Two for Flinching

We have a white mutt of a dog named Zeddie. He is a rescue dog that our family adopted from friends several years ago. He had obviously been abused and most likely by men (based on his reaction to any man that comes around.) Even after all of these years of living with us (and countless affectionate scratching) he cowers when I approach him. I don't really blame him--it's now a natural reaction from his past. Trust was broken in him a long time before we had him and this protective mechanism has  become the pattern of his life. 

It's not a whole lot different with us. When our trust has been betrayed we no longer feel safe. Whether it was mistreatment at the hands of family members, a relationship destroyed due to infidelity, or our attempt at honesty being quickly and severely dismissed, the result is the same. The sad side effect is that it also impacts our relationship with God. We wonder how He could have possibly let this happen to us and we shrink back when He approaches us because we question His motives. It's an unfortunate projection of human failings on an imperfect God who desires intimacy with His children. 

The only way to battle through it is to take the risk of letting God reach out to our bruised and battered spirits. Taking that first step might be one of the hardest things we'll ever do, but I know from experience that we won't regret it. The touch of a loving Father heals our brokenness and fills us with hope when we can't seem to find it anywhere.