A Dog’s Love

I've noticed something about homeless people and their dogs.

Whenever I see someone living on the street with a dog, my compassion for the person often takes a back seat to my concern for the animal. My first thought is, That poor dog. It's out here in the heat, the cold, the uncertainty. Then, almost without realizing it, I begin judging the owner. Why would you bring a dog into this life?

But something unexpected came to me while sitting in church.

The dog doesn't care.

Its love transcends understanding.

That dog doesn't measure its owner by income, reputation, mistakes, addiction, or where they sleep at night. It simply loves. Faithfully. Completely. Without conditions.

One day I watched a homeless man empty an entire rack of day-old hot dogs from an AM/PM. I assumed he was taking advantage of the store. Curious, I asked the cashier if he knew what was happening.

He smiled and said, "Yeah. We let him. He comes when we're about to throw them away."

The man walked outside...

...and fed every single hot dog to his dog before taking one for himself.

That moment stayed with me.

Then another thought came.

How do I know his life is somehow less than mine? What if, in some ways, he understands love better than I do?

Maybe there is very little separating the love he has for that dog from the love God has for him.

Perhaps I wasn't witnessing neglect.

Perhaps I was witnessing devotion.

The dog doesn't care that its owner has nothing. It has the one thing it values most—its person. And the owner, despite having almost nothing, still chooses to care for something outside himself.

I couldn't help but think of the Canaanite woman who asked Jesus to heal her daughter. When He said, "It is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the little dogs," she replied, "Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master's table." She wasn't offended; she trusted His goodness. The dog on the street doesn't question its owner's love—it simply stays close. Maybe faith is trusting that whatever comes from the Master's hand, even the crumbs, is enough. That's the kind of trust that moves the heart of God.

I wonder if God was showing me a picture of His own heart.

I am flawed, sometimes confused, selfish, prideful, and at times complete dumpster fire. I fail Him far more than like I’d to admit. Yet His love never wavers. He doesn't withdraw because I’ve become difficult to love.

He remains faithful.

Maybe that's why Jesus told us to become like little children. Children and dogs have something in common—they don't spend much time calculating whether someone deserves their love.

They just love.

Perhaps that's what grace looks like.

Scripture

"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
— Romans 5:8

"The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love."
— Psalm 103:8

Prayer

Lord, forgive me for how quickly I judge what I don't understand. Teach me to see people through Your eyes instead of my assumptions. Give me a love that isn't earned, measured, or withheld—a love that remains faithful, just as Yours does. May I learn from the loyalty of a dog and the mercy of a Savior. Amen.