A while back I told some Christian publishing and writing muck-a-mucks with whom I was having lunch that Crosswalk.com had engaged me to write a blog for them (everything I post here on “Suddenly Christian” also runs on Crosswalk and Christianity.com).

“Oh, no,” said one of my lunch-mates, an author of “Christian Living”-type books. “I’ve done work like that before. It drives you crazy. You have to turn everything that happens to you into a little story lesson about God.”

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you know I pretty much never do that. But that guy’s statement created in my head a kind of ongoing comedy routine, where I always imagine having to turn something I’m seeing or experiencing into one of those little pat Christian Life Lessons About God that pastors and Christian authors are always boring you to death with. Like, if I’m waiting in line at a Starbucks for a cup of coffee, I’ll think … “Waiting for God is just like waiting for a cup of coffee. You want that rich, full, warm, galvanizing experience—but you don’t quite have it yet. To get it you have to wait until the time is right—and only God knows when that is. Like Matthew said before he quit his day job as a tax collector and started following Jesus, “C’mon already! Fork it over!” Poor Matthew. He clearly drank too much coffee. But like that oft-chagrined disciple, we, too, must wait around in a cramped little space with people who have morning breath that could knock out a Rottweiler. For God is the sweet mint that so many of us fail to ingest before we venture outside …” and so on, until my coffee’s ready, or the light’s changed, or the debris from the accident’s been cleared away, or whatever.

It’s stupid, but … whaddaya gonna do?

Anyway, two days ago a woman who works with my wife Cat dropped off her dog for us to take care of for ten days while she goes to visit her family of, apparently, dog haters. (Kidding! I have no idea why she didn’t take her dog with her. I know she’s flying some place far away. Where, apparently, there’s no oxygen. Kidding! But, seriously: God is like travel plans you don’t really understand. You know that after a long journey you’ll end up somewhere, and chances are that place will be delightful. But you’re not sure how to pack for the trip, are you? Does God give provide dental floss? Should you bring your favorite bulky slippers, or pack the little flat ones your niece basically stole from the hospital where she works? For it is not just our souls that we care about, but, let’s face it, our soles.)

Anyway … right.

Dogs. Dogs are huge in publishing right now. People love stories about dogs. I think it’s because dogs are irresistibly cute, emotionally needy, and very easy to please. That is one catnip of a combo. But what do I know about dogs? I’ve always had cats. I’ve had more cats than Old Yeller had fleas. I love dogs—but we’ve never had one, because we’ve always lived in apartments. For some unfathomable reason, apartment owners seem to think cats are less damaging to their surroundings than dogs are. And that’s true—as long as you don’t count the air in it as part of a place’s surroundings.

Anyway, since I’ve been walking, playing, and napping with this dog we’re watching, my brain’s been veritably bombarded with poignant, heartfelt, “What My Dog Taught Me About God” type stuff. Some of which I was going to share with you here. Except now this post is way too long for that. So next time.

Adam: I sure wish we hadn’t eaten that apple. That was dumb.

Eve: Really? Ya’ think?

Adam: Where are we?

Eve: I dunno. I know where we’re NOT.

[both together, dreamily]: Paradise.

Adam: Paradise! I miss it! I want back there so bad!

Eve: Me, too. Maybe if we begged him to let us back in.

Adam: I don’t know, man. Even though I’m new at … well, being alive, I guess, I HATE begging. Something about it.

Eve: Really? I’ve seen you beg. You’re quite good at it.

Adam [blushing]: Well, that was different.

Eve: Sure was for me.

Adam: Let’s do it again.

Eve: Will you stop? We’ve got real problems here.

Adam: I know. But what can we do?

Eve: Well, maybe if we just asked him to let us back in.

Adam: I don’t think it would work. That was one angry control freak.

Eve: Don’t say that! You know he’s still watching us.

Adam: I don’t care. What’s he going to do to us? Banish us some MORE?

Eve: He still loves us.

Adam: Maybe.

Eve: I think maybe if we just asked him …

Adam: I don’t. He was seriously ticked.

Eve: He really was. I was, like, ”Have a COW about it, why don’t ya’?”

Adam: I know. I LOVED it when you said that!

Eve: He didn’t.

Adam: He has no sense of humor.

Eve: No kidding. Look at this place. What IS this stuff?

Adam: Who knows? We can call it anything. It’s not like HE’S already got a name for it. I had to name everything! I can’t believe I spent all that time coming up with names like ”aardvark,” and ”koala.” And now all those guys are in there, and we’re stuck out HERE.

Eve: That koala is so cute.

Adam: He so totally is. Except for his claws are like … like … what’s the big nose part of that one crazy looking bird? The big black one, with the colorful … nose thing?

Eve: Oh, right! The … toucan!

Adam: Yeah, the toucan. The koala had claws as big as the toucan’s nose thing.

Eve: “Toucan.” What a great word. You’re a genius.

Adam: Thanks. You’d think he’d appreciate it just a LITTLE, wouldn’t you?

Eve: I’m sure he does.

Adam: Really? You think this shows a lot of appreciation? I’m glad he’s not MORE appreciative of us. Who knows what he would have done to us then? Put us on the … what’s that thing called again?

Eve: The moon?

Adam: The moon. He would have put us on the MOON.

Eve: Hey, I just had a thought. I think we should call this stuff “sand.”

Adam: Oh, that is good. I love it. That’s just what this stuff is. Sssslips in, goes irritating on you, and then stays. “Saaaannnd.” Perfect. Good job. It is kind of fun naming stuff, isn’t it?

Eve: It is.

Adam: Well, I hope you enjoyed naming this stuff. Because there’s nothing else out here TO name.

Eve: Hey, do you feel guilty?

Adam: You mean that feeling we had right after we ate the apple? When we were hiding from him? You mean do I still feel that way?

Eve: Yeah. Do you?

Adam: I dunno. A little. It’s hard to feel TOO guilty, given what I think it’s safe to call his slight overreaction.

Eve: Well, he DID say we’d die if we ate from that tree. At least he didn’t kill us.

Adam: Don’t be so sure. Maybe we ARE dead. I mean, look at this place! It’s nothing but … that one new word.

Eve: Sand.

Adam: Sand. It’s nothing but sand. That’s ALL we’ve got! So, I don’t know. I did feel a little guilty. A lot, even. But now, really, I’m just angry. This isn’t fair.

Eve: It does seem a tad harsh. But …

Adam: It was that snake! That stupid SNAKE! I’d like to wring that snake’s neck, if it had one.

Eve: That was my fault. I listened to him.

Adam: Of course you did! Who wouldn’t listen to a talking SNAKE!? I’d probably chew off my FOOT if a talking snake told me to. It’s like, “Whoa! Talking animal! All bets are off now!”

Eve: Still. I should have ignored him.

Adam: Hello? Talking snake! Not exactly easy to ignore.

Eve: He was one smooth talker, I’ll give him that.

Adam: Well, you can’t mate with a snake. So stop right there.

Eve: What are you talking about?

Adam: Oh, please. You were obviously taken with him.

Eve: I was not.

Adam: You were too.

Eve: I was NOT.

Adam: Well, you did what he said, didn’t you? There had to be SOMETHING going on there.

Eve: There WASN’T!

Adam: Then why did you do what he said?

Eve [crying]: I don’t know! I don’t know why I did it! It didn’t have anything to do with him, or what he said. I just … I don’t know! I don’t KNOW why I did it! But I did! I did it! I ate from the forbidden tree! I don’t know why! And now we’re ruined!

Adam [putting his arm around her]: I know why you did it. You did it for the exact same reason I would have done it. We were going to eat from that tree no matter what. We didn’t need a tricky snake to encourage us to do it. You can’t tell people that they can do everything but this ONE special thing — and then expect them not to go crazy until they do that one special thing. It’s not … natural.

Eve: We could have ignored it.

Adam: The snake?

Eve: The tree.

Adam: I couldn’t have. I was probably going to eat from it that day anyway. It was driving me crazy. I used to lay awake at night THINKING about that tree. I almost DID eat from it a couple of times. I’m telling you: I was gonna do it.

Eve: You’re so sweet for saying that.

Adam: I’m not being sweet. I’m telling you. I HATE being told what I can and can’t do. As soon as he told us we couldn’t eat from that tree, that’s the tree I wanted to eat from.

Eve: I know. Me too. And now look at us.

Adam: At least we’re still together.

Eve: Yeah. SEPARATING us would have been unbearable.

Adam: We’ll make it through this. We’ll survive.

Eve: I know. As long as I’m with you, I’m still in paradise.

Adam: And we’ll get there again. We messed up, sure. But sooner or later, he’ll forgive us. I know he will.