Years ago, we had a dog. I’ve always loved animals, and dogs particularly, and this was a special dog. She wasn’t our first pet as a family—the first one was sort of a trial-run dog—but she was the one that lasted the longest. Her name was Gracie—Gracie, the Gospel-Dog. With a name like Gracie, the Gospel-Dog, there has to be a story behind it, and there is.

About 15 years ago,

we decided on the spur of the moment to go up to the north Georgia mountains to the Apple Festival in Ellijay. So we got the kids together, threw a few things in the minivan, and took off. The kids were little: Virginia was in second-grade, and Buddy was in pre-school. So after an hour and a half of driving (I’m sure we sedated them with books on tape, or something like that), we got to Ellijay. I’m not sure we knew what to expect; we were just looking to get out and do something on a beautiful fall Saturday. And there were all of the requisite fall-festival activities: pony rides, face painting, food (lots of food), and booths from all kinds of vendors. All up and down the streets leading into the town square were tables and tents full of wood carvings, bird houses, kitchen magnets, quilts, clothes, plaques with funny quotes (“If life gives you lemons, keep them, because, hey . . . free lemons!”), and all manner of arts-and-crafts thingies that you don’t really need, but might make a good gift or could certainly be a great white-elephant-party gift next Christmas. Well, we got to the center of town and the Humane Society had set up an area with all kinds of dogs and cats in crates and little make-shift pens. It was great. The kids loved it. I loved it.

Well, we played with the dogs and cats for a while and then I walked over and spoke to one of the ladies who was working there. I had always loved Basset Hounds—still do; we have two now—and wanted to know if they ever ran across any Bassets that needed a good home. Now I wasn’t really serious; I was just curious, sort of like when you browse in a car lot asking questions of the salesman, knowing full well that you’re not going to buy. You’re just browsing. I mean, we already had a dog, Lucy the lab. Lucy was a good dog, I’m sure. But to be honest, she wasn’t a good dog for us. We just didn’t know it yet. She was a typical lab, full of life and energy. And she was big. She was taller than Buddy, and in her love of life, her tail would literally (not figuratively literally, but literally literally) knock the poor boy down. So Kim and I thought that maybe if she had a companion, she could get her energy out and wouldn’t be so difficult for the kids.

So, Kim and I had talked about getting another dog, but it certainly wasn’t a decision. It was like, “Maybe if we got Lucy a dog to play with, the kids could actually go out in the backyard and not get knocked over.” “Yeah, you might be right. We’ll see.” Notice that last phrase. It is the all-important, “We’ll see.” Everyone knows what “We’ll see” means. It is really just a way of putting off the inevitable, and likely correct, “No.” As God would have it, however, the lady said that a stray Basset Hound had just recently wandered up in her yard. She had put up notices all around town, but nobody claimed the dog. She told us where she lived and said that if we wanted the dog, we could have her. So as we finished our day at the Apple Festival—come to think of it, I don’t think we actually bought a bag of apples—I said, “Let’s just go look at that Basset Hound.” Kim said, “We’re not getting another dog. We can’t handle the one we have.” And she kept saying it all the way as we drove to the house. Then, as we pulled into the driveway, Kim laid eyes on that animal and she said, “Awwww, look at her. We have to have that dog!” And now, suddenly, I didn’t know if I wanted the dog! But now I was committed. So after the four of us petted her and played with her a bit, we made the arrangements with the lady and took her home.

Then the lady said this. “Oh, did I mention to you that she is pregnant?” No, as a matter of fact, you didn’t. And that would have been a helpful bit of information to have had prior to making this life-altering decision!

So now we are coming home from the Apple Festival with no apples, but with a pregnant, stinky (did I mention that she had an incredible odor?) Basset Hound in our minivan. Then we began to discover all other manner of problems with this poor dog. She was full of fleas, and now the van was full of fleas. She stank (have I mentioned that yet?), parts of both ears were chewed up, and her tail had been bobbed off.

Completely unconcerned about all of that, one of the kids said, “What are we going to name her?” So we tossed around some names, but finally I said, “I think we should name her Gracie, because she reminds me of the grace of God.” And she did; here’s why.

Gracie had lived a hard life. She had made some bad decisions. She had gotten herself into some trouble. She had sinned; she had had relations with a dog that wasn’t her husband (work with me). And she was paying the price of her life on the street and her poor choices. Her tail and her ears would never be the same. She was homeless and pregnant and needed a bath. And yet we took her in. We didn’t care that she was pregnant (now, in reality, later we would care quite a bit, but that’s another story). We didn’t care that she was full of fleas. We didn’t care that she was a mess and that she would require a lot of work just to get her to the point that we could live with her and enjoy her. In fact, Gracie was going to cost us—not only the normal care and feeding of a pet, but we had to figure out what to do with her puppies. She had nothing to offer and required everything of us.

And that’s us, and that’s the grace of God. We have nothing to offer and require everything to be done for us. We have made, and continue to make, poor choices, but that doesn’t dissuade God. We have lived, and continue to live, a life of sin, but that doesn’t defeat His plan. The state of our past and the reality of our present don’t prevent God from taking us in and cleaning us up and getting rid of our fleas. He commits to taking care of the mess that we have made of ourselves, even at a cost to Himself. Far from being a hindrance to the grace of God, our sins and our struggles and our failures are actually the reason for the grace of God in our lives.

For years to follow, every time I looked at that bobbed off tail and those chewed up ears, I was reminded of the mess that I make of myself and the commitment of God’s grace toward me—nothing to offer and in need of everything. You see, the grace of God is all about what God does for us, not what we can do for him. And that’s why we named her Gracie, the Gospel-Dog.