A Lesson in Obedience (From a Labrador and Leviticus)

Black and white photo of a Labrador puppy named Sadie sleeping on a pair of slippers, capturing a rare moment of peace after a day of chaos and puppy energy.

Day 49

Leviticus 8-9 | Romans 11:25-12:8 | Psalm 21

Tonight, after Talacey went to bed (she’s the early bird; Sophia and I are the night owls), Sophia and I watched Marley & Me. She picked it. Because of Sadie.

Which, by the way, when Sadie is awake, she is a handful. But when she is asleep—like right now, curled up on her little puppy bed—she is the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen.

I say that now, but before I sat down to write this, I spent 30 minutes outside telling her “no” to the 1,000 things she tried to chew.

She has an entire bin of actual dog toys, but do you think she wants those? No. She wants sprinkler heads, electrical cords, the caster on the Blackstone, the leather straps on my Rainbow flip flops—while I’m wearing them.

So as Sophia and I watched Marley & Me, we were dying laughing. Because it is our life. Almost verbatim. The only thing missing was Owen Wilson narrating my exhaustion in that same dry, sarcastic tone he uses in the movie.

And then, I opened my Bible to Leviticus 8-9.

What Leviticus and Labradors Have in Common

The chapters detail Aaron and his sons being consecrated as priests. A sacred, holy moment where God gives very specific instructions for how they are to serve, how sacrifices should be made, and how the fire on the altar must never go out.

And Aaron obeys. Exactly as the Lord commanded.

But here’s the kicker: obedience isn’t natural. Not for us. Not for Labradors.

Sadie wants to do literally anything but obey. If she can chew it, chase it, jump on it, or drag it through the house, she will. Her instincts lead her in the complete opposite direction of what I’m asking her to do.

And isn’t that exactly what we do with God?

When We Want to Do Anything But Obey

Romans 12:1-2 calls us to be a living sacrifice—to present our whole selves as an offering to God, holy and acceptable.

But my natural instinct?

To chew the metaphorical electrical cord. To resist. To chase after what isn’t good for me. To live for my own desires, rather than offering my whole life in worship.

Yet Paul urges us:

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

Sacrifice isn’t just about what we bring to the altar. It’s about how we live.

Aaron obeyed God’s instructions in every detail.

The priests kept the fire burning on the altar—always.

Paul tells us to be a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable.

And yet, here I am, still chewing through the boundaries He set for my good.

But Here’s the Good News

Psalm 21:6 says, “For you make him most blessed forever; you make him glad with the joy of your presence.”

Even in my disobedience, even in my stubbornness, God is still faithful.

Sadie is still my dog, even though she ignores me 90% of the time.

And I am still God’s child, even though I fail to obey far more often than I’d like to admit.

Yet He is patient.

He is merciful.

And He is faithful to transform me—not just in how I give, serve, and sacrifice, but in my very nature.

Lord, teach me to obey. Not out of obligation, but out of love. Help me lay down my resistance and surrender my whole self—not just in what I give, but in how I trust. Amen.


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