"Dappled Pony"

He rode a dappled pony,

With a flaxen mane and tail,

The kind that’s easy on the eye,

A mousy gray, no ail.

And when folks saw the pony,

That the rig was buckaroo,

Assumed the cowboy ridin’,

Knew what he’s s’posed to do.

And we weren’t disappointed,

He was handy with a rope,

Knew how to pitch a Houlihan,

And with the cattle cope.

But we really didn’t know him,

Couldn’t tell much ‘bout his age,

He seldom gave opinion,

Or advice that you’d call sage.

Just quiet, kept it to himself,

Friendly, though, and kind,

The more he worked there with us,

His type was hard to find.

Late one night we asked him,

To talk about his life,

He seemed surprised a little bit,

His words shocked us that night.

He’d done time in Montana,

Said he had killed a man,

But later he was pardoned,

By the governor’s own hand.

He said he’d had a wife once,

But she died giving birth,

To the only child he ever had,

Beside each other in the dirt.

He said there was a preacher,

Who helped him while inside,

Spoke to him of Jesus,

Of His love deep and wide.

Since then a true believer,

But careful with his words,

Tried to show the reason,

His story should be heard.

‘Cause pardon was the message,

Why Jesus died and rose,

God’s grace for sin-sick cowboys,

Especially for those.

We sat around the campfire,

Quiet and mighty still,

But I can still remember,

The way it made me feel.

He rode a dappled pony,

With a flaxen mane and tail,

The cowboy told his story,

And saved my soul from hell.

“…I believed and therefore I spoke…” (2 Cor. 4:13, NLT)

We may be quiet and reserved like the cowboy who rode the dappled pony. But the time comes when we speak up. We believe, therefore we speak. Speak what? Our testimony. He works in our hearts, and from the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, according to Jesus. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. Always. If the witness never comes out, then it’s really not there in the first place. Is that judgmental? No, because that’s exactly what Jesus meant when he said if we would not confess Him before men, He would not confess us before the heavenly Father. In other words, I don’t earn my salvation by speaking, but I do show I really have it by speaking. I believe in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead, and CONFESS with my mouth Jesus is Lord. Confession is made unto salvation. And what if, like the ex-offender in the poem, we lived so well someone might ask us about it. What’s your story? Tell us about it. His horse got their attention, but his life proved to them that he had a story to tell. And when the time came, he did. Witness invited. Witness delivered.

Lord, help us share the Good News in Jesus’ name.

Art by Tim Cox, timcox.com. Used by permission. Thanks, Tim, and God bless you.