The Rescue That Took Its Time
Psalm 9:10 – Those who know your name trust in you, for you, O Lord, do not abandon those who search for you.
I didn’t know Lori. I still don’t, really, but for months, I watched her from my car as I drove through downtown Monroe.
She was always in the same spot, under the same shade tree near Warehouse No. 1. Beside her lay the same black dog, curled low to the ground, like the world had already taught her too much.
Later, I learned what had happened to that dog—and why Lori loved her the way she did. She’d been dumped by her owners. Left behind. And she ran after them. That detail stays with you.
The heartbreak lingered. The dog would approach people just long enough to sniff, then bolt the second a hand reached out. Too many broken promises. Too much fear. People tried to catch her. No one could.
Then there was Lori.
Day after day, she showed up under that tree. She brought water. Food. Blankets. Whatever might help the dog feel safe. At first, she sat far away. Over time, as trust grew, she moved closer. Eventually, she could touch her.
Every single day. For months.
I imagine that dog was learning how to love again.
One day, she finally climbed into Lori’s car. Off to the vet they went. Needs were met. Supporters stepped in. And the dog once known as “the black warehouse dog” was given a new name—Queenie.
She sleeps in a warm bed now. Surrounded by people who adore her. She will never again wonder if she’s good enough. The ones who left her behind have no idea what a treasure they abandoned.
And I can’t watch Queenie’s story without seeing my own.
I know what it’s like to keep God at arm’s length. Close enough to test Him. Not close enough to trust Him. I know what it’s like to hesitate, to pull back, to need time, and I know how patient my Heavenly Father has been. He stays near, unoffended by my fear, unwilling to walk away.
What stuck with me wasn’t the rescue. It was the waiting.
Lori never chased the dog. Never cornered her. Never demanded trust she wasn’t ready to give. She stayed close enough to be present, far enough to be safe. Love didn’t raise its voice. It proved itself by returning.
That kind of love changes things. Slowly. Steadily. Until fear loosens its grip and trust finds room to breathe.
I’ve seen that same patience in my own life—not in dramatic moments, but in ordinary ones. In the seasons I hesitated. In the days I didn’t have much faith to offer. And still, God stayed near. Not hurried. Not offended. Not gone.
Scripture names that kind of faithfulness plainly: “Those who know Your name trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You” (Psalm 9:10).
That verse isn’t a challenge. It’s a reassurance. A reminder that God doesn’t confuse slowness with rejection. He doesn’t abandon the cautious or the wounded. He remains present long before trust ever feels easy.
And maybe that’s where this story is supposed to end—not with a command, but with permission. Permission to believe that God’s nearness isn’t fragile. That His love doesn’t depend on how quickly we respond. That even now, He is still right where He’s always been—close, steady, and willing to wait.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
- Are there places in your life where you’ve been keeping God at a safe distance rather than fully trusting Him?
- What past experiences might be influencing how easily—or cautiously—you trust God now?
- How have you seen God remain present and patient with you, even in seasons when your faith felt small or hesitant?
- What does it mean to you that God does not confuse slowness with rejection or fear with disobedience?
- How does knowing that God is willing to wait for your trust change the way you approach Him today?
