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Good morning.  Have you ever heard of the agnostic dyslexic who asks: is there a dog?
That question gets repeated around my house daily at this time of year, and not just in theological jest. These days are made for hats and scarves and welly boots, walking preferably somewhere windy, to blow the cares away, and up a hill, to get perspective. No offence to cat-lovers – I love cats too – but when it comes to a W-A-L-K then it’s time to find a dog.

I have a friend who discovered, through her dog, something of the abounding love of God. Her eldest child had gone far away to college. Despite friends and family, she was down in the whisker. One evening she went in the kitchen where their two-year old black Labrador greeted her warmly. Instead of patting him and pushing on past, she sat down on the floor. The dog pushed his chest against hers to get a little closer, then flopped down next to her, his head in her lap and the tip of his tail brushing the floor with his wag. 

She shared this moment with a friend who asked, ‘is there any religion – has there ever been one – which speaks of a God who loves us as much as a dog?’ And there began for her a theological exploration that addresses our central human longing to be deeply loved: through the metaphor of God as ‘dog’. One who is willing to roll in the earth with us, who is willing to dive in to ‘rescue’ us and whose tracks can be seen throughout our homes and lives.

Gracious God, may we know your presence with us this day: touch us afresh with your abounding love and faithfulness. Amen.