My dog displays a type of reverence for me that frankly, though flattering, feels unearned. It’s not that I don’t treat him lovingly or that I’m not a fairly decent dog owner. I am. But you don’t have to be a dog whisperer to recognize that his preference for being in my presence is simply because he has identified me, rightly or wrongly, as the Alpha Dog of the household. Again, I’m no animal behavior expert, but I believe he arrived at that conclusion based entirely upon the facts that a) I’m a male b) I’m the biggest and c) I have the loudest voice. But the title is one I didn’t really aspire to or feel I fully deserve. Yet there he is, in all his doggy wisdom, anointing me all the same. Maybe he’s got a point.

The Alpha Dog is not just there to provide a sense of security, though that’s a big part of his job. He is also required to lead. My question, and it’s a question I think I’ve been asking my whole life in one way or another, what does it really mean to lead? And by that I mean not only what does it mean to be a leader of other people, but what does it mean to be your own leader? How do you exert authority over your own life? And if you are not the author of your life, who is?

I was thinking of my dog and his assertion when reading the recent criticism of President Obama. It’s coming primarily from people who would otherwise be loyalists — liberal pundits and the like. James Carville, for instance, criticizes him for not doing more about the disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. What could he have done? What should he do? According to Carville, he needs to lead, he needs to show that he’s in charge, he needs to reassure us that everything will be ok — even if it things are going to be inexorably changed.

So Barack popped into my head when, during the teaching yesterday morning, Jimmy talked about the fact that his “Daddy” was absent or dead for most of his life and certainly during his formative years. So was Barack Obama’s. So was mine.

In Psalm 13 the psalmist seems to be going through a bit of an existential dilemma. “How long are things going to suck for me?,” he asks, “And when are you going to start making it suck for my enemies?” He is screaming out into the universe a giant “WTF???” Does he get an answer? He doesn’t say, but it seems to me he doesn’t, at least not one out loud. And yet, somehow he finds his answer. He seems to look within and say, “in spite of your apparent absence at this particular moment, I will praise you and I will thank you for your goodness to me.”

In a time when my preacher and my President both grew up like I did, Daddyless, I wonder if it’s some kind of national condition. I think that the social and political upheavals of the 20th Century left everyone in America feeling a bit Daddyless. The old model of the Alpha Dog doesn’t seem so useful today and its replacement has not fully emerged. We distrust authority, and yet we are not fully capable of assuming the authorship of our own lives.

And so what does the psalmist do in response to the silence? He praises God and thanks Him for all His blessings. In other words, in spite no obvious or clear guidance, he steps up and does what needs to be done.

And so what does that mean to me, the Alpha Dog? It does not mean that I need to deny that circumstances may suck. It does not mean that I need to deny that challenges may lie ahead. It doesn’t mean that I should ignore the fact that I don’t feel fully equipped to deal with whatever those challenges may be, or that I may be disheartened by the belief that some challenges will be simply too great to be overcome. But it does mean that I need to take stock of all the blessings that I’m surrounded with and in those blessings and from those blessings find a Hope that will inform and fuel my response to those challenges. And if I can do that for myself I can do that for others. That is what it means to be the Alpha Dog of my own life. That is what it means to Lead.

If my dog were not a dog I’m not sure but that he would be a little more discerning in his selection of whom he is to follow. But he is a dog and he has no choice. And so it is with us. We are stuck being ourselves. We can say that we are “following God” but ultimately we have to look into the darkness to see Him, we have to listen to the silence to hear His voice. It would be nice if we could have something a bit more solid to go on. Along the way we many encounter many Alpha Dogs worthy of being followed. But ultimately, because we are not dogs, we have to be the Leaders of ourselves. And we have to lead ourselves to God.

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean–
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down–
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is is you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?