Dogs, Teeth and Power over the Darkness

As a child growing up in the Chicago suburbs, our fenced-in backyard ended at the alley.

One day we were in the backyard playing baseball.  My sister, Lorie, was batting.  She nailed the ball, sending it past our garage and across the alley.   It landed in the yard of some people with whom we didn't have many social interactions.  These neighbors didn't have children, so we didn't have much occasion to talk to them.  They did, however, have a short-haired medium-sized black dog that slept on the back porch.  It did occasionally look up when we walked by, but most of the time it slept.

The rule was that if you hit the ball out of the yard, you were responsible for getting it.  After weighing all of the options, the consensus was that Lorie needed to climb over the chain link fence, sneak in and get the ball, trying not to wake the dog.

She gingerly slunk over the fence and then tiptoed carefully towards the middle of the yard.  We watched in silence.  The dog continued to sleep.  She found the ball and picked it up.  Everything was okay.  Then she stepped on a stick and it cracked.

"BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!"  The dog raced after Lorie, snarling and growling, a horrendous grimace on his face.  Lorie took off at a dead run for the fence, the rest of us shouting.  She made it to the fence, literally flipping over, and landed on her back on the pavement.  It seemed the dog was mere inches away from tearing off her foot.  We gathered her up and  hurried into our own backyard.  Lorie was a little bruised from the fall, but most of the damage was from the terror of being chased by the terrifying dog.

Later that afternoon our mother went to the neighbors to explain what happened.  The woman of the house replied, "Oh, it's no trouble for them to come in and get their ball anytime.  That dog couldn't have hurt her.  He doesn't have any teeth."

That was thirty years ago and we still laugh about it.

I have been facing some pain and uncertainty with my health recently.  I know that at least part of it is a spiritual attack.  Fear of the Unknown Future has been wrapping his icy fingers around my heart and mind, causing panic and confusion and anxiety.  I know that Jesus promises that if we resist the devil he will flee (James 4:7), but sometimes it is so difficult simply to stand our ground, much less war against him.  It's especially difficult because what he says feels true, and directly feeds my own fear:  "You will be in pain for the rest of your life.  It will only get worse.  There isn't anything they can do to help you.  Get used to it. Give in and give up."

I asked God to help me, and He reminded me of the Toothless Dog story.  I had to laugh yet again, this time with great relief and peace.  You see, just like the black dog, our enemy the devil doesn't have any teeth.  We are God's children, protected by His grace, and He gives us power over the the darkness, the fear, the anxiety.  Oh, the devil sure puts on a show, racing towards us at breakneck speed to attack, snarling and barking accusations, growling out lies.  But, when it comes right down to it, he cannot hurt us.

The enemy has no teeth.

Now whenever those icy fingers try to close around my heart, I send the Toothless Wonder home to his own hellish backyard, and I remind myself of God's promises to me of healing.  So far, so good.  Fear of the Unknown Future is on its way to becoming merely a memory, just like the formerly terrifying dog.