Riding For Christ
Do Not Grow Gentle...
W
e were
sorting
off some
cows
and the rancher was
calling out the numbers
to turn out. He brought
two cows around and
was pointing at the one
to let out. Without a
long drawn out story, I
moved in to help make
the cut and was told that
I needed to get out of the way.
And to be honest with you, it pissed me off.
He didn’t say it ugly and didn’t snap at me. He just
told me to get out of the way. I can’t think of a much
more humiliating circumstance to be in than that.
That’s the kind of stuff that is told to ten-year-olds
that are just learning. I’ve sorted more cows than
I could ever imagine and with that has come a lot
of mistakes, but today wasn’t a day that I made a
mistake.
What happened is that after he pointed at the cow,
he decided to let both of them go without informing
anyone else. I moved in to make the cut and got told
to get out of the way.
Kevin Weatherby
want to storm off or have a war of words…or even
yet, let’s just settle it like men.
If this wasn’t bad enough, it was double bad because
I’d asked for it. That morning, I’d asked God to help
me with a particular problem I had.
It’s kind of like the poem by Dylan Thomas:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Except my words were:
Do not grow gentle into that good day
Old rage should burn and stave at the close of
night;
Pride, hide against the dying words I pray.
Dying to self is never easy. Asking God to help you
die to self is not easy. Growing isn’t easy. None of it
easy. None.
The thing I’d asked for help with is my pride. Now
I don