“You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:6-8)

If you know me, you know that I’m not much of an animal lover. Although I had many different pets growing up, most of them didn’t last very long. Since we lived by a busy street, I had several pet dogs that were hit by cars. I also had cats that ran away, and even a pet chicken that lasted just one hour before it mysteriously died of a heart attack. Needless to say, I quickly learned not to get emotionally attached to animals. Imagine my reluctance, then, when less than one year into my new marriage to my awesome wife—who happens to be an ardent animal lover—I was asked by her if we could get a pet dog.

Now, usually, in my younger years, my answer to a request like this would have been an emphatic “No.” But since I was really working on being a good husband who practices 1 Peter 3:7—“Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives… so that nothing will hinder your prayers”—I decided on a compromise. I asked Kelly if we could wait until we finished building our new house, which was in the middle of construction, before acquiring a pet. She graciously and enthusiastically agreed, and that was the end of that… at least for the moment.

About a year later, we finished building our house. I had completely forgotten about our earlier conversation about getting a dog—which I had hoped Kelly would forget as well. Perhaps I underestimated her, because she certainly did not forget. Shortly after the completion of our house, she quickly reminded me: “Do you remember our conversation about the dog?” Her words jogged my memory, and I remembered our deal—but I was still feeling pretty reluctant about it. Things had changed. Kelly and I were now in the ministry and had taken on a lot of extra responsibility. “Would it really be wise to own a dog?” I reasoned.

Kelly returned the consideration I had initially extended to her. She said, “How about we make a new deal? What if I go to the animal shelter and look for a rescue dog? If I don’t find a good dog in one visit, I’ll just surrender—it’s not God’s will for me to own a dog right now.” (She’s so spiritual!)

I agreed to her deal, and honestly, I thought there was a pretty low chance that she would find a “good dog” in just one visit. So—problem solved!

Just days later, as we were working in our house, Kelly noticed through the window astray puppy wandering onto our property. Before you go, “Awwwwww,” please know: this was not a cute puppy. It had clearly been neglected, mistreated, and ultimately abandoned. This was obvious by the fact that it was literally covered from head to toe in fleas and ticks. In fact, the puppy actually had lighter-coloured fur, but you would’ve thought it was dark because of the sheer number of black bugs crawling on her.

Moments later, the puppy defecated. That’s when we realized the infestation wasn’t just external—it was internal as well. Her feces were moving, filled with parasites and worms. It became clear this poor animal had wandered away from wherever home was just to find a peaceful place to die.

I’m sure the disgust I felt was written all over my face as my wife tended to the dog. But that didn’t stop her from uttering the next four unexpected words that would determine the fate of that powerless puppy. She looked at me and said, in a slow and gentle tone, “Can we keep it?”

“No, babe!” I replied. “That thing needs to go find a place to die. Leave it alone! And please stop touching it!” I thought my logic was sound and would cut through the irrational emotion Kelly was clearly experiencing.

Wrong.

Her heart was full of compassion for the unwanted puppy. She couldn’t just let it die without trying to help—despite my pleas for a more “reasonable” course of action. We were at a stalemate.

Kelly, seeing that I was equally passionate about my position, decided to once more use her powers of diplomacy. She said, “Let’s make another deal.” Curious, I leaned into the negotiation.

She continued, “What if I take this dog to the animal shelter and see if they can help her? If they can get rid of all the fleas, ticks, parasites, and worms—and keep her alive—I’ll keep her. But if they can’t do anything for her, that’ll be my one trip to the animal shelter, and I’ll know that God doesn’t want me to have a dog at the moment.”

I took one look at the condition of the miserable pup and quickly agreed. Problem solved again!

The little puppy was wrapped in a blanket, seemingly clinging to her last moments of what had been a miserable existence. Kelly drove her to the animal shelter and presented her to the caretaker to see if he could help. He briefly looked at the feeble canine and said the only thing they could do for a dog this far gone was to put her out of her misery.

This was not the response Kelly had hoped for. She immediately burst into tears, grief-stricken that this poor puppy’s road had quite possibly come to an end.

Despondent, Kelly wrapped the dog back up and proceeded to leave the shelter. Just then, she ran into another caretaker who saw the anguish on her face. She asked what was going on, and Kelly explained everything. Moved by her story, the caretaker offered to help the dog—even though she admitted it was against shelter policy. She took the puppy, kept her overnight, cleaned off all the bugs on the outside, and gave her a shot to deworm her—cleansing the inside too.

Although weakened by the ordeal, the puppy survived. Kelly brought her home and slowly nursed her back to health. Before long, she was at full strength. And so she became our very first dog!

What did we name her? Well, I was given the honour. (Don’t ask me why!) So—being the smart aleck I can sometimes be—I named her “Name” (pronounced nah-meh)!

Why do I share this true story on Easter weekend? Because you and I are that dog. We didn’t wander into church as cute little puppies—easy to adopt and love. We were the dirty dogs, riddled with parasites, fleas, and ticks—disgusting on the outside, and even worse on the inside. We had no hope. We had no power. Logically speaking, we should have been left to die in our sin. But metaphorically speaking, Jesus, much like my loving wife on that fateful day, looked at God with compassion in His eyes and said those same four words, “Can we keep it?”

It was not my intention to name our dog “Name” for this reason, but given that her story is our story—and because “at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for [you]”—you can now read this story again. But this time, please insert your name here. To God be the glory!

Evan Bartholomew