unclear.
Last week we watched the movie ‘Spirit – Stallion of the Cimarron”, and I admittedly let that imagination gallop. Spirit is a wild young mustang who is taken captive by soldiers settled on the American frontier. He meets a young Lakota boy who is tied up to a stake right next to him. The soldiers were trying to tame both of their relentlessly free spirits so they could be put to good use. During his captivity, Spirit is forced into harsh, back-breaking work in pulling a locomotive steam engine over the hill to meet its new tracks. The horse and his young comrade both yearn for their homelands and search out their freedom and together. At the pinnacle of the movie, they break free. The scene takes place in an area much like the Grand Canyon. The soldiers chase Spirit, with the boy on his back, all the way to the rim of a steep capped dome. The horse stops, breaths giant gusts out of his nostrils, closes his eyes in solid determination, and then leaps over a giant gorge, stretching to the edge of another steeped-walled canyon. The boy yelps as they fly over the gorge, and they land together in a heap on the other side, winning their freedom. Maybe this is a picture of what’s happening with our animal comrades. Maybe together we are “groaning”, breaking our backs pulling heavy loads while we search for our freedom and long for our homeland. Then, at different times, we reach the pinnacle of our story. Surrounded on every side, we leap over the canyon and land on the other side together, in a pile – slobber and saint.
So how do we leap from our rim of sorrow, face-down in the dog dish, to solid ground, where we are ready to welcome a new animal? A place where we are willing to get attached to – then lose – another one? Well, we use our imagination, that’s how. Right now, I’m imagining Jack sprawled out on his heavenly deck, drooling as he smells his next buffet cooking – and waiting for us to land. Bud and our girls agree.
This canine-feline-equine musing is nuzzingly dedicated to Jack, Jazzy, Dee Dee, Zak, Tanner, Junior, Chelsea, Jiggs Sr., Brandy, Dixie, Zoe, Cisco, Koobie, Annie, Spunky, and Sweet Bay.
Endnotes:
1. Dresko, Father John (Priest in the Orthodox Church in America, and President of the Alumni Association of St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Seminary): Excerpt from Father Joe’s blog:
http://fatherjoe.wordpress.com/2008/01/07/do-dogs-go-to-heaven/
2. Lewis: C.S., The Great Divorce, 108
3. For an interesting read on the topic, visit http://www.emmitsburg.net/tumc/pastor_wade/2005/pets.htm
Jack was a chocolate lab whose character was built in part on the affectionate jesting of others; particularly, Bud’s hunting comrades. His dwarfish stature caused people to wonder if indeed he were part wiener dog. Nonetheless, he had our affection and gave us his, and held the highly esteemed role as my husband’s hunting companion.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was welcome to grace us with his licks, step on our feet with his sharp, heavy toenails, and wait for us at the sliding glass door until he was an old dog. Of course, his body warned us of the possibility he would be arthritic and house-bound when he was middle-aged, but he needed to do nothing more to earn our willingness to just simply let him be with us during those years, and to pass the field baton to a spry younger dog.
My daughters asked me if Jack went to heaven. I guess it’s the same question adults wonder but only kids ask (thank goodness they do so we don’t have to). I saw my friend and pastor, Bill, the week after he died and admitted my sadness, and asked him what he thought. He concurred with my uncertainty, as God chose not to specifically reveal that to us. However, he led me to Romans 8:18-23, encouraged me with what it might be saying, and I began my own quest for answers. Now, please keep in mind, first of all, that I never really found any. Secondly, I am no theologian. I don’t even have a gold star for following a “read the Bible in one year” plan. I’m just a person who lost her dog and, when no one was looking, cried my eyes out. This is just my way of reaching for a Kleenex. I’m telling you what I found. You draw your own conclusions.
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body.” (Romans 8:18-23, NAS)
That’s a mouthful. What on earth does that mean? My guess is very few fully understand it. But I started doggy-digging around, all the way back to the time animals came on the scene. In Genesis, God made the heavens and the earth, the beasts, and then us. He commissioned us to name the animals and to rule over them – to be responsible for them. And He saw that it was good. Nearly a split-second later, Adam and Eve ate the fruit that was forbidden them, giving teeth to their belief that they were more fit than God to rule the affairs of creation as well as their own. And so, God cursed the woman and the man, and cursed the ground, and all of creation was affected. In order for us to still have some dominion over it in our fallen state, it had to be brought lower (I guess this explains a lot). The entire animal kingdom was affected. “For the creation was subjected to futility not of its own will, but because of Him who subjected it (Rom 8:20)” The Greek word used here for “futility” is mataiotēs, meaning “depraved, frail and lacking vigor”. “Vigor” is the last word I would use to describe Jack on that ugly day.
It sounds to me like this wasn’t the way God intended it to be. We were meant to live in Eden together: beast in perfect relation to man, and man in perfect relation to God. Man messed it up, and animals suffered as a result. Maybe this is why it’s so dang hard to lose an animal. And maybe this is a clue to why we domesticate them. Perhaps we are attempting to restore, at least in some small way, what was lost here. But when they die, we don’t know what to do with it. We feel the heavy cloak of sadness, but we don’t know where to hang it. We know, through the work of the cross, we will be saved, restored from our futility. What about the animals?
Rolling over to Romans 8:21 again:
“…in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”
The Greek word for “creation” as is used here means “all created things”. We are told in Genesis that “all created things” includes animals. Fr. John Dresko, priest in the Orthodox Church in America, encourages us with good news, and says it like this: “Animals, indeed, the whole world and all of creation, will share in the coming again of Christ and the eternal reign of the Kingdom of God. The corruption that they face because they exist in this fallen world will be washed away in the re-creation of the world in Jesus Christ.” ¹ Isaiah gives us a glimpse of this day of redemption for us:
“The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. The infant will play near the hole of the cobra, and the young child put his hand into the viper’s nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11:6-9, NIV)
Interestingly, C.S. Lewis took some liberty on this subject and argued, albeit controversially, that animals achieve resurrection by being caught up in the lives of their human masters. His suggestion, in short: man is subordinate to God; animals subordinate to man; and therefore, their destiny – their “redemption” – is related to their human master.
In one of my favorite novels, “The Great Divorce”, C.S. Lewis describes a scene in which he and bus-mates – new arrivals to heaven – come upon woman who was being honored in heaven for her earthly service, surrounded by her children. In addition, they notice something else:
“What are all those animals? A cat, two cats-dozens of cats. And all those dogs . . . why, I can’t count them. And the birds. And the horses.”
“They are her beasts.”
“Did she keep a sort of zoo? I mean, this is a bit too much.”
“Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in her love. In her they became themselves. And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them.” ²
Did C.S. Lewis go too far in this illustration? Take too much liberty? I don’t know. But I do think it’s interesting that God left this unmentioned. It’s almost like he was hoping we’d have these discussions – hoping we’d let our imagination run wild – and was curious about what we would come up with.
Still, that seems like nothing more than a cruel experiment on the heels of losing a pet you love. Does He enjoy watching us drown our sorrows in the dog dish, lapping up what water remains to soothe us? Why didn’t He just save us from the confusion? Why hide His intentions? Here are my half-baked thoughts that formed in the midst of this digging: Perhaps he didn’t mention it because it makes us rely on His character to fill in the blanks. It forces us to trust in His compassion, His love, and frankly, maybe His own yearning to make things right with His own creative work (70 breeds of cats? And 157 breeds of dogs? Who else could come up with this?) And, it makes us ponder restoration. Does heaven mean we are beamed up from a world we are familiar with, to a new world with harps, clouds, and heaven forbid, poorly-written praise choruses that never end? Or does it mean more than that? Perhaps restoring everything to the way He had intended? Eden to fallen earth, fallen earth back to Eden. Is this the kingdom of God? Perhaps our pains are clues to what heaven will be like. Whatever hurts us is something that wasn’t meant to be. Something that will be restored.
I can think of one other possibility. Yesterday, my oldest daughter turned 13. “All” she wanted for her birthday was to adopt a cat from the animal shelter. Since losing Jack, the stork brought us a black lab, Gunner, and our very first cat, Molly. We (meaning Bud and I) felt our animal family was more than complete; that we were animal-sterile, and so we told Megan that another one was not possible. Being smarter than the both of us put together, when asked what else she might want for her birthday, she replied “nothing”. No gift, no party. Nothing. The day before her birthday, her sly plan worked its magic on Bud. He caved; then I caved, and we began planning the surprise. I took the girls to the spa; then Bud showed up with a poster wrapped in ribbon. It had a picture of a cat who was saying “Please adopt me. My mom and dad said it was ok if I come and live with you”. It really was worth the look on her face. “Really?” she kept saying. Maybe, just maybe, God hides his intentions because it’s supposed to be a surprise. Maybe the restoration of the animals we love is something He’s got up His sleeve. A parent usually has a pretty good idea of what makes his kids light up, and really does love to knock their kids’ socks off by surprising them with it.
So what if we speculate and are way off the mark? Does it really matter? For years I was tyrannized by the fear of being wrong about what the Bible has to say about things. Honestly, I think the Bible’s main purpose is to show us who God is. Certainly there are things He is clear on, and that are non-negotiable. But when get to know Him ever so slightly, we find out that He is wild and full of mystery. Just when we think we have Him figured out, he bucks our neat, tidy conclusions off his bare, un-saddled back. He is the inventor of imagination. And I have a hunch that it flatters Him when we use that imagination to dream a little in places where He has left things unclear.
Last week we watched the movie ‘Spirit – Stallion of the Cimarron”, and I admittedly let that imagination gallop. Spirit is a wild young mustang who is taken captive by soldiers settled on the American frontier. He meets a young Lakota boy who is tied up to a stake right next to him. The soldiers were trying to tame both of their relentlessly free spirits so they could be put to good use. During his captivity, Spirit is forced into harsh, back-breaking work in pulling a locomotive steam engine over the hill to meet its new tracks. The horse and his young comrade both yearn for their homelands and search out their freedom and together. At the pinnacle of the movie, they break free. The scene takes place in an area much like the Grand Canyon. The soldiers chase Spirit, with the boy on his back, all the way to the rim of a steep capped dome. The horse stops, breaths giant gusts out of his nostrils, closes his eyes in solid determination, and then leaps over a giant gorge, stretching to the edge of another steeped-walled canyon. The boy yelps as they fly over the gorge, and they land together in a heap on the other side, winning their freedom. Maybe this is a picture of what’s happening with our animal comrades. Maybe together we are “groaning”, breaking our backs pulling heavy loads while we search for our freedom and long for our homeland. Then, at different times, we reach the pinnacle of our story. Surrounded on every side, we leap over the canyon and land on the other side together, in a pile – slobber and saint.
So how do we leap from our rim of sorrow, face-down in the dog dish, to solid ground, where we are ready to welcome a new animal? A place where we are willing to get attached to – then lose – another one? Well, we use our imagination, that’s how. Right now, I’m imagining Jack sprawled out on his heavenly deck, drooling as he smells his next buffet cooking – and waiting for us to land. Bud and our girls agree.
This canine-feline-equine musing is nuzzingly dedicated to Jack, Jazzy, Dee Dee, Zak, Tanner, Junior, Chelsea, Jiggs Sr., Brandy, Dixie, Zoe, Cisco, Koobie, Annie, Spunky, and Sweet Bay.
Endnotes:
1. Dresko, Father John (Priest in the Orthodox Church in America, and President of the Alumni Association of St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Seminary): Excerpt from Father Joe’s blog:
http://fatherjoe.wordpress.com/2008/01/07/do-dogs-go-to-heaven/
2. Lewis: C.S., The Great Divorce, 108
3. For an interesting read on the topic, visit http://www.emmitsburg.net/tumc/pastor_wade/2005/pets.htm
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