Never Done That Before

I was sitting at a local gas station the other day having a cup of coffee and just letting my ears catch up on all the local news.

I’ve found that’s a whole lot cheaper than buying a newspaper and, depending on who’s sitting around the table, sometimes more accurate than social media. Around here, gas stations, beauty shops, and little country stores have always had a way of getting right to the heart of a matter. By the time you finish your coffee, you can know who got married, who got divorced, who bought a new truck, who paid too much for it, what's happening in politics, and what their blood pressure was this morning.

While I was sitting there, I heard a fellow talking about somebody and he said,

“I just can’t believe they did that. I never thought I’d see them do something like that.”

I took another drink of coffee and thought, Buddy, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that about a dog, I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking gas-station coffee. I’d be somewhere in Montana on about 5,000 acres.

That statement took me back a few years to early bird season.

I had four German Shorthairs at the time, and I’ll admit I hadn’t worked them much through the summer. I had let them run and burn off energy, but I hadn’t spent much time working on obedience.

My reasoning was pretty simple.

These weren’t puppies. They’d been around. They knew the business.

That right there should have been my first warning.

An old buddy called and said he had a couple regular customers coming to the preserve and asked if I wanted to guide their hunt and work my dogs.

“Absolutely.”

He said there would be around thirty quail, which was perfect. I could swap dogs in and out and give all four some work.

I worked extra hard getting everything done so I could ease out that Friday. When I got there, I let the dogs clean out and stretch their legs. The two gentlemen showed up and were super nice fellows. They had hunted quite a bit, so I figured this was going to be one of those great days.

Good shooters.

Good cover.

Plenty of birds.

Experienced dogs.

Life was good.

For approximately four minutes.

I decided to start with my two younger dogs. I figured they might make a mistake or two, but later I could bring out Gunner and Annie, the A-team, and let them clean up whatever the youngsters missed.

I blew the whistle and released them.

Looking back, that would've been a wonderful time to load all four dogs back in the truck, apologize for the misunderstanding, and go home.

Those two young dogs took off like a couple of shorthairs on crack.

They were running over birds, creeping on points, ignoring commands, and generally behaving like they had never seen me, a whistle, or a quail in their entire lives. Worse than elementary students with a substitute teacher.

It was amateur night at the improv, except I was the only one not laughing.

I kept apologizing to those two gentlemen.

“I promise you, they don't normally act like this.”

Which is a sentence every dog owner has said immediately before his dog proves that he absolutely does act like this.

After about fifteen minutes of chaos, I’d had enough.

I said, “Boys, I’m putting these two scutters up. I’m going to get the A-team.”

Now I was aggravated, but I still had confidence.

I thought, Gunner and Annie will straighten this mess out. These fellows are about to see what a couple of finished bird dogs look like. We’ll reel this hunt back in, find some birds, and restore my reputation.

I turned Gunner and Annie loose.

About two minutes later, Gunner came running back toward me.

With a quail in his mouth.

He hadn't pointed it.

He had apparently decided pointing was an unnecessary middleman in the bird-hunting process.

Meanwhile, I looked for Annie.

She was about 200 yards away and, judging by her direction of travel, may have been hunting in another county.

It got so bad at one point I actually thought about just tripping over nothing, grabbing my leg, and faking an injury so I could get out of there with what little dignity I had left. But the way that day was going, I was afraid if I laid down in the field, one of those dogs would walk over, hike his leg on me, and somehow make the whole thing even worse.

At that point, I was no longer guiding a bird hunt. I was participating in a public humiliation put on by four German Shorthairs.

Whistles were blowing.

Collars were beeping.

Buttons were being pushed.

I was hollering.

Dogs were running.

Quail were probably watching from the brush thinking, “These fellows ain't much threat today.”

We eventually made it through the hunt, but I was miserable. I was embarrassed. And I’m pretty sure those two hunters were wondering if I had picked these dogs up beside the road that morning.

When we finished, I just told them, “Please come back another day.”

And then I said the words that I’m sure they believed about as much as if I had told them I owned beachfront property in Buchanan County:

“My dogs don't ever do that.”

Well...

Apparently they do.

The next several days, me and those dogs enjoyed some quality with help from one-on-one time.

We reviewed obedience.

We reviewed manners.

We reviewed hunting etiquette.

And we had what you might call a few attitude-adjustment sessions.

The next week I took them back out.

They were great.

Same dogs.

Same trainer.

Same basic situation.

Completely different day.

And sitting there drinking that coffee, thinking about that fellow saying, “I can't believe they did that,” the Lord reminded me of something.

People have bad days too.

Sometimes we know somebody for years. We know their character. We respect them. We've watched them walk with the Lord. We've seen them serve others, love their family, and demonstrate faithfulness.

Then one day they say or do something they shouldn't.

They lose their temper.

They make a bad decision.

They disappoint us.

And suddenly everybody is saying,

“I can't believe they did that.”

Well, believe it.

Not because they're necessarily a bad person, but because they're a person.

Even good people are still people.

Peter walked with Jesus, saw miracles, confessed that Jesus was the Christ, and then denied three times that he even knew Him.

David was called a man after God's own heart, yet he had some chapters in his life he surely wished could have been edited out.

The Bible never teaches us to put our ultimate confidence in people.

“It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man.” — Psalm 118:8

That doesn't mean we shouldn't trust people, love people, respect people, or depend on one another. God created us for community.

But there is only One who will never have an off day.

There is only One who will never lose His way.

There is only One who will never need an attitude adjustment.

There is only One about whom we will never have to say, “I can't believe He did that.”

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. — Hebrews 13:8

So when somebody you love or respect has a bad day, don't immediately throw away everything you know about them because of one thing you never thought you'd see them do.

Give some grace.

Pray for them.

Help them get back on track.

Remember that sooner or later, somebody will be saying the same thing about you.

And above all, don't put people on a pedestal that was built for Jesus.

People will disappoint us.

Preachers will disappoint us.

Friends will disappoint us.

Family will disappoint us.

And every once in a while, even a well-trained bird dog will run across a field with your reputation hanging out of its mouth.

But Christ will never fail.

Trust people with grace. Love people through their failures. But put your confidence in Jesus.

And if you ever hear me say, “My dogs don't ever do that,” just slap me and wake me up.