In the Shops at Willow Bend, near the food court, there’s a store for dogs. They don’t sell dogs, but stuff for dogs–like sweaters and shoes for dogs. I have an impossible time with this. I’m not an anti-dog guy. Lassie’s great. I find it impossible to chew on the reality that little Bootsey has a sweater, and some of the kids in our deal in Guatemala don’t have shoes.

I find it impossible to chew on that we as Americans spend on average two to three thousands of dollars a year on dogs, when such a large number of the world’s children are starving and unclothed. So, I have a time, man. I have a hard time with your dog having clothes. I do. If you get clothes from Target for 2 bucks, I’m all right. Maybe, I’m all right–NO, I’m not all right. I’m not all right! It’s a dog! I can’t get past this! I know some of you are like–“Little Rippy is part of our family!” And I would say, “Listen to me. No, he’s not. I’m here to speak truth to you. He’s not a part of your family. I don’t care if he dragged your kid out of your well. He is a dog. He’s a smart dog. But he’s still a dog, man.

Here’s my point: What I find harder to grasp is how many men and women are perfectly content living the life of a cultured animal, how many men and women are content living the life of a dog. I’m going to eat a little bit, I’m going to sleep a little bit, I’m going to amuse myself, and I’m going to die well.

What blows my mind more than people spending obscene amounts of cash on dogs, is how many of us are perfectly content chasing our tail.

Discontentment is the foundation of faith, because it screams out of our guts that there is something more. Without this groaning that Romans 8 talks about, there cannot be discontentment. And this discontentment leads us to Jesus.

–Matt Chandler, Hebrews (Part 7): Faith, April 30, 2006.

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