I spend a lot of time lying on the porch with one eye open and one ear cocked.
The world passes by in pieces—cars humming, voices arguing, sirens howling in the distance.
Lately, it feels louder than usual.
Not just louder… colder.
My human walks around sometimes with that little glowing box in His hand.
He sighs a lot when He looks at it.
Wars.
Violence.
Hate dressed up as righteousness.
Fear sold by the hour.
After a while, I’ve noticed something troubling—not just in Him, but in folks everywhere.
They stop reacting.
Another headline.
Another tragedy.
Another reason to shake their heads and move on.
The heart builds a callus just to survive.
An old dog like me understands calluses—pads get tough so you can keep walking—but a heart that goes numb stops feeling when it should ache.
Jesus warned us about that kind of cold.
“Because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold” - Matthew 24:12.
Cold love doesn’t usually arrive all at once.
It seeps in.
Drip by drip.
Story by story.
Until compassion feels heavy and outrage feels exhausting.
So we scroll.
We shrug.
We say, “What can you do?” and turn our faces away.
Paul wrote to the Romans with a word that keeps my tail thumping:
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” - Romans 12:2.
That tells me numbness isn’t inevitable—it’s learned.
And what’s learned can be unlearned.
See, when the world gets dark, the temptation is to close your eyes.
But dogs were made to see in low light.
We’re built to notice what others miss. Followers of Jesus are supposed to be the same way—eyes open, hearts tender, noses tuned to the scent of mercy.
Jesus doesn’t numb Himself to our pain.
He stepped right into it.
He wept.
He touched lepers.
He stayed present when the world was cruel and loud and unfair.
On the cross, He felt everything—so we wouldn’t have to go cold just to survive.
An old dog knows this much:
When it’s cold, you don’t pull away from the fire—you move closer.
So maybe the answer isn’t less feeling, but better focus.
Less doom-scrolling, more Scripture-soaking.
Less shouting heads, more listening to the still, small voice.
Less despair… more prayer.
More love.
More light.
The news will keep coming.
Darkness will still bark.
But don’t let the world train your heart to go numb.
Stay close to Jesus.
Keep your heart soft.
And when you feel yourself growing cold—come back to the fire.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
