The Snubbing Post

Hebrews 12:1-2 Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.


When I come to Cowboy Church I often wear my cowboy hat. But to be honest wearing the hat feels a little uncomfortable.

Even though I’ve owned more than fifty horses and have ridden since I was a kid I feel like a fraud.

Especially when I hang out around real old-time cowboys like Art Harfman, Lincoln Blaine or Pat Headlen.

I often wish I’d grown up on a ranch. If I’d grown up punching cows, I’d have earned the right to wear this cowboy hat.

My past experiences hold me back from being comfortable in the present. I guess we all have some baggage. So I wear my cowboy hat to church but until then… it usually hangs on a peg.

A few years back I had an experience with a young horse that I will reflect on tonight. It was a warm spring day and went out to the pasture to catch up one of our three new horses. I had chosen that day to work with a little sorrel filly. We named her “Dilemma” when we brought her home from the Auction in Armstrong. There is something to say about being careful in your choice of names.

Dilemma wasn’t much to look at, just a skinny, wild-eyed three year old. We only paid $75.00 for her, but at times I was sure it was $74.50 too much. I slipped the halter over my shoulder, attempting to hide it with my arm as I walked toward the pasture, but the horses spotted it and galloped to the other side.

This was the hardest part of the job - trying to separate one of the skittish creatures in a five-acre field. If I’d grown up on a ranch, I would’ve learned to rope.

I chased after the animals, huffing and puffing as I zig and zagged. Sweat rolled down my back. One-by-one I let them out into the training area. Now I pushed them all back out until only Dilemma stood in the corner. Snorting, her eyes brimmed with fear. I looked at the ground, lowered my voice, and spoke slowly, “Good girl. You’re ok.” It took about twenty minutes and I finally got her into a 10 x 10 pen.

For the next half hour I’d take slow steps toward her, talking, watching her squirm, then taking a step back as I let her get used to me. She wanted no part of me. Her experience with us humans was limited to being separated from her herd, roped and penned, pushed into a trailer, shipped with a bunch of meat horses and dropped off at the auction.

My roping attempts just made her mad. So I gently pushed her into a corner where I had placed another panel to act as a squeeze. Slowly I brought the panel into place and squeezed her in so she could not hurt herself or me. As I touched her neck and shoulder her eyes were big and wide. Finally, she let me rub her neck with the rope. After a bit I placed the rope halter over her head and tied the knot. She stood like that for a bit. Hesitantly I released the squeeze and tried to lead her.

She wasn’t liking any of this. I took a deep breath and led her toward the round pen. She pulled back and swung her head back and forth. At that moment, I’d of paid someone to take herd improver of my hands. Changing my mind on the pen I tied her to the snubbing post.

Our snubbing post was, notice I said was? a five-foot-tall post firmly planted in the ground. An old inner tube acted as a give and take mechanism. Letting the post do it’s job I went for a coffee.

Suddenly she jumped straight into the air. She came down snorting and blowing, the whites of her eyes showing. I watched in shock. White flecks of foamed sweat flew in all directions.

Dilemma jumped forward and slammed into the snubbing post. It cracked. She hauled back again. Then she dug in with her hind legs, pulling backward. Her hind muscles tensed, the rope stretched—the inner tube strained to the max held tight—the rope halter tightened and then Crack! The snubbing post snapped, and the top of it whipped into Dilemma’s chest.

She swung around, the broken post, held fast by the inner tube and lead rope, slamming into her hindquarters. The dogs started barking and giving chase. The other horses in the pasture started running and bucking. What a zoo!

Dilemma in hysterics bolted down our mile long lane-way and turned on to an old logging road we called “Wood Cutter’s trail. She took that turn like she was rounding the last turn at the Kentucky Derby. Rocks and dust flying everywhere.

I ran to the pickup, got in, and fired it up. I followed that cloud of dust. Several miles later where the logging road had petered out in a bunch of Jack Pine there was Dilemma. White lather blanketed her from head to hoof. She stood calmly, munching grass. Next to her was the snubbing post, still securely tied to the rope.

She’d spooked because of her past experiences. The harder she ran from it, the harder the post beat her. When she quit running, she discovered that the post quit beating her. So instead of running from it, now she used it as a starting place.

Luke 9:62 No man, having put his hand to the plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.

As long as that horse’s mind set was back in the past she would be useless in the present. Tonight I’m taking Dilemma’s lesson to heart. I’m going to quit beating myself up with past experiences. I must learn that a person can focus so much on what did or didn’t happen in the past that it negatively affects your present state of being.  Therefore I will proudly wear my cowboy hat even though I haven’t been raised on a ranch.

Each time I help a my old-time cowboy friends moving their cattle, I earn the right to wear my hat.

Each time I help Art with butchering or drive him crazy with questions about the cowboy lifestyle, I earn the right to think of myself as a cowboy.

I will use my past experiences to give me the leg up I need to ride confidently into this wilderness called life.

Philippians 3:13 Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before,