Written on June 8, 2016.
I can always count on him to be first to the fence line to eat. In fact, he usually gallops upon the fence, stopping with just inches to spare. But on a morning a few weeks ago, the one who comes fast and furious, eyeing his prize, was last. Way last.
With each step, he threw his head high in an effort to gather a strength that would gain ground. Breathless and drenched with sweat he arrived. Doing a visual survey as he dipped his head into his trough, I saw that one hoof stood higher than the rest. A mound of mud protruded from several days of rain. Hidden inside was a rock that was pressing upon the most tender part.
As the mass was removed, his breathing eased. Shoulder to shoulder with him, I felt his pulse ebb. Though my job was done, I was reluctant to leave. For as renewed strength coursed through him, Job 39:19-25 marched through me.
“Do you give the horse its strength
or clothe its neck with a flowing mane?
Do you make it leap like a locust,
striking terror with its proud snorting?
It paws fiercely, rejoicing in its strength,
and charges into the fray.
It laughs at fear, afraid of nothing;
it does not shy away from the sword.
The quiver rattles against its side,
along with the flashing spear and lance.
In frenzied excitement it eats up the ground;
it cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.
At the blast of the trumpet it snorts, ‘Aha!’
It catches the scent of battle from afar,
the shout of commanders and the battle cry.
That’s when I felt it. The tremble. A feeling, a movement, a sound. A recognition and a resonance from a little spot on earth and the wide open space of Heaven.
In that instant, I recognized how much larger than me this steed I leaned upon was. With a twitch he could put me in a place other than where I was. Soundly. But that wasn’t what caused the tremble. It was the undoing understanding, that I was rubbed up against a part of Him, a piece of the King called Majesty. Right then, right there, being caressed by His very character, it registered slow and swift. How often I forget to tremble.
I meet with majesty every day. Several times actually in five faces with snip, star, stripe and blaze. Relentless, strong, bold. But I forget? I fail to be moved in the every of it. Well, I did.
I don’t want to miss trembling. To miss rocking with the resonation of who He is in the many and multitude of this world. Simply because I am so comfortable with Him. With Jesus. Because He has always been my constant and my continual. I don’t know without Him. Yet, my pursuit in my present is this. I want to be content but not complacent. Near and not numb.
I want to tremble when…
A little boy in a big bunk lifts his hands and says “Pappa” with a big grin before bed
A bird ledges right before me and looks me in the eye
When the car starts
When the car doesn’t because He knows what I don’t
When I’m seen by someone precious to me
When I’m not seen by someone precious because it causes me to look
When I have an encounter with someone who needs Him at the store
When there is no encounter because I am there to prepare the way for one
When it rains
When it shines
When absolutely everything is wrapped in covenant
When absolutely everything is falling apart with condition
And when I am brave enough to look Him right in the face in every person I encounter, because some display, some reveal of character is knocking at their door and pops right out when I’m there to appreciate and acclaim it. So they can tremble too. Because maybe, just maybe, if we trembled more with who He is, we would shake less about who we have not yet let Him be. Rubbed and rolled. Trembling
Ask Him to help you tremble throughout an entire day. Keep asking Him in the days to come until you cant’ forget to tremble. Journal some of your trembles.
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