It all started when I took a nap like old dogs do sometimes - this time it was after my human had read the story of Jesus entering the temple grounds that Holy Week… and suddenly, in my dream, I was there.
Like I often do, I was laying on the cool ground watching folks come and go.
That’s a dog’s job, you know—watching, waiting, listening.
But my ears perked up because this time something didn’t feel right.
There was a whole lot of noise… but not the good kind.
Not the kind when my human laughs or calls my name.
No, this was loud, sharp, busy noise. Coins clinking.
Voices haggling.
Feet shuffling like folks were more interested in trading than praying.
And right in the middle of it all… was Jesus.
Now I don’t understand everything, but I know His voice.
I know His scent.
I know when His heart is stirred.
And this time—it wasn’t quiet and gentle like when He scratches behind my ears.
This time… it was fire.
Next thing I know, tables are turning over.
Coins scattering like dry leaves in the wind.
Folks jumping back, eyes wide open.
My tail tucked just a bit—not out of fear of Him, but because I could feel the weight of it.
This wasn’t anger like we dogs get when cats invade the yard.
This was holy.
“And He said to them, ‘It is written, My house will be called a house of prayer. But you are making it a den of thieves!’” - Matthew 21:13 HCSB
Now I may just be a dog, but even I know what a house is for.
My house?
That’s where I rest.
Where I’m safe.
Where I’m fed.
Where I sit close to my human.
And it got me thinking…
What if my heart’s supposed to be like that temple?
What if it isn’t meant for clutter and noise and selfish grabbing?
What if it’s supposed to be quiet enough to hear Him call my name?
Sometimes I let things pile up in there—old bones of worry, scraps of pride, bits of things I don’t need.
And before long, it starts sounding like that temple, the merchants and the money-changers… busy, loud and crowded.
But my Master… He loves me too much to leave me that way.
So every now and then, He comes in… and turns over a few tables.
It isn’t always comfortable.
Truth be told, I’d rather He just pat my head and let me be.
But when He starts cleaning house, it’s because He’s making room for something better.
Room for peace.
Room for prayer.
Room for hope.
Room for Him.
And I’ve learned this lying at His feet…
When my Master turns tables…
He isn’t tearing down my house.
He’s making it right.
Here’s the truth:
If there’s noise in your heart today, don’t be afraid when Jesus starts rearranging things.
He’s not against you—He’s for you. He’s making your heart a place where He can dwell.
Back then it was the temple He was cleansing.
Today… your heart is that temple.
And He might just be ready to start turning tables.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
