Barka Road

Imagine, if you would, walking down a road in America. Imagine it is just you and a Great Dane doggy, whose head is a little farther above the pavement than your butt is. Picture this: With ever step you take the hundred and fifty pound pooch is matching you stride for stride right behind you. With each step you take he is putting his paw on the respective heel you just moved while peacefully walking. You are being intimidated. For kicks he is nipping on that butt of yours while stepping on your heels. If this were funny, instead of scary it would be great material for the home video TV show.

You can stop imagining as I have been there, done that. No, I am not the Great Dane, just the butt being nipped on.

Why do I have to be on this walk for Jesus Christ? Why do I have to be on this peace walk? Where is a weapon when I need one? From real weapons, to rocks, mace, pepper spray, yelling and screaming, none of these are allowable possibilities for this Walk Across America for the Lord.

During the Great Dane discernment process I only had one alternative left, and it is called prayer. One hundred percent prayer and not the ninety-nine or less we usually do. You know, when we hold on to some pride, self-sufficiency, intelligence, moxie, and so on. The hundred percent type is giving it up period, just plain and simple "Lord I need you, please help me."

The dog left just like that "Whoa!, there must be something to this praying thing!".

As the days and months passed on by, numerous ornery dogs from Rotweilers, to Shepards, to Dobies, to Chihuahuas, and mutts, every kind of four legged canine, and even a three legged type wanted a part of me. I'd seriously pray and the animals would stop in their tracks and leave me alone. Sometimes in the nick of time the pet owner would come outside and whistle for "Duke" to get home. It amazed me how this hundred percent worked. It worked so well that I started praying a block ahead of time if I knew possible trouble was ahead. I was protected, truly protected. "Whoa, Wow, This praying thing really works!"

Almost two years after the one and only Great Dane incident, I was walking along the road past someone's home and a medium size dog tore out of the garage after me. He bit me on the right ankle. From the time I saw the silent dog to teeth time was about five seconds, plenty of time to pray, which I did. After being bitten I was very close to uttering the words "Lord, why have you forsaken me?" Praise God this did not happen as I whispered "Please forgive me, I am sorry I have taken this prayer for granted." It was like over time this sacred communication had turned into a bunch of trivial words. You know much the same way we have turned the Lords Prayer into a mumbling of words that aren't truly coming from the heart. I mean how many of us are really going to pray, " Your will be done". I don't think so as we would have to make some mammoth changes in our lives if we one hundred percent prayed those words. Of course I got bit! My Great Dane one hundred percent prayer over time was no longer one hundred percent.

Imagine if you would that it is dark out in rural America. Imagine you are in a tumble down three-sided shed out in the boonies. You have laid your sleeping bag down in a bed of old rotten hay and are about to eat some sandwiches in the dark and then go to sleep.

The dogs that were barking a few hundred yards away seem to being getting closer all time. Yes, I was pretty stinky, and the wind was blowing from me towards them. It wasn't much longer before I realized what they were after, me. While they were fifty or hundred feet away, it became obvious from their barking one was a twenty-pounder and the other was a hundred pound variety.

It is terribly terrifying to be at the mercy of two dogs that are protecting their territory during the new moon, long after dusk departed. The snarling I could hear, but couldn't see, without prayer was more than I could handle. Sitting on the ground five to ten feet away with only some weeds between me and my death for an hour and a half is something I'd like to not repeat ever again.

There was no fear for eighty-nine of the ninety minutes the dogs were there. That other minute was spread throughout the other eighty-nine and was when I quit praying. It was terrifying! I wanted to cry out loud for help. Praise God this didn't happen. I went back to praying and the fear went away. When I'd try to take matters into my own hands the fear would return.

After an hour and a half the dogs went home and barked for a while longer from a few hundred yards away. I ate my sandwiches and went to bed. One of the nice things about walking across America is my bed doubles as the dinner table. What's a few crumbs in bed anyways? I slept well and dawn arrived the next morning.

Yes, the dogs returned and started all over again. Prayer happened and they went away. Indeed they were a twenty-pounder and a hundred-pounder. I gratefully packed up and hit the road.

God is great all the time. The problem lies in the realm that we pay attention to that fact less that one hundred percent of the time. We shouldn't wonder why our prayers aren't answered. Just who is forsaking whom? Being truly needy is scary, real scary. I don't mean needy like signing up for welfare, but needy period. We will be taken care of.

'Till the next time…

In Christ's Love,

Don.