The other morning my human sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and that worn-out Bible that smells a little like an old baseball glove and grace.
I was laying beside him doing what dogs do best… guarding the porch from cats, leaves, and suspicious-looking butterflies while he read out loud:
“He has shown you, O man, what is good;
And what does the Lord require of you
But to do justly,
To love mercy,
And to walk humbly with your God?”
- Micah 6:8 NKJV
Now I tilted my head at that one. Mostly because when my human says “walk,” I assume I’m involved.
He scratched behind my ears and said, “Buddy, God didn’t make it complicated. He told us what He requires.”
Requires?
That sounds serious.
Around our house “required” usually means things like:
Don’t chew shoes.
Don’t steal sausage biscuits off the counter.
Don’t roll in things that make everyone else gag.
Apparently God has requirements too.
I thought about that all morning while following my human around the yard.
And honestly?
Micah 6:8 sounds a lot more simple than humans make faith sometimes.
“Do justly.”
That means doing what’s right.
Even when nobody’s watching.
Even when it costs something.
I may not understand taxes or politics or why the vacuum cleaner is still allowed indoors, but I know fairness.
When one dog gets a treat, the other dog expects one too.
Justice matters.
“Love mercy (or kindness).”
Now this one I understand.
Kindness is tail wags at the door.
Kindness is sitting beside someone hurting.
Kindness is staying close when tears fall.
Kindness is loving people on their bad days too.
My human has shown me mercy and kindness plenty of times. Especially after muddy paws, chewed socks, and that unfortunate squirrel incident in the living room.
He could fuss harder.
Could stay mad longer.
But instead, he forgives me, rubs my head, and says, “Buddy, you’re an absolute mess.”
Seems to me Christians ought to be known for that kind of kindness and mercy too.
Then there’s the last part:
“Walk humbly with your God.”
That’s the big one.
My human says humble people know who’s leading the walk.
Every evening when we head down the road, I’ve got a leash attached to my collar.
Sometimes I want to dart toward a squirrel or investigate a smell that’s been there since long before me.
But my human gently pulls me back.
Maybe walking humbly with God means trusting the One holding the leash.
Not pretending we know better… just staying close.
Before going inside, my human smiled and said, “Buddy boy, following Jesus isn’t about showing off religion. It’s about living what we say we believe.”
I think Micah 6:8 is like an old dog trail through the woods.
Clear.
Simple.
Easy to follow if you’ll stay near the Master.
That sounds less complicated than humans make it sometimes.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
