“Now the serpent was the most cunning of all the wild animals that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You can’t eat from any tree in the garden’?””
- Genesis 3:1 HCSB
I’m just a dog, but I know a voice when I hear one.
There’s my human’s voice—steady, kind, clear.
It tells me where to walk, when to stop, what’s good for me even when I don’t understand it.
I trust that voice.
I follow it.
Life is better that way.
But then… there’s that other voice.
It slithers in low and slow, like something in the grass I can’t quite see.
It doesn’t bark commands—
It whispers hisses disguised as questions.
“Did He really say…?”
Now, I’ve noticed something.
The snake never starts with a bite.
It starts with a doubt.
I’ve seen it happen.
One minute, everything is simple—stay close, obey, trust.
The next minute, the question comes, curling around the truth, squeezing it just enough to make it sound different.
“Maybe God is holding out on you.”
“Maybe you deserve more.”
“Maybe one little bite won’t hurt.”
According to what my human has read out loud, that’s how it was in the garden.
An apple hanging where it shouldn’t be touched.
A command clearly given.
And a snake… twisting words like a chewed-up rope.
And here’s what I don’t understand—why listen to the snake when you’ve walked with the Master?
But I guess I do understand, in my own way.
Sometimes I smell something I shouldn’t chase.
Sometimes I hear a noise and forget the command to stay.
And in that moment, I’m not thinking about trust—I’m thinking about me.
That’s where the snake does its best work.
He doesn’t make wrong look wrong.
He makes it look reasonable.
Desirable.
Even right.
He takes God’s words and bends them just enough to make you question instead of obey.
Just enough to make you pause instead of follow.
But I’ve learned something from staying close to my Master’s feet:
The closer I stay, the more clear His voice becomes.
And the more clear His voice becomes, the easier it is to recognize the snake.
Because the Master never confuses me.
He never twists.
He never whispers doubt into truth.
So when I hear that slithering question
“Did He really say…?”
I don’t stop to think too long.
I run back to the voice I trust.
Maybe that’s the lesson for you, too.
Don’t argue with the snake.
Don’t study the apple.
Stay close to the Master.
Because what He said… He meant.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
