Before You Say A Word

Can I Pet That Dog

I saw something several weeks ago that caught my attention. Just an ordinary moment. A man standing in his yard. He looked like he had just gotten off work—clothes dirty, shoulders a little heavy, the kind of tired you don’t just shake off. The kind you carry. And before he did anything else…he bent down and started petting his dog. And I don’t know how to explain it—but everything changed in that moment. The man smiled. The dog lit up like it was the best moment of its entire day. No words. No expectations. No explanations. Just… presence.

And I found myself thinking about those videos you see sometimes—where a child’s voice says, “Can I pet that dog?” I started thinking about that question, a seemingly innocent childlike question but then after seeing this moment I realized that there may be more be to that question, isn’t there? The question from the way that I see it now really isn’t about the dog. It’s about connection. It’s about joy. It’s about wanting to be close to something that feels safe. And as I watched that man… I couldn’t shake the thought: Isn’t that what we’re all looking for? I couldn’t let it go. Later that night I told my wife about what I saw, I just wanted someone else to hear it, to picture that moment I guess. That one image caught at 60mph seemed like it took forever, time slowed down as I began to try and figure out what I saw. What I saw is all of us here in this room, we’ve all been there, stooped over, weighed down by life, fighting our own personal battles and we don’t know what to do. We find ourselves wandering through life seeking some kind of relief from the problems we carry, we’ve all been this guy. He found a piece of happiness in an unlikely place, maybe in an unlikely form.

If we’re honest…most of us don’t walk into our lives feeling light. We walk in tired. Carrying things. Holding conversations in our heads we haven’t had out loud. Dragging guilt, regret, pressure, expectations. And the truth is—we’ve gotten really good at pretending we’re okay. We know how to smile. We know how to say, “I’m doing fine.”, “ I’m good”. We know how to show up looking like we’ve got it together. But inside? Inside is a different story.

And here’s what hit me about that moment in the yard: That man didn’t have to explain anything. He didn’t have to say, “It was a rough day.” He didn’t have to justify why he was tired. He didn’t have to clean himself up first. He just showed up……and he was received with nothing but love and pure joy. Now listen to what Scripture says. In Psalm 139, verses 1 through 4: “O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.” Before you say a word…He already knows. But for some reason we try and hide ourselves from God. Maybe we believe if we post enough “God is good!” quotes on Facebook then we are saved, or if we come to church on occasion then our sins are forgiven but that isn’t how it works. We have spent our entire lives trying to hide and this has been going on since the beginning of time with Adam and Eve hiding from God after they messed up and sinned against God.

Before you explain…He already understands. Before you try to clean yourself up…He has already seen it all. And here’s the part we struggle to believe: He still wants you. Some of us have been living like we have to prepare ourselves before we come to God. Like we’ve got to get our act together first. Like we need to fix some things, clean some things up, get a little more consistent, a little more disciplined, a little less messy. Then… we’ll come to Him.

But Psalm 139 doesn’t leave room for that kind of thinking. Because it says God already knows. Not the version of you you present. Not the version of you that you post. Not the version of you you bring to church. He knows the real you. The tired you. The frustrated you. The doubting you. The one who messed up this week. The one who said something you wish you could take back. The one who keeps struggling with the same thing over and over again. He knows. And He’s not backing away.

Let me say it like this: You don’t have to rehearse your story before you come home to God. You don’t have to walk in with the right words. You don’t have to explain why you’re tired. You don’t have to justify where you’ve been. You just come. But here’s where this hits even deeper. Because for a lot of people…the reason we struggle to come to God like that…is because that’s not how most relationships work. Most relationships are conditional. You perform… you’re accepted. You fail… things get distant. You mess up… you feel it. So we assume God must work the same way. But Scripture says something different.

In Romans 5:8: “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Not when you got it right. Not when you figured it out. Not when you cleaned it up. While you were still in it… He moved toward you. And some of us need to hear this today: God is not waiting on a better version of you. He’s not standing at a distance saying, “Come back when you’ve got it together.” He’s not asking you to perform. He’s inviting you to come home. Go back to that image for a moment. That man… standing in his yard. Tired. Worn out. And that dog didn’t step back and say, “Where have you been?” “Why do you look like that?” “What did you do today?” No. It just moved toward him. Full of joy. Full of welcome. And I know—it’s just a simple moment. But what if it’s pointing to something bigger? What if every longing we have to be known…to be accepted…to be received without explanation…is actually pointing us to God?

Because here’s the truth: We don’t just need a break… we need a place to belong. And that place is not found in pretending. It’s found in being known—and still loved. Some of you walked in today carrying things you haven’t told anybody. Some of you are tired in ways that sleep won’t fix. Some of you feel like you’ve let God down. Like Peter did. And you’re not even sure what you would say if you tried to come back. Hear this: Before you say a word…He already knows. And He’s not pushing you away. He’s inviting you closer. So maybe the most honest prayer you can pray today isn’t polished. Maybe it’s not long. Maybe it’s not impressive. Maybe it’s just this: “God… here I am.” No script. No performance. No pretending. Just presence. Because the good news of the Gospel is not that you finally got it right. The good news is this: You are fully known… and still fully loved. And maybe today…it’s time to come home. Not when you’ve figured everything out. Not when you’ve cleaned everything up. Not when you’ve got the right words. But right now. Just as you are. Because before you say a word…He already knows. And He’s still waiting for you.