How I enjoyed childhood and formative years. None of my doing, I drew parents who somehow figured out the balance between restraint and freedom. They issued my proverbial wings.

The school of freedom issued a bicycle. From its triangular seat, I explored alley, street, and lane. It taught decision making away from my 2^nd Street home. Those decisions were not always right, but to take chances on my own was invaluable.

Part of that learning experience was the dogs.

Dog restraint laws were yet to come at a more complicated time. Dogs loved the roam-free life formed by their creator.  When on my bike, I was always on guard for the inevitable encounter with the tire barkers.

From out of nowhere, the barking beasts would charge my fire-engine-red bicycle. I would kick my speed to Mach IV and kick my tennis shoe at the dog’s snarling teeth until the deranged canine would back off and bark at the tire.

There was no reasoning with tire barkers.

To choose to go bike riding was to accept the fact that somewhere along my route would be an ambush.

Now, I don’t mean to imply there are dogs in the church. However, there is more than the church’s fair share of tire barkers ready to charge at the first sight of motion.

The brethren cleanup their title and refer to them as the loyal opposition.

Why is it we give attention to the self-appointed antagonist? The “Christian dog-barker” breaks every Beatitude of Jesus.

To stimulate unity within churches and between churches perhaps it’s time to place the tire barkers on a short leash and acquire a quality set of sound blocking ear-gear.

Before I get on a rant against the critics, allow me to return to bike chasing dogs.

I noticed important characteristic common to all dogs snapping at my tires and heels.

They didn’t want to converse with me. Their mind was not to be changed.

How could I tell if it was noisemakers in my spokes, or my presence on their street, or perhaps they didn’t like my dog Sparky? How could I know what was bothering them if they wouldn’t talk with me?

I noticed a second thing about tire-barkers. I never saw a canine bark at a motionless tire. It was only forward motion that seemed to bother their one-track brain.

The third puzzling trait was their dullness. Never once did a dog break from learning a new trick to provoke me. Never were they busy with good. From a nap under a shady resting place, they launched their attack.

The barkers didn’t want to chase a ball, learn a new trick, or wag their tails in friendship. They were dull and non-creative. To annoy me made life worthwhile.

Not one tire-barker showed interest in imitating Jesus.

Stay tuned.

Gary J. Sorrells on Cross Church Reflections.