"Now it will be seen that, in so far as the tame animal has a real self or personality, it owes this almost entirely to its master. If a good sheepdog seems 'almost human' that is because a good shepherd has made it so [....]
I am now going to suggest - though with great readiness to be set right by real theologians - that there may be a sense [...] in which those beasts that attain a real self are in their masters. That is to say, you must not think of a beast by itself, and call that personality and then inquire whether God will raise and bless that. You must take the whole context in which the beast acquires its selfhood - namely 'The-goodman-and-the-goodwife-ruling-their-children-and-their-beasts-in-the-good-homestead'. That whole context may be regarded as a 'body' in the Pauline sense; and how much of that 'body' may be raised along with the goodman and goodwife, who can predict? So much, presumably, is necessary not only for the glory of God and the beatitude of the human pair, but for that particular glory and that particular beatitude which is eternally coloured by that particular terrestrial experience.
And in this way it seems to me possible that certain animals may have an immortality, not in themselves, but in the immortality of their masters. And the difficulty about personal identity in a creature barely personal disappears when the creature is thus kept in its proper context. If you ask, concerning an animal thus raised as a member of the whole Body of the homestead, where its personal identity resides, I answer 'Where its identity always did reside even in the earthly life - in its relation to the Body and, specially, to the master who is the head of that Body.'
In other words, the man will know his dog; the dog will know its master and, in knowing him, will be itself. To ask that it should, in any other way, know itself, is probably to ask for what has no meaning."
I love that. An animal finds their 'almost humanness' within the context of their human master. Just like we can only find ourselves within the context of the true Self. It brings to life the expression that people and their pets start looking/acting alike over time, and why there have been so many stories of true life-changing relationships between animals and humans.
It also solidifies the parallels I have always made between my dog Ayda, my ownership, love, and shepherding of her, and my relationship with my Shepherd.
One of my best friends and old roommates used to work at a Christian summer camp that centered around horse riding and training, and using horse training parallels to shed light on how God leads us, and how we tend to respond out of our fear and ignorance as flawed humans.
She said something once that has since stuck with me.
Apparently horses have no depth perception and very little color vision, so unknown objects moving toward them or on the ground in front of them get them easily spooked. This is why they're sometimes blindfolded or have blinders on in horse trailers or in crowded public places.
With this, one of their biggest fears are large tarps on the ground. They basically look like gaping holes the horse could fall into, so they're terrified of walking on them. A horse trainer works with the horse to ease them into being able to walk on the tarp successfully. Once they are willing to walk on tarps, they can walk through water and other land that they wouldn't have been able to before.
The tarp never looks less scary to the horse.
The tarp never makes sense or is understood by the horse.
The tarp will always...always...look like a gaping hole in the ground. The horse's brain does not have the capacity to register it as anything else, and will alert the nervous system and the adrenaline glands of danger over and over again. Despite that response becoming desensitized over time, it will never truly go away.
But here's the thing...
The goal is to gain the horse's trust to the point that the horse would walk straight into a gaping hole in the ground if its master guided it there.
This is when animals could possibly find their 'almost humanness' to me, when they transcend their instincts in dedication to their master, and therefore glorify the heart of our God. I see myself so painfully clear in this picture.
Because oh, how I love scanning the horizons for the gaping holes in the ground of my life.
There have been a legitimate few, and they led to broken bones and scars and regrets. And somewhere inside myself I vowed never to let myself fall into one again. I'd avoid any situation necessary, any relationship necessary, any feeling necessary, to avoid falling into a hole like that again.
Just like with horses, some of this is survival instinct and holds a beneficial fear of danger in order to survive and stay healthy.
But when the Master leads you to danger, you must trust Him above your instincts.
Even if it's straight into a gaping hole in the ground.
That vow of no more gaping holes has been challenged by Him over and over again in His leadership of my soul.
I'd even say I'm in the middle of such a situation right now. One where my brain is on edge and I'm looking around for all my exits, making sure I have a quick and painless escape if necessary, even searching for excuses to use them now before potential disaster hits. Some of this is healthy, and it means I'm being smart about my surroundings. But when I am called deeper, when I sense His voice is in front of me and not behind me telling me to walk away, I must follow His footsteps on top of that tarp and trust that He is my God, He is my Shepherd, and falling into a gaping hole with Him is more beautiful than avoiding those holes without Him.
And so I quiet my soul, move forward, and keep myself open to His guidance. I give Him my fears but do not let them rule my steps. I let Him be my Master, and lead me where my feet could never wander alone.
And maybe one day I'll be as brave as some horses are out there.
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