Leashes Break and Dogs Bite

April 2008

“…sin is crouching at the door; and its desire is for you, but you must master it.”  Genesis 4:7

The morning was crisp and cool—perfect for a light jog. I jumped out of bed around 7am, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and jogging pants, and bolted out of the back door. I had 30 minutes to be alone and ease into the day before my house became alive with the chatter of little ones. Anxious to get some exercise and spend a few valued moments talking with the Lord, I headed down the normal route through my neighborhood.

Nothing new about the path I traveled that day. I passed the same houses and the same driver-less cars warming up for their owners on the tree-lined streets. When I rounded the final corner to head down the last stretch of road, I fully expected to see the man who had become a familiar fixture during my morning jog. Same time and same place on the days I was out, I’d pass this gentleman walking his two beautiful dogs: one black and one brown. We’d grown used to our interchange and each of us always did what was necessary. When I saw them, I’d immediately cross the street and he’d stop to wait for me to pass. The owner would wind the leash that controlled the black dog tightly around his hand and pull back to restrain him. For some reason, that one didn’t like me—or anyone for that matter. Any person or object, living or inanimate, was subject to his cruel tantrums. While the gentle brown one didn’t seem to notice me or care, the black one became vicious at the sight of me. He’d lunge in my direction and snarl with an open mouth full of sharp teeth and foam. I wasn’t afraid. I’d grown used to this and appreciated my neighbor for being so trustworthy and polite in restraining that wild beast. Every day, the same drill: I passed by while the dog barked in hopes of making an attack. I was sure this morning would be no different.

The pleasantries between my neighbor and myself were the same: the smile, the wave, the “good morning”. I began to cross the street to take my usual place on the other side while he pulled back on his livid dog. I didn’t glance back at them until I was on the opposite sidewalk, and when I did, I saw a sight I wasn’t prepared for. The crazed animal had lunged at me with so much force this day that his leash snapped, breaking at the base. The dog was racing feverishly across the street in my direction. I began screaming at the top of my lunges as terror gripped my heart. There wasn’t much I could do. I knew if I ran I’d start a chase that would never end. But I couldn’t have run anyway. I was paralyzed; my feet seemed held to the ground by some unseen power beneath the earth. Despite his owner’s frantic calls, the dog made it over to me in a split second. He lunged into my thigh, tearing through my jogging pants and taking out a small piece of flesh. He continued barking and terrorizing me for only a few more seconds before my neighbor finally made it across the road, tackling his dog to the ground. It seemed like an eternity had passed. I limped the rest of the way home.

This episode happened 1 year ago. I’ve got a new route now. I’m not going down that road ever again.

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Why do I …why do we play with fire? Why do we get so comfortable passing so closely to danger? Shouldn’t I have known that at some point something like this was bound to happen? Leashes break and dogs like this one eventually bite. How long could I pass by this animal and not expect to get into some trouble? Why did it take the bite to get me to change my route and stop playing games with my safety?

It seems that there is nothing new under the sun, because Joseph learned this lesson long ago. He had a normal routine just like me. It seems that “day after day” (Genesis 39:10), he found himself in the same place at the same time participating in the same activity: overseeing his employer’s personal wealth and fortune. From the early morning hours until the late evening, his charge was to manage all that Potiphar held dear. Joseph was trusted and had access to everything that he owned. Soon a dog started barking, and it couldn’t be ignored. Potiphar’s wife lusted for Joseph and began to request that he look after more than just her husband’s wealth. He did what most of us do in situations like this one; he crossed over to the other side of road assuming that this simple act would secure his safety. With the barking dog still in his sights just on the next sidewalk—yet with good and honest intentions each day—he played with fire.  Day after day, he refused to compromise while hoping the leash would hold fast.  Yet, the dog barked, showing it’s sharp teeth more and more each day. (Genesis 39:7-8). And one cool, crisp morning…the leash broke. . .

Now it happened one day that he went into the house to do his work, and none of the men of the household was there inside. And she caught him by his garment saying, “Lie with me! And he left his garment in her hand and fled, and went outside. When she saw that he had left his garment in her hand and fled outside. Then she spoke to [her master] with these words, “The Hebrew slave, whom you brought to us, came in to me to make sport of me and it happened as I raised my voice and screamed that he left his garment beside me and fled outside.

With one swift lie falling from the lips of Potiphar’s wife, the damage was done and a bite taken out of Joseph character not to mention his future. He was fired from his job and sentence to a stint behind bars. If only he’d run sooner. How would his life had been different had he chosen to walk down a different path long before the breaking of the leash?

Friend, make no mistake about it, leashes break and dogs bite. You can only walk down a road so close to that ferocious beast for so long before you are shocked by the position you find yourself in. Don’t play with fire. Whether it is the illicit relationship, X-rated internet site, forbidden lifestyle or illegal decision, always remember that it will not be too long before you wish you’d changed the path you traveled down. Your distance from danger may seem appropriate, but if you can still see the dog and hear the intimidating growl, you are too close for comfort. Sin is crouching at the door, deliberately awaiting the right time to take a bit out of you. Don’t give it the opportunity. Today, decide to go down a different road.