Most mornings, I stay put until I hear it—the jingle of the leash.
I can say I want a walk.
I can whine about it, thump my tail, even sit by the door with my best hopeful look.
But when my Master reaches down and clips that leash on, that’s when wanting turns into walking.
If I don’t get up and move, all my good intentions don’t amount to much.
Faith works the same way.
James puts it plainly, in a way even an old dog can understand:
“Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” James 2:17.
That doesn’t mean works save us—no sir.
My being part of the family had nothing to do with how fast I ran or how well I behaved.
I was chosen first.
Loved first.
Brought home first.
But once I belonged, my life changed.
You see, when I trust my Master, I follow Him.
When He opens the door, I don’t just admire the sunshine—I step into it.
When He calls, I come.
Not because I have to, but because I know His voice, and I know He’s good.
That’s living what we say we believe.
It’s easy to talk faith while lying in the shade.
It’s harder when obedience means getting up off the porch.
Loving people who are prickly.
Forgiving when it still hurts.
Serving when no one notices.
Speaking truth gently instead of snapping.
Walking the path even when it’s uphill.
Faith that never moves… never really trusts.
An old dog learns this over time:
The Master doesn’t put the leash on to wear us out.
He puts it on to take us somewhere.
The walk strengthens our legs, sharpens our senses, and reminds us we were made for more than lying still.
So if we say we believe—good.
That’s where it starts.
Now let that belief stretch its legs.
Let it show up in how we love
… how we speak
… how we serve
… and how we walk when the Master leads.
Because real faith doesn’t just nod its head.
It gets up… and follows.
Let’s live what we say believe… get up off the couch and put our faith to work.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
