It was one of those Iowa its-finally-spring evenings we wait all winter for, no bugs, no wind, a new outdoor table & chairs, a cold beverage and family. There was such great conversation, too, as it was his family and my family, who hadn't seen each other for years, probably the last time our older son graduated from high school. Oh, the stories our families can tell. Across the generations, everyone has experiences that are one-of-a-kind.
As one particular story unfolded that night, a prompting from somewhere, probably the Holy Spirit, told me to listen close. It was a story about a hunting trip to the Little Big Horn Mountains. This small group of hunters was on horseback, following the guide back to camp. Nightfall came, and nightfall in the mountains under forest cover is about as dark as it gets. Have you ever toured a cave? If you have, I'm sure at some point the guide turned off the lights and let the group experience complete darkness. What you find out at that moment, is that your eye searches for light. Any light. If there's a kid in the group with those flashy light-up shoes that's cheating! And while you know that there's rock below, above and all around you, you lose your place in space. You search for light to see where you are. If you want to experience it again, stay at a hotel, lay in bed and turn all the lights off (not necessarily in that order). Eventually your eye adjusts, and the light coming in under the door ruins the effect, but for a few moments, you're lost in the dark.
On this hunting trip that night, it was so dark that the only light that the rider could see was an occasional spark from the shoes of the horse ahead him. That's really dark. The next thing the guide told them to do was to drop the reins of the horse. He said that the horse will find camp, but they had to let the horse lead. The hunter said that in the pitch black night, the horse veered to the left, went straight, and around a curve. Eventually he heard the horses ahead of him walk through the creek and then he knew the vicinity of where they were. Soon, the horse went around another curve to the right, and there was the light of the fire at the camp.
Why did I need to hear this story? Because nearly every aspect of my life has changes ahead. Actually, at the time when I thought enough was enough, another announcement was made and boom! More change. That's why God said, "Drop the reins." I have no clue what's ahead or how to get there. I'm pretty sure no matter what path I would pick, it would be the path that runs too-often parallel, even maybe, at times, perpendicular to God's path. I've got to drop the reins.
"Raphah" is the Hebrew word that means to let drop, or let go, especially the hand. It envisions a horseback rider dropping the reins and letting the horse do what he knows how to do. Raphah also has another meaning, that is to be still, to listen.
Psalms 46:10 tells us to "Be still and know that I am God." For a while I may paraphrase it to read, "Be still, God's got this. Go ahead and drop the reins."
