The Lion's Den

The Book of Ron · 12 of 48 · 3 minute read

I was probably nine or ten years old. One afternoon, Dad had some business to take care of. Maybe he was selling tools. Maybe he was collecting money. I’m not sure which. My older brother and I rode along.

We pulled into a property surrounded by a large five-foot chain-link fence. Between every post were signs that read: Warning. Beware of Dog. As the car rolled up the driveway, a large dog exploded off the porch. He charged the fence and ran alongside the car, barking hard and fast until Dad brought the car to a stop.

We waited. No one came out. Dad looked over at me and said, “Go knock on that door.” I stared at him in disbelief. Surely he did not expect me to go inside that fence with that dog. He repeated himself. I opened the car door, scared stiff. My mind was racing. How am I supposed to do this? One thought kept repeating in my head: You cannot show fear.

I walked the long way around the car, trying to gather enough courage just to move my legs. I kept telling myself, I don’t know if a dog can smell fear or see fear, but you cannot show it. I reached the gate. It could swing in or out. I chose to open it inward so the gate would stay between me and the dog for a moment longer.

He was barking ferociously. As I stepped inside, he backed up but stayed directly in front of me. When I closed the gate, I could feel him near my legs. I could almost feel the saliva from his barking hitting my pants. I refused to look down at him. I was afraid if I looked into his eyes, he would see fear in mine. I fixed my eyes straight ahead on the steps leading to the door and kept walking.

He stayed in front of me the entire way — backing up, barking, showing his teeth. I knocked. No answer. I turned and walked back, repeating the same slow, steady steps. He followed me all the way to the gate, barking the entire time. I stepped out and closed it behind me.

Relief flooded over me so strongly I nearly collapsed. I walked back around the car, got in, and we drove away.

On the way home, I felt something new — pride. I had shown no fear. The dog did not bite me. I had done it. I remember thinking, maybe I am stronger than I thought.

Years passed. I became a Christian. I began studying Scripture more seriously. One day, while reading about Daniel in the Book of Daniel, something became clear. That afternoon in the yard had been my own lion’s den. It had nothing to do with my courage. Nothing to do with my strength. I was a young boy placed in harm’s way. And God protected me.

As it says in Daniel 6:22, “My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions’ mouths, that they have not hurt me.”

Each story I write has a purpose. It is to give my granddaughter some degree of wisdom. Every one of us will have our own stories. As we read them, we are reminded of those moments that shaped us.

But in this case, it is not wisdom I am passing on. In this case, it is something deeper. It is about going to the Lord and accepting Him as your Savior. At that age, I had not yet done that. I had not accepted Him. Yet I assure you, there is not an ounce of doubt in my mind that He was the one who protected me that day.

It had nothing to do with me.

God shut the mouth of that lion. Not because I was brave, but because He was present.

This story has a workbook — how to use it with the person across from you, and the point of it. Read the workbook for The Lion's Den · All the workbooks.