Leaps of Faith…

When I was a child, I had a succession of one-eyed Shetland ponies.  My Uncle Larry was a veterinarian.  He was often called out to carnivals when a Shetland pony had a cancerous eye.  Uncle Larry would cut out the eye, and then the carnival owner would give him the pony instead of paying him.  Children who wanted to do the pony rides at carnivals did not want to ride the one-eyed Shetland ponies. 

These ponies were not fond of children.  They spent their lives plodding in circles while the kids pulled their ears or manes or kicked them repeatedly to go faster.  I supposed if I went in circles twelve hours a day, being abused the whole time, I might not like children either. 

We - my sister, brother, and I – had all been given one-eyed ponies in our childhood.  Our parents were advocates of the “Get on him and show him who’s boss” method of training.  It didn’t always work.  One day, my brother got off his one-eyed Shetland pony to open a gate for the adults on horseback.  The adults went through it.  My Daddy yelled at Steve to come on, and Steve hollered back, “I can’t, Daddy!  My horse is standing on my foot.”  One-eyed Shetland pony – 1; six-year-old boy – 0. 

I had one pony who hated being ridden.  He didn’t mind being saddled.  But as soon as you got on his back, he got stubborn.  I had to spur him just to get him to move.  The only time he would run was when we were pointed in the direction of the barn.  He knew he would be unsaddled, brushed, and fed.  Then, he would break into a trot, sometimes even a run. 

Steve had graduated to a big horse by then.  We saddled up after school one day and went riding (I could ride a horse before I could ride a bike).  Of course, my pony lagged after his big horse; he had to take four steps for every one of the big horses.  I was about five years old and felt like I was finally gaining mastery of my pony until we turned for home. 

When we crossed the gully, my horse broke into a slow trot.  Then he picked up speed.  Before long, he was running full out.  I was pulling back on the reins and yelling “Whoa” for all I was worth, but my pulling and my words had no effect.  My pony had smelled the barn, and he wanted to get this ride over with as soon as possible. 

Steve saw what was happening and spurred his horse to catch up with me.  He rode up alongside at full gallop and tried to grab my reins, but he was too high up.  I admit I was terrified.  I’d never been on a runaway horse before. 

In a split second, an idea entered Steve’s mind.  “Jump!” he said.  He wanted me to leap from my horse to his.  We had seen John Wayne do this many times, so we both knew it was possible.  How hard could it be? 

In our haste to solve the problem, we neglected reality.  My horse was considerably shorter than his.  I would not only have to leap, but I would also need to get two feet of height from my saddle to the back of his horse.  

My horse was accelerating; the time was now.  I leaped.  The scene still plays in slow motion in my memory.  I bent my knees as far as possible; I left my saddle.  I hit the side of Steve’s horse.  I fell face down on the dirt road, swallowing a pound of sand.  I looked up.  My pony was disappearing around the curve, heading for the barn.  Sputtering, I began to cry. 

I made my way to the house.  My mother sensed this was a teachable moment and told me to drink some water and then go to the barn and unsaddle my horse.  “You’re not done riding until your horse is unsaddled, brushed, and fed,” she said.  I did as I was told.  Steve was gracious and only made fun of me for six weeks.   

There will come a time when God asks you to take a leap of faith.  Leap and forgive someone who wronged you.  Leap and go on a mission trip.  Leap and find a faith mentor who can guide you.  Leap and have a conversation about what Jesus means to you. 

Most importantly, know for sure who is telling you to leap.  I’ve taken a couple of leaps in my life because someone told me it was a good idea.  It turned out not to be such a good idea.  Not everyone who encourages you to leap has your best interest in mind. 

What I know is every time my Heavenly Father has asked me to leap, even if I am scared, he is always there to catch me, so when our Heavenly Father says, “Leap,” leap.