At the ranch in Florida, we’ve had about fourteen inches of rain in the past two weeks.  It’s wet.  When it gets this wet, the road to our cow pens turns to mud.  We had to work cows, even if it was muddy.  Some of the calves were getting as big as their mommas.  We went ahead and scheduled it and prayed the rain would hold off. 

When I went to rent a car at the airport in Sarasota, I asked for something with four-wheel drive.  They were very accommodating and gave me a Jeep Gladiator.  The lot manager insisted on orienting me to the Jeep, which was very kind.  However, he said, “That’s the four-wheel drive shifter, but you won’t be using that.”  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I would probably be using it - a lot. 

On the way into the cow pens the next morning, the road was muddy and rutted.  You could tell where the trucks and trailers had slipped and slid.  I put the little Jeep into four-wheel drive and went forth on faith.   

I know many people who read this are city folks and do not know the joy of bouncing and sliding through the mud.  I was throwing rooster tails of mud from the front tires and the back, trying to get traction.   

I made it all the way to the pens with a grin on my face.  You see, I have a reputation for getting stuck.  Because I am a risk taker and because I think four-wheel drive means you can go anywhere, I sometimes try to go places better crossed by boat.  It was a small triumph to get to the pens. 

We were selling calves and had to load the trailer for multiple trips.  The first trailer load made it out fine.  But every load after that required hooking up a chain from the tractor to the front end of the truck and pulling the truck and trailer out a half-mile to the paved road.  We hauled out four loads that way.  We finished a little after lunchtime.  Sid, who had left his truck at the front gate, asked me to drive him up there.  I was a little worried because I knew the road would be worse than before.  I struck out, trying to keep the Jeep out of the deeper ruts and up on the highest ground.  To my surprise, I made it out just fine.  Every other truck had to be pulled out by the tractor. 

Have you ever heard the expression pride goeth before the fall?  Later that afternoon, I was riding through the orange groves.  Everything was fine until I went to the Resthaven grove. 

When it is dry, the Resthaven grove stays damp.  When it is wet, it becomes a pond.  An old-timer once told me he remembered sitting in the old country schoolhouse and seeing alligators swim in the pond where the grove is now.  I believe it. 

I knew in this grove, I had to be careful.  I stuck to the dry spots and then swung down a middle I remembered as one of the dry areas.  I started to hear the wet “squish” underneath my tires and thought, “Maybe this middle isn’t so dry after all.”  I could see the water ponding, but I thought, “I made it through all those muddy spots this morning; I can get through this.” 

Can you see where this story is heading?  I went forward and felt the wheels starting to spin.  Like every country boy I have ever known, I gave it more gas.  I went forward about ten feet and then went down into a puddle hiding in the grass.  Water rose to the door.  I tried the time-honored tactic of backing up, but I just spun the tires deeper.  I tried to go forward; mud went everywhere, but I didn’t move.  I was not in over my head, but in over my tread. 

Richard has worked for us for over forty years.  Whenever I got stuck, I knew to call Richard.  Back in the days before cell phones, I would have to walk to the nearest house and ask to borrow a phone.  Now, it just requires a call. 

Richard came in his swamp buggy.  He was laughing at my predicament.  All I could do was laugh with him.  I got out of the Jeep, and the water went over my boot all the way up to my knees.  I hooked up the strap and put the Jeep in neutral.  Richard got a good start; the strap went tight, and he slid around.  The Jeep didn’t move.  He made two more runs at it before, and finally, the Jeep started to move.  When I do something like getting stuck, I don’t believe in doing it halfway.   

When we unhooked the strap, we laughed again, and I told him thanks.  I also said, “At least it has been several years since you last had to come pull me out.”   

My pride and your pride lead us to overestimate our capacity.  We think we are in control.  When we start to slip and slide, we think if we try harder, we can make it through.  You might the first couple of times, but that only leads us to believe we can make it through every time.  Then you face a situation and think you can make it on your own, and you get stuck.  Or a decision blows up in your face.  Or you find out the addiction has a death grip on you.  Or you discover you can’t control other people.   

Whenever you get stuck (and you will), the Good News is Jesus has a tow strap.  Call on him.  He will come for you.