My dog was sitting with me during one of the hardest seasons of my life, and I swear she understood something was wrong before I even started crying.
I remember the exact moment I knew she had a soul, and it was that. Just… the way she looked at me. My faith tells me God breathes life into His creation with intention, and I’ve seen that reflected back at me through her eyes too many times to believe otherwise (not that I want to get into a whole theology debate about animal souls right now).
But that kind of connection doesn’t come from nowhere.
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Our love shapes them in some way, but they also matter to God on their own. I don’t have this figured out. I just find comfort in knowing Scripture shows animals in the renewed creation, even if the specifics about Buddy or any one pet are a mystery this side of eternity.
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Animals never bit into the forbidden fruit, never built a Babel, never denied Christ three times before the rooster crowed. They just existed as God made them.
If salvation involves restoring what sin broke, and animals were never the ones who broke anything, maybe their place in eternity was never in question to begin with. We’re the ones who needed rescuing from ourselves.
I also think there’s something to the idea that God’s goodness doesn’t operate on a scarcity model. He’s not rationing eternity. The same God who clothes the lilies and feeds the sparrows isn’t suddenly going to get stingy about the creatures who shared our homes and hearts.
I want to be wherever my dogs ended up.
That’s about the extent of my theology on this one.