Scribed In Light

I had been sitting on my couch reading Scripture and praying for a dear friend battling illness.

I was searching through the New Testament looking for healing.
Restoration.
Promises.
Hope.

You know… those verses you cling to when somebody you love is hurting and you just want something solid to stand on.

My Bible was open in my lap. Inside it was the large cardstock prayer guide my aunt gifted me years ago that walks you through putting on the Whole Armor of God. I read it often.

Then my bread timer went off… because apparently sourdough and spiritual reflection wait for no one.

I was in the middle of stretch-and-folds, so I got up to work my dough, fully intending to return in five minutes.

Five.
Minutes.

That’s all it took.

---

When I walked back into the living room, it looked like a small tactical assault had broken out on my couch.

Bookmarks shredded.
Bible edges mangled.
Paper everywhere.
My Whole Armor of God prayer guide looked personally attacked.

Sitting squarely in the middle of the destruction… was Diesel, one of our miniature dachshunds.

Calm.
Silent.
Completely unapologetic— and with what appeared to be a noticeable glimmer of pride in those puppy eyes.

Meanwhile, Bella, our other dachshund, sat several feet away staring at me like:
“Mama, I would NEVER…”

Now before anybody starts anointing the dog with oil, let me be clear: although for the first few seconds I considered renaming him Demon… I do not believe Diesel is possessed.

He’s a dachshund.

A dear friend and seasoned dog trainer once told me that, in his professional opinion, dachshunds are essentially miniature buzz saws on four legs.

That explains enough already..

But here’s where the story took an unexpected turn.

I was NOT reading out of the book of Ezra before I got up.

I had been nowhere near Ezra.

Somewhere during Diesel’s campaign of biblical destruction, the little chapter tab had been torn away, pages shifted around, and my Bible now sat open directly to Ezra.

And THAT caught my attention.

Because of all places for it to land…
it landed in a book centered around rebuilding after devastation.
Restoration after ruin.
Repair after damage.

Exactly what I had been searching for to begin with.

---

Now listen carefully before anybody thinks I’ve drifted entirely off into theological squirrel chasing.

I do believe in signs. I have had my share throughout my 59 years of life.

However, I also believe discernment matters deeply, because not every coincidence is holy, and not every strange moment is God speaking.

Years ago, I knew someone who suffered severe head trauma after repeated football injuries. Over time, he became convinced God was telling him to do dangerous things — walk his entire mail route backwards, repeatedly run icy stairs… bizarre things that slowly pulled him further and further away from soundness of mind and reality.

It was heartbreaking to witness, and it stayed with me.

I do not believe God leads people into confusion, danger, harm, or destruction.

Not every thought is spiritual.
Not every impulse is divine.
And not every strange event is “a sign”.

Sometimes dogs destroy things because they’re dogs… and sometimes dachshunds specifically seem committed to operating one poor decision away from felony charges.

But Scripture does tell us to acknowledge God in all things.

And honestly?

Something about this made me pause.

Not the destruction itself…
but the direction my thoughts turned afterward.

Not only within the enlightenment I received from the book of Ezra— the healing, restoration, rebuilding, and repair— but too, there was something that struck me hardest of all.

Diesel absolutely annihilated the edges and corners of my Whole Armor of God prayer guide.

Yet somehow… none of the actual words were touched.

Same with the pages in Ezra.

Corners damaged.
Edges rough.
Pieces missing.

Still, the words themselves remained completely readable.
That struck me far deeper than I expected, and I couldn’t help but wonder if faith is a little like that sometimes.

Life chews at the edges.
Illness roughs up the corners.
Grief, fear, exhaustion, disappointment, uncertainty, and hardship leave us looking battle-worn.

But still…the word itself still remains.

---

There’s an old story about a little boy enthusiastically digging through a giant pile of manure.

Someone asked him:
“What on earth are you doing?”

And the boy replied:
“With this much manure… there’s gotta be a pony in here somewhere.”

Honestly?

That may be one of the healthiest descriptions of discernment and faith I’ve ever heard.

Not pretending manure isn’t manure.
Not inventing mystical ponies where none exist.
Not forcing spiritual signs into every random thing that happens. But also not becoming so hardened or cynical that you stop looking altogether.

Because while Diesel chewing my Bible may not have been supernatural…the pause afterward still mattered.

Maybe faith and healing are not always found in thunderclaps, grand revelations, or perfectly packaged moments. Sometimes they quietly meet us in the middle of ordinary life…in warm bread rising on the counter, shaky prayers, messy kitchens, torn pages, wandering thoughts, and unexpected pauses that invite us to reflect a little deeper.

Maybe the point is not to force meaning into everything…but to remain open enough to still notice when something nudges our hearts toward wisdom, gratitude, or healing and restoration.

Even in chaos.

Even in the manure piles.

And sometimes…even through a badly behaved dachshund that guides you to what you were looking for all along.

---

…Also, Diesel would absolutely do it again if given the opportunity. Please keep him in your prayers during this difficult season of continued poor decision making.

With grace, laughter, and a heart still willing to look for the pony,

Tina N. Campbell
Scribed in Light