Wouldn't It Be Shocking?

Our minibus pulled up in front of a small white house. The dilapidated porch seemed as inviting as a warm soda on a hot day. The final rays of light were sneaking behind the house illuminating only the tops of the trees. I looked at my bandmates, Jason and Aaron. Aaron put his head down and began to shake it slowly. Taking a deep breath, Jason pulled the door handle towards him and we disembarked to the cracked, cement sidewalk.

We'd been on the road for months. By this point of our tour, I knew Jason and Aaron very well. As part of a Youth Encounter band, we did not stay in hotels and almost always we, the men of the group, stayed with the same host families. Sometimes the houses were big and we'd have a bit of space to spread out the clothes that we'd been wearing for all these months. Many times the houses were owned by people who simply enjoyed having others stay with them. Their generosity was astounding and humbling at the same time. We were attempting to live out the command of Jesus to enter a town with nothing (we did have a few extra-clothes) and live on the gracious hospitality of others. Most days Aaron, Jason and I would pick up the women in our group and drive multiple hours to the next location where we would play music, interact with youth and peddle our t-shirts, cd's and other curios.

This town was like almost any other non-descript towns that we had encountered on our journey. Somewhere in the northeast (the exact location has escaped through the barn door of my memory) we alit onto the sidewalk and cross the crinkled grass avoiding hardened landmines of dog excrement. Small poop. Small dog. That was good. We had encountered many canines whose heads were larger than mine. One family had two great Danes running through their house. When Desley, who was a smidge over 5 feet tall sat down, she disappeared behind the horse-like beast. Jason pulled his suitcase up over the side walk to the house while Aaron and I took in the surroundings. The house was small; likely at least two of us would be sleeping in the same bed tonight. After spending so much time together, comfort of sleeping in bed was much more of a need than fear offending our own hetero-tendencies. Jason rang the doorbell, a lonely sound, much like one hears in the movies when doomsday is about to spring up from the backdrop. Not a millisecond after the first ring, a shrill noise assaulted our tympanic membranes. Dogs - plural - little ones. The door opened and the little Cujos attacked our feet. Three chihuahuas - a regular Taco Bell commercial. Not only were we greeted by dogs but also by a billowing, roiling cloud of cigarette smoke. My own pyrophobic self prepared to stop, drop and roll. A heavyset woman in a nightgown greeted us.

"Hello," she said. The sound of her voice was more like the sound of heavy machinery clearing snow off roads than human. "You must be the boys."

And a genius to boot.

Jason extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Jason, this is Aaron, and Reid." Aaron began to make his way to the threshold when the guard dogs stopped him with their menacing fangs and roaring, growling voices. Aaron held up his hands as if the dogs were trying to put him under arrest rather than repel an intruder.

The woman reached down and grabbed all three dogs by their collars and nuzzled her nose into the midst of the wriggling mass. "Be quiet little babies." She was talking baby talk to them. "They are just nice little yummy wummy boys. You let them come inside. Yes, oh, yes, little ones." Jason had to stand in front of me to keep me from running away screaming. The woman tried to extend her hand, failed once, and then placed one of the dogs under her meaty arm. "I'm Gladys. This is Carlos. This, Jose. And this one," she squeezed her arm a bit, "is Pete." Aaron said, "Shouldn't his name be Pedro?" Gladys tilted her head to the side like a dog trying to understand a human. "You know, they are chihuahuas, from Mexico - the other two have Mexican names - shouldn't it... be... Pedro, Peter, get it?" Gladys didn't get it thereby losing her genius status.

"Come in," she said glancing sideways at Aaron. "Make yourselves at home. I'll show you to your room."

Jason looked at me. I, too, caught the singularity of her word - room. Not plural, thus it would be a cosy night for the Watermark boys. She took us down the hallway to the farthest room. I wanted to crawl along the floor where the fresh(er) air was. It was like walking with one's head in the clouds - literally. She left us to peer around our (cell) room. She stayed in the hallway like a jailer preparing to shut the barred doors. I almost touched Jose, I think, but Jose reared back and prepared to gnaw the skin off my finger.

Gladys pulled her dog back. "He doesn't like strangers."
"Stranger danger," I said lamely.
Gladys stared at me as if I had green horns growing from my temples.
"Right, I'll just go into our room."

After depositing our bags, we three kings went back to the living room to find Gladys on her sofa petting her pooches. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I asked about the oversized dog-collars.

"I'm training the boys. I just had an invisible fence installed. I don't want them going out into the road. See, what happens is," Aaron held up his hands. "We know what an invisible fence is." Gladys ignored him. "the wires underground are set to give a small electric shock through these collars when they try to cross. After a while they will know exactly where the fence is and I can take the collars off. I don't want any unsightly fence surrounding my property." As apart from the beautiful dog doodoo strewn throughout the yard. I didn't say that out loud. Fortunately my internal monologue filter was turned on.

Jason said, "I hope that turns out well for you."
"So do I," Gladys said.

About 11:00 p.m., I was startled awake. At first I thought that Jason had elbowed me in his sleep or Aaron had kicked my leg - yes, all three of us were in the same bed. A noise had come from the front area. My light sleeping habits had done me in again. The front door had opened and shut. At first I thought it was an intruder but then realized that if an intruder had, in fact, entered the premises, the three trusty attack dogs would make quick work of his ankles. Slowly I fluffed my pillow and attempted to flag down the Sandman again. Then, a noise. From outside, the noise sounded like a crow being strangled. Then, it happened again. This time, like the sound a balloon makes when you pull the opening tight. A high pitched squeal. I opened the slats and peered outside. There were Peter, Jose and Carlos finding the invisible fence. Not just once, but over and over they walked tentatively around the yard finding the jolts of electricity that would send them flying head over heels. Yip. Yapyap. I snapped the blinds back shut. Dumb dogs. Don't the realize they just have to stay away from that area of the yard. You'd think after they got shocked once, it would sink in to stay away from...

I am often times a chihuahua. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that underneath much of life is an electric fence. But time and again I keep testing the boundaries and cursing myself when I feel the pain. I am shocked - I should have learned my lessen the last time. Irresistibly I am drawn to the apparent freedom of the world outside the fence -but death awaits on that road. I curse the fence sometimes; I explode in outrage that something is outside of my will. Yip yapyap. If only life came with a visible fence. If only my life came with my very own angel standing at each dangerous intersection pointing me out of the way saying, "There is danger here! Turn round and flee-eth." But should I really need an angel like the one guarding the garden of Eden? Should I not already know what danger awaits?

Perhaps, but I am drawn still to sin like a moth to street lights. And each time I stumble, I am shocked - physically pained, yes, but shocked that I can fall into the same habits. I think the Holy Spirit is that electric fence undergirding my life and I the jolt I receive from sin is a benefit to me so that I will not receive the ultimate punishment for my revolt against God. Freedom is within the fence. The Spirit keeps me safe even though it hurts at times.

This is a precursor to my college years and perhaps a few of you can relate to a young man, after leaving home, discovers there are no visible boundaries. A young man who learned from trial and error - usually by error.