On Raising Moxie
When we found her, she had squeezed her small body under a pile of garbage. Her head was shoved in a broken piece of plywood. Later, we found out she does this because she thinks no one will find her if her head is hidden. Carefully lifting her from the heap, we carried her home followed by a swarm of children doing their best to tell us the broken pieces of her story.
It’s a sad and confusing life story, so I can only imagine how it wrecked this little one’s heart. Without another option, we brought her inside, gave her food, and watched as she cowered in the corner, covering her head. A few days went by and it became increasingly apparent, we were adding another puppy to our perfectly content family of three.
It’s been a few weeks since that first scary night. Each day we see tiny glimpses of progress and hope. Every time her ears twitch when we say her name, my eyes fill with proud tears. The day she licked my hand, I lost it.
Totally lost it.
As we watch Moxie grow and make little daily progress, we cheer (very quietly, of course) and celebrate each small step. Yet while there is expectant joy, there is also this sense of sadness, knowing that she is missing out on being who she was meant to be: a playful puppy pouncing from chewing up one thing to the next. She’s missing out on parts of her life (belly rubs, yummy treats, catching balls, chewing shoes) because she does not yet understand who she can be. Her pain overlooks the love, protection, grace, and healing that are being offered daily. Her scars from her past define her still.
With all the expectant hope we could muster, we decided to name her Moxie which means “determined courage.” While she is still petrified, we are praying over her words of courage, determination, and strength. And I know that one day, when she finally feels ready to let go of her hurt and trust herself and others, we’re going to find ourselves saying, “You’ve got a lot of moxie there, pup!”
As we watch her grow, we have often remarked on how similar this situation is to God’s unconditional love for humankind. We are so broken and unaware of our need of a rescuer. A Rescuer who understands our fears, yet sees us no matter how well we think we’re hidden. A God who coos, nudges, comforts, and gives us space to sort ourselves out, all the while calling us by a new name we don’t yet recognize, “Redeemed.”
God has given each one of us new identities, new names in Christ Jesus. We are adopted as sons and daughters. We are considered holy saints. We are the movers and shakers of the gospel here on earth. We are deemed Beloved. Purposed. Redeemed. Good.
Oh sure, many of us have come to accept that God is a redeemer. Many of us too have said the prayer, done the baptism thing, and accepted the grace and forgiveness of Christ. But living into that name in our daily lives, clothing ourselves in the identity of Christ as the Bible would say, is a much harder task.
How many times do we miss out on living the honest and thriving lives God envisioned for us in exchange for lives marked by fear?
Fear which holds us back from living authentically, pursuing community, and claiming our purpose. Fear that causes us to miss out on living the lives unto which we were called.
We cannot live in fear of this world while pursuing a God who already conquered it.
We cannot have two identities. We are either afraid or courageous. We are hiding or pursuing. We are condemned or redeemed.
It is our choice to breath in the name God has given us. We have been called out of hiding and into a redemption story where we have a part to play. Our lives are meant to share the gospel of Christ with this world, to be a light in the darkness, and a force in a place of despair. Oh, what a shame to live an entire life and miss out on that?!
