And God Came Down

A few years ago one of our mares had an early August foal. That’s actually two or three months later than you’d ideally like a mare to give birth. We thought she had been bred quite a bit earlier than she was - if we had known she hadn’t settled earlier we would have pulled her out of the pasture with our stallion. But that didn’t happen, and so in the wee hours of the morning of August 6th - and it was cold & damp most of that month - we were awakened by the sound of the mares squeals. Because this was her first foal, and out of concern that she might be having difficulties foaling, I figured I better get out and make sure she was alright. I could tell by the direction of the noise that she had crossed the stream and was in the high grass, so I headed out that way and sure enough there she was, her foal already on the ground. Unfortunately as I drew closer the mare became nervous and decided it was time to head back across the stream. Now that wouldn’t have been a problem if she’d chosen to cross in one of the areas where the stream bed sloped more gently on both sides. But she decided to cross in one of the steeper places where her foal, once in the water, couldn’t climb back up the other bank!
And that’s where the problem began. I was pretty sure that if I left the two alone the foal would never get out. Our stream is spring fed, and it’s cold even in the summertime, and I knew the foal would chill quickly. But every time I started to get close the mare would become frantic and the foal would head into even deeper water. I must have spent close to half an hour in the stream myself, soaking wet, with the mare flashing back and forth, before I finally got the foal out safely without getting myself kicked in the process - actually, she might have gotten me in the head with a hoof. It would sure explain a lot.
Anyway, there was one point in the middle of that whole mess where I remember thinking to myself how frustrating it was that I couldn’t get that mare and her foal to understand that I was only there to help - if they would let me. And maybe it’s a sign that I’ve been a preacher for too long - or maybe God was whispering in my ear - but the very next thought that popped into my mind was this: I wonder how often God feels the same way about us - about you, and about me.
Now throughout that ordeal there was an intriguing side story taking place less than twenty yards away. You see, we still have the dam of this young mare who had just had her 1st foal, and the two mares are practically inseparable. And while I was trying to get close enough to fish the new foal out of the water, the older mare was standing guard on the other side of the stream, attempting to block the pathway down so that my wife couldn’t approach from that side. And that, I suppose, was my answer. If I could just have become a horse I might have been able to more easily communicate my intent - but of course I couldn’t do that.
But the scriptures tell us that was God was bound by no such restrictions. And so God considered our need, and counted the cost, and then came down. Emmanuel, God with us, for you, and for me. That we might understand, that we might know what God is really like, that we might embrace the life He offers us, and truly live both now and eternally. All of that, and more, John captures with those simple words. “And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.” And so God came down.
(excerpted from a Cowboy Church message December 3rd, 2008)