Reverend Marco Ste-Marie

Two friends loved to go hunting together. One seemed to have a naturally positive outlook on life, while the other could find something wrong with almost anything.

One day, the first man arrived with an extraordinary new bird dog—a dog that could walk on water.

A duck fell onto the lake. Without hesitation, the dog stepped onto the surface of the water, walked calmly across it, retrieved the duck, and returned. The positive friend waited for a reaction. Nothing.

It happened again. And then a third time.

Finally, unable to contain himself, he asked, “Haven’t you noticed anything unusual about my new dog?”

His friend frowned and replied, “I certainly have. Your dog can’t swim.”

It is a funny story, but perhaps it reveals something surprisingly profound about us.

What we see often depends not only on what is happening around us, but on the spirit with which we look at life.

We can become remarkably skilled at noticing what has not been done, what should have happened, what somebody else failed to notice, or how our neighbours, workplace, community, or church could be better. Sometimes those observations are entirely legitimate. There are problems that need naming, injustices that need confronting, and situations that genuinely need to change.

But there is a difference between recognizing a problem and becoming absorbed by everything that is wrong.

Sometimes continually pointing out what is missing can even give us the feeling that we are accomplishing something. It creates movement without necessarily creating change. It can be a little like sitting in a rocking chair: there is plenty of motion, but we never actually travel anywhere.

And attitudes spread.

One person’s disappointment can slowly shape an entire room. But so can hope. Enthusiasm can awaken imagination. Gratitude can help people see resources they had forgotten were there. Encouragement can give someone the courage to try again.

Paul offers the simple invitation: “Rejoice with those who rejoice.” There is deep wisdom in that. It means learning to recognize goodness without immediately searching for its flaw. It means allowing another person’s joy to become part of our own. It means developing eyes that can notice grace.

Jesus never taught people to ignore what was difficult. He simply refused to believe that the difficulty had to have the final word.

When Peter had spent the night fishing and caught nothing, Jesus did not spend his time analyzing everything Peter had done wrong. He invited him to try again: “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets.”

Try another place.

Try another way.

Imagine another possibility.

And Peter experienced the catch of a lifetime.

Perhaps this is one of the spiritual questions worth carrying with us: when we encounter something that is not working, is our first instinct to ask, “Why hasn’t somebody fixed this?” Or might we begin asking, “What can I do? What could we try together? What possibility have we not yet considered?”

Faith does not ask us to pretend everything is wonderful. Faith invites us to believe that what we see right now may not be everything there is to see.

So listen to one another. Notice what is good. Name what needs changing, but do not stop there. Look for possibilities. Encourage the people who are trying. Become part of the solution you hope to see.

And every once in a while, when a dog walks across the water, allow yourself to be amazed.