Once again, it’s three in the morning. It’s been a while since I was awakened in the early morning hours with something pressing from the inside seeking a page on which to land. So here I am, wanting to “get it out” so I can go back to much needed rest before daybreak.
An odd analogy started formulating in my mind, after praying with a young man who once was a dare-devil motor-cross competitor, now looking for work, and applying for a job as an exercise rider for race horses. I’d met him a few times in a rural farming- community of Kentucky. He’d always impressed me as humble and quiet in spirit, but rumor had it that this young man was quite fearless and eager to prove his metal. He’d been the first to ride a rescued Thoroughbred when I didn’t know much about the origin or history of the horse, when I’d needed to find out what she “knew”, in a bid to help find the mare a new purpose and home.
My only experience with a motorcycle had been a short-lived ride on the back of a Harley after high school, when a “boy” friend had tried to impress me by “laying it low” around a corner. Shortly thereafter, neither the guy or the bike figured into my long-term life plan.
And although I’d ridden horses throughout my life, it wasn’t until I owned my first horse, who happened to be a two-year-old Thoroughbred mare, that I learned what it felt like to have gears shifting beneath my seat before “take off”. It has been exhilarating, but also sobering when the flight got reigned-in to a reluctant stop. After spending a few years in Kentucky, where a jockey or two shared stories about horses with wings on their feet, and the inherent risks involved, I was thankful to still be walking.
I’d met bikers who seemed more responsible as navigators and riders than the one personal experience I’d had as a young adult, while driving on a cross country trip a couple of years ago out west. And more recently, my path had crossed another young man’s, whose positive energy as a war-veteran and a biker impressed me.
A few days ago I embarked on a mission to bring a former race horse “home”, and as I left the house to clear my head and walk my dogs, a white cloud shaped like a horse leaping out of the gate ahead of a dark storm front, appeared clearly to me overhead. These seemingly disjoint elements came together in my thoughts:
Riding the Wind
A bike, a horse
One shined to polish, the other groomed to shine
Both mounts of fine-tuned machinery,
“Movers” responding to imperceptible cues;
One guided by handle-bars, the other by reigns
Transitioned by shifts in weight
Coaxed by spirits
Destined to ride the wind.
The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” (John 3:8)
“Behold He comes, riding on the clouds, shining like the sun, at the trumpet’s call;
Lift your voice, it’s the year of Jubilee, and out of Zion’s hill salvation comes.”
(“Days of Elijah”, worship song lyrics by Robin Mark)
“Look, he is coming with the clouds,” and “every eye will see him, even those who pierced him”; and all peoples on earth “will mourn because of him.” (Revelation 1:7)
“I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. (Revelation 19:11)