When I grew up I wanted to be more than a cowboy; I wanted to be a rancher. My days would begin with a bowl of steaming oatmeal and a scalding cup of coffee, black as sin. (Truth be told I probably enjoyed fruit loops and hot chocolate more, but I knew I’d have to change my ways if I was going to earn my spurs.) I made my mom shop for my clothes at the local cowboy store. I begged for her to buy me a lasso when she was paying for my Wranglers, but she was harder to move than a Baptist mule (sorry mom). My favorite shirt was baby blue. It had a horse’s head framed by a star stitched onto each breast pocket. Ooooh ya, it was hotter than a can of campfire beans.
I needed a poster for my room to complete my western motif, and found one the next time I visited the nearest Christian bookstore. Like all good boys, I picked one that had a quaint saying on it that went something like, In God’s Pasture You Can Run Free. It pictured a horse with his mane flowing, the background blurred with the effort of matching the camera to his excessive speed.
I was really happy about the way I’d spent my parent’s money. For about a day.
The next morning I lay in bed still pining for that lasso. I could have negotiated better, I thought. I could have managed without those new jeans. I would’ve gone to school in nothing but my tighty whities if only I could’ve had that rope in my hands.
It was the poster though, that really chapped my rawhide. I didn’t know what exactly was wrong with it, only that there was something about it that sat like a burr against my tender western tush.
It was only years later that I had the insight to understand what the issue was. Right behind that stallion was stationed a fence. A sturdy, white picket wall against the wilderness. The supposedly Christian side was all manicured and safe. On the other side was… evil?
Okay, I’ll buy that. On the other side was evil. Sure. What I will no longer stand for is the idea that evil gets the wild real estate, or that the powers of darkness get a monopoly on the adventure and excitement.
The Bible has the more correct picture. Adam and Eve were living in paradise. I think the guy who wrote the story was a gardener, hence the reference to a garden of some sort. Having lived in Africa I think it was more than a few rows of carrots and beets, and more likely resembled a remote tropical shoreline.
They had the world, and settled for one stinking tree.
Do you want paradise back? Are you looking for the untamed life? I think what you’re missing is the Kingdom of Grace. Let me introduce you to my friend Jesus.
