sat on and sadly watch as Meaghan put her bags by the front door. When Meaghan tried to say good-bye, Max would turn away. He couldn’t look at her. Meaghan finally had to take Max’s face in her hands to give him a hug and a kiss. A few minutes later, Meaghan’s mom would call to tell her that as soon as she left, Max broke from his perch and rushed to the window to watch her drive off. He’d stay at that window, staring out, long after the car was gone. Did he feel abandoned? Was he anxious and fearful that she might never return? Or was he simply blue because he knew she’d be away for many a moon?
We can’t be sure what dogs are thinking, but we know what people think. We’ve all felt sad when a loved one was going away for a long time, whether it was off to college a few hours from home or a job transfer to the far side of the world. The first time my wife and I dropped our three-year-old son off at preschool, we saw a look of disorientation, then tears trickling down his face as we “abandoned” him to strangers. We knew he felt unsure if we would ever come back to get him. Or if we did return, would it be weeks, months, even years? However, when we did return for him that afternoon and every subsequent day he was dropped off, he began to gain confidence we would come back soon—just as Max felt comfortable that Meaghan would come back soon from a short errand or a day in high school. Both my son and Max were building a certain spiritual muscle necessary to believe that the one leaving would return. The stronger the muscle, the stronger the belief. This muscle is called faith.
It takes faith to believe in something you cannot see. When Max was peering out the window with that sad look on his face, it was impossible to test the strength of his faith. When Meaghan was going to be away a long time, was Max a dog of little or much faith? Was he wondering if she’d ever come back or did he strongly expect her return? It’s open to speculation.
An interesting spin on believing or not believing in what you can’t see is the concept of object permanence, a term coined by famous developmental psychologist Jean Piaget. Object permanence is a form of faith that develops in infants between eight and nine months of age. Before this time, most babies perceive the world in “out of sight, out of mind” terms. That is, if Mommy or Daddy leaves the room, the three-month-old has no idea if they still exist or if they’re ever coming back. In the game of peekaboo, first you’re there, then you hide behind a blankie and you’re gone! Just as Baby gets anxious, you whip the blankie away and Baby giggles with delight that you’re back from limbo.
Object permanence is that developmental milestone which makes a child no longer “fun” to play peekaboo with—when they believe that a person or object still exists even though that person or thing can’t be seen. Or to say it another way, their faith muscle has grown strong enough to hold on to the reality of Mom or Dad even though they’re not in the same room.
Faith in Jesus is a developmental milestone for those who profess to be Christians—or as some call themselves, believers. Christians are people with strong enough faith muscles to believe in Jesus even though He’s not in the same room or even on the same physical planet. And as if that’s not enough heavy lifting to strain our faith muscles, we also must believe in the Son of God even though we’ve never actually seen or touched Him.
At least Max actually got a kiss from Meaghan before she vanished off to college. And how crazy would it be to expect Baby to believe in Mommy and Daddy if Baby had never actually seen or touched them?
But that is exactly what we believers are called to do: have faith muscles of the buffest kind. We must be the spiritual counterparts of those big grunting Olympic power lifters. We need more faith than a Yorkie waiting for its master’s return from college. More faith than a
We can’t be sure what dogs are thinking, but we know what people think. We’ve all felt sad when a loved one was going away for a long time, whether it was off to college a few hours from home or a job transfer to the far side of the world. The first time my wife and I dropped our three-year-old son off at preschool, we saw a look of disorientation, then tears trickling down his face as we “abandoned” him to strangers. We knew he felt unsure if we would ever come back to get him. Or if we did return, would it be weeks, months, even years? However, when we did return for him that afternoon and every subsequent day he was dropped off, he began to gain confidence we would come back soon—just as Max felt comfortable that Meaghan would come back soon from a short errand or a day in high school. Both my son and Max were building a certain spiritual muscle necessary to believe that the one leaving would return. The stronger the muscle, the stronger the belief. This muscle is called faith.
It takes faith to believe in something you cannot see. When Max was peering out the window with that sad look on his face, it was impossible to test the strength of his faith. When Meaghan was going to be away a long time, was Max a dog of little or much faith? Was he wondering if she’d ever come back or did he strongly expect her return? It’s open to speculation.
An interesting spin on believing or not believing in what you can’t see is the concept of object permanence, a term coined by famous developmental psychologist Jean Piaget. Object permanence is a form of faith that develops in infants between eight and nine months of age. Before this time, most babies perceive the world in “out of sight, out of mind” terms. That is, if Mommy or Daddy leaves the room, the three-month-old has no idea if they still exist or if they’re ever coming back. In the game of peekaboo, first you’re there, then you hide behind a blankie and you’re gone! Just as Baby gets anxious, you whip the blankie away and Baby giggles with delight that you’re back from limbo.
Object permanence is that developmental milestone which makes a child no longer “fun” to play peekaboo with—when they believe that a person or object still exists even though that person or thing can’t be seen. Or to say it another way, their faith muscle has grown strong enough to hold on to the reality of Mom or Dad even though they’re not in the same room.
Faith in Jesus is a developmental milestone for those who profess to be Christians—or as some call themselves, believers. Christians are people with strong enough faith muscles to believe in Jesus even though He’s not in the same room or even on the same physical planet. And as if that’s not enough heavy lifting to strain our faith muscles, we also must believe in the Son of God even though we’ve never actually seen or touched Him.
At least Max actually got a kiss from Meaghan before she vanished off to college. And how crazy would it be to expect Baby to believe in Mommy and Daddy if Baby had never actually seen or touched them?
But that is exactly what we believers are called to do: have faith muscles of the buffest kind. We must be the spiritual counterparts of those big grunting Olympic power lifters. We need more faith than a Yorkie waiting for its master’s return from college. More faith than a
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