I’ve been working with horses for a few years.  My first and favorite horse, Sky, has been a great joy to work with.  Some would say that she trained me and I would agree.

I was introduced to natural horsemanship shortly after I adopted Sky and I’ve never looked back.  I love it for a couple of reasons.  First, I love building the relationship with the horse.  That’s why I have horses—for a relationship.

But there is something else.

I’ve discovered that working with horses can be like looking into the mirror of your own soul.  Many times the relationship between handler and horse mirrors the relationship between God and me.  Let me explain.

         

One day I was working with Sky.  She is the stereotypical mare.  She needs respect.  She is dead-broke, sound, and great for lessons.  But she likes to have a say in what she does.  If disrespected, she pins those ears and gives the “mare-look.”  We are very similar.

I was working on the circling game which requires using my hand and carrot-stick to have her move out and circle around me while I hold the end of her 12-foot rope.  This is easy for Sky and as her handler I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  Then my mentor suggested that I move to the other side of the arena to “change” the game.  When I looked at the other side, I spotted a large mud puddle.  I immediately understood what she had in mind.

Sky hates the mud.

She can be coerced into clear water, but mud is a problem.  Despite her 1000 lb frame, she believes she must fear what she cannot see in that puddle.  So we walked to the other end of the arena.  What happened next was a blur.

As I lifted my hand for step 1 of the circling game, Sky anticipated (did I mention she is sometimes smarter than I am?) what was coming and spun around and went in the opposite direction at a dead canter.  Not a walk, or a nice, even trot, but a dead canter.

She obviously forgot that circling means covering the same ground and mud puddle in both directions.  She hit that mud puddle at break-neck speed and is lucky she didn’t break her neck.  Her legs went out from under her as her feet slipped and threw mud in all directions.   Both of us were covered in mud before it was over.  When she stood up (uninjured), she looked at me in surprise.

“Well, maybe we should do that differently,” was my only response.

As her handler, I wasn’t trying to hurt her, scare her, or force her.  I had only asked her to face her fear and trust me to lead her through it safely because I knew the kind of horse she could be.  I also knew there was nothing in that mud puddle to fear.  She needed to learn this, too.

Sometimes the fear of something is greater than the thing itself.  When we turn to stare that fear down, we might be surprised to find that it really isn’t that scary at all.

At least, that is what I’ve learned from Sky.   The next time I asked her, I was ready and blocked her avoidance.  I applied pressure and asked her to face the mud puddle calmly and slowly with my lead this time.  She hesitated, looked at me, and walked through it.

Each time became easier and easier as she learned she could trust me with this mud puddle.

I spend a lot of time with horses, but I also spend a lot of time with people.  I’ve discovered many people suffer from these same insecurities.  And most people I talk to want to be rid of their insecurities.  They just don’t understand that you can’t wish them away, hide them away, or even pray them away.  You must turn and face them if you ever want to be free.

What are you afraid of?

Is it the fear of always being alone?  Fear of rejection, failure, commitment, or maybe what people think about you?

The problem is that fear suffocates love and suffocates life and suffocates joy.  It steals the breathless moments we were made to enjoy.  I’ve learned this from Sky.  I’ve learned it from adopting a scared and angry child.  I’ve learned it from watching women and men smother or dominate each other with their fear of losing.

If you are always afraid, you never experience the joy of really loving, and loving someone else freely is the highest calling Jesus gives us after loving Him.

 Jesus said, “If you love me, you’ll do what I say.” That sounds good and easy until He asks me to do something that taps into my insecurities and I run away from the discomfort of the asking.

But our Handler asks us to trust Him where He leads us for He knows the real thing to be feared is not our insecurity, but living a life void of deep, real love.  A life without the beauty, the joy, and the fruit of healthy relationships.

Oswald Chambers says, “If a person is ever going to do anything worthwhile, there will be times when he must risk everything by his leap in the dark.”

Or in this case, by his leap through the mud puddle.

All of us have insecurities and fears.  But we don’t have to nurture and coddle them.  For the more we make them comfortable and at home in our lives, the longer they will stay.

So God, as our Handler, brings “pressure” into our lives to peel our arms from around those deadly insecurities that keep us from living life to the full.  It’s really just a matter of who has the courage to stare down what God knows is not that scary at all.

What are you afraid of?

The pressures and circumstances you are facing may just be your Handler asking you to face your mud puddle so you, too, can live free of fear and experience the joy of leaping over it.  It may be a choice to love someone who is unlovely, to risk losing in loving, to let go of your anger, to admit that you were wrong, and to face that ugly insecurity–once and for all.

Each time you do it becomes easier and easier as you learn God can always be trusted to keep you safe.

Because being alone is not really a problem when God is always with us,

Rejection can’t kill us because God has already accepted us,

Failure is never as fatal as the fear of even trying,

Commitment brings intimacy and deepens our understanding of love,

And who really cares anyway what others think of us because all that really matters is what God thinks about us.

So take a risk and leap over that mud puddle. God is at the end of your rope.  While He understands your discomfort at facing that puddle, He also understands the pure joy of a soul set free to love, to live, and especially, to leap.

And He knows that this is nothing to fear at all.