As I walked my dog, Cooper, two days ago, I heard a tiny, pleading bark on the cliffs above our home. It was so faint that I wasn’t even sure it was a dog, and I could see no sign of life above me. As I walked on, however, the tiny bark continued. I scanned the cliffs again and finally saw a small white dog peering over a ledge 200 feet above me.

“Oh, my goodness,” I thought. “He must have run away from a home in the subdivision above us and somehow worked himself part way down the cliffs.”

His plaintiff barking continued, and I knew I could not leave him there. So, I took Cooper home and started to climb toward the ledge where this tiny explorer was stuck. After twenty minutes, I had worked myself out onto a narrow ledge forty feet from my objective.

At that point, my deep fear of heights kicked in big time. My heart was pounding, and I had to keep talking myself into inching just a little closer. “Lord, I can’t leave this dog on this cliff through the night. Please give me courage to move a little closer.”

After going another ten feet, I nearly slipped off the narrow ledge and knew I could go no further. So, I began calling him to come to me. “Hey boy. Come on, here we go, come on, let’s go.”

He ignored me and kept barking and looking over the edge like he was planning to jump. “No, no I pleaded. Please move back. Good boy, good boy. Come on, buddy, come on. Let’s go, let’s go have some dinner.”

Twenty-five minutes went by with no progress. He wouldn’t even look at me. I pleaded over and over, softening my voice and changing my words, hoping I might sound enough like his owners for him to come to me. But he continued to ignore me and kept moving back and forth along the edge, just inches from death.

I knew it would be dark soon, too late to call in a rescue team. I had tried my best, and he refused all my offers, so part of me said I’d done all I could.

But I just couldn’t leave him. He was so lost and alone. So, I simply prayed, “God, he is not responding to me. I need your help. Please move him to trust me and come to me.”

At that point, the little guy suddenly looked straight at me.

I kid you not. For the first time, he seemed to recognize my presence. I continued to gently call him, and little step by little step he worked his way down the ledge toward me. Closer and closer, and then he turned away. Then a few steps toward me, then away. But inch by inch he was coming nearer. When he was within two feet, I reached out and pulled him into my arms.

His little body seemed to melt into mine. All he could do was softly whimper and wiggle deeper into my arms. “Safe at last, safe at last.” That’s what both of us were thinking.

We then began the delicate journey back down the cliff. I couldn’t bear to put him down and reignite his fears, so I tucked him inside my coat. We inched back along the ledge and slowly worked our way through several crevices that led down the cliff, ending on the road 200 feet below.

As my feet touched pavement, I was thanking God over and over for helping me to overcome my fears and rescue this little guy.

When I got home, I discovered he had a dog tag with his name, Ponyo, and his owner’s phone number. A woman answered the call and was overjoyed to learn that her baby was safe. Ten minutes later, her husband and mother pulled into my driveway to retrieve little Ponyo. They had been looking for him for three hours.

They thanked me profusely and asked me how I’d found their dog. When I described how long it took to get Ponyo to come to me, the young man said, “Oh, that’s not surprising. He’s nearly blind and deaf.”

Those words stunned me.

When I walked back into our home and closed the door, I fell to my knees, weeping.

“God, that’s me. That’s me. I wandered so far from you, thinking I could run my own life. But I made a mess of it. I got oh so very lost, so trapped in my sin. I worked myself onto a dangerous ledge of worldliness and couldn’t find my way back.”

“But you would not leave me in despair. Long before I called out to you, you were moving to rescue me. You did more than walk a ledge to save me. Two thousand years ago, you conquered overwhelming fears and went up on a cross to die for my sins.”

“I called out to Ponyo for 25 minutes. You called out to me for 25 years. I was blind to your love and deaf to your voice. But you did not give up on me. You gently called to me again and again and finally sent your Spirit into my heart to open my eyes and unstop my ears. And when I finally understood the depth of my sin and the fullness of your love, and put my trust in you, you welcomed me into your arms. All I want now, dear Jesus, is to be closer and closer to you.”

I just knelt there in our entry way softly crying and saying, “Thank you, God, thank you God,” over and over.

I thank you, too, little Ponyo, for opening my eyes a little more to the rescuing love of Jesus. May you live a long and comfortable life … but never sneak out of your yard again!

~ Ken

As John Newton wrote so many years ago,

“Amazing grace! how sweet the sound,
That saved a wrench like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.”
‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear,
the hour I first believed.

Reflection Questions

• Think of a time when God used a life experience to open your eyes more fully to the love of Christ in the gospel. Describe that experience to someone else.
• Perhaps you’ve never heard the gospel and trusted in Jesus. If so, please click here to allow my dog, Cooper, to explain it to you.
• The six principles of relational wisdom are simply an overflowing of the gospel. To learn how the gospel can strengthen your relational skills, click here.

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© 2026 Ken Sande

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