Got Fear? Two Wild Horses Teach Trust

Hi Friends,

I'm thinking a lot about trust these days. On Saturday, I officiated a wedding for a couple who was in my young adult college group a couple years ago. It was a beautiful wedding, filled with the presence of God. But the next morning, the groom came down with a fever. Today, I'm waiting for their test results to come in to see if they have Covid, and so to see if I could have it too. 

Everything in the world tells me to be afraid. To be very afraid. What if I have Covid? What if I get sick? What if my family gets it? What if they get sick? What if I die?

Fear.

It seems forced on us these days. And yet . . .

Yet.

Perhaps it is time to trust God more fully, perhaps it is time to learn the lesson of two wild horses:

Two Wild Horses

 

            Two new horses. Untrained. Barely handled. I looked at the two in their stalls in my barn. Both were sweet, both had a kind eye, but one gazed back at me with trust while the other snorted with suspicion.

            I walked over and pet the mare, Cookie, who turned her head to accept my embrace. Maverick snorted again. I raised a hand slowly to touch his face over the fence. He allowed the touch, but no more.

            I sighed. A few weeks earlier we had picked both horses up from the equine rescue. My daughters wanted to train up a couple horses for the rescue so that they would be more easily adoptable. A summer project, they said. To help the horses and the rescue.

            I’d agreed. 

            So there they were, two wild horses, ready to be transformed into the animals they were meant to be.

            Weeks passed. My daughters worked diligently with both horses. The mare loved the work. She loved to have people come give her attention. She trusted her young trainers, listened carefully, and met them every day at her gate. With each new lesson, she tried to learn, endeavored to understand. She even allowed the farrier to trim her hooves and keep her feet healthy.

            The gelding wanted to please as well. He wanted to learn. But he was afraid. He stood at the back of his stall, unsure if he could trust a person enough to walk forward. What if someone hurt him? What if it went badly? What if those training him were cruel instead of kind? He tried too. He endeavored to understand. But his fears interfered with his training. He wouldn’t allow the farrier near his feet, even though they were badly in need of a trim and hurting him. So he had to endure too-long hooves with chips and cracks.

            The end of the summer drew near. The mare was already being ridden, learning reining cues and how to stop, turn, start. She had come a long way from the horse who knew nothing except that her trainer was to be trusted.

            The gelding had come a long way too. My daughters could touch him, lead him, and saddle him. But he still couldn’t be ridden. A rider scared him too much. Once, he’d kick one of my girls. Another time he’d spun and kicked out at another. And his hooves were still long and broken.

            My daughters had spent their summer simply trying to gain his trust. And they’d been able to move forward. But the horse who was able to trust had learned so much more. She was happier, healthier, and ready to accept new challenges. Fears had not held her back.

            In the end, we ended up adopting the mare. She trusted us, so we could trust her. The gelding was scheduled to go back to the rescue to be further trained and worked with until he could have his feet trimmed and learn to trust a rider.

            As I thought about those two horses, I saw that trust is key to growth. When I am like the mare, trusting God, eager for his presence and his lessons, I move forward in relationship with him with less pain and able to accept his love. I can hold still for his care and move forward with nice, trimmed toes.

            When I am like the gelding, snorting, holding back, fearful, God still works with me, loves me, trains me, but the task is more difficult and filled with unnecessary pain.

            Sometimes, like the gelding, I have good reasons for my lack of trust, lack of faith. Things in my past have hurt me, made me suspicious, cautious, and sometimes fearful. But whether I reasons or not, the results are the same. Fear hurts me. Lack of trust and faith keeps me from fully becoming who I was created to be. 

            Reasons or not, trust is better.

            Psalm 112:6-8 (NIV) tells us, “Surely the righteous will never be shaken…They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord. Their hearts are secure, they will have no fear…”

            So, as I stand in my barn, considering the difference between two wild horses, I know that I want to be more like Cookie, the mare. I want to dare to trust more, believe more, love more. Despite my past hurts. Despite past pain.

            I want to dare to trust the God who loves me, and let him guide me as a rider guides the horse he loves. I want a steadfast heart that trusts God without fear. 

            And I want to be his forever.