Hope

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled—https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812

In Memory Of ...

It’s been kinda rough around here. My father-in-law passed away last week. We, like so many others, are wading through the waves of grief, yet holding on to the treasured memories of a man who left his mark on “this side of the fence.”

So, in honor of him, Henry Joe Repka, I decided to repost this story—the first story I posted on this blog. Henry loved his family, loved his life as a lifelong, accomplished musician, and, boy, did he love his dogs!

I invite you to ride along with us as we remember a very special man…
                                
                                       Chico and the Man



 "The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all"—Psalm 34:17-19.

My father-in-law, Henry, loves dogs. Years ago his original "dog plan" was to breed Rat Terriers as a business adventure (yes, adventure). However, as the puppies were born, he became so attached to them he couldn't bear to sell them. His brood grew to a lively bunch of seven. I have fond memories of watching him walk his dogs next to the cow pasture. With Henry leading the way, his little entourage followed him like the Pied Piper. Or, when he drove his "Mule" to the back end of the property, one of his bunch would proudly sit in the passenger seat—mouth open, tongue hanging, and ears blowing back in the breeze.
 
Henry also has a huge heart for homeless or unwanted dogs no matter what size or breed. As each one of the little Rat Terriers eventually moved on to the "Happy Hunting Ground of Heaven," a stray or unwanted dog would, without fail, show up "on the door step."   
 
He discovered Smokey, abandoned and wandering, around a gas station pump. She stole Henry's heart and became his constant companion for many years.
 
When the inevitable time came and she passed peacefully to join her former companions, my father-in-law was heartbroken. It is never easy to lose a loved one, be it human or animal, no matter what the age or reason.
 
It was a lonely drive as he traveled to the family farm for his monthly visit. He tried to steel himself as he passed every rest and potty stop that he and Smokey would frequent during that long trip. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "I can't deal with this," he cried. "Lord, You're going to have to help me." He drove on to the farm, parked his car, and wearily began to unload his things. 
 
Suddenly something caught his attention—a tiny figure next to the farmhouse door. He moved in for a closer inspection and discovered a lively little Chihuahua investigating the porch.
 
Daily inquiries were made until it was apparent that this little guy was homeless … dumped on the County Road to fend for himself. At this realization, Henry immediately made him part of the family and named him Chico.
 
Chico has proven to be a family project. Scared and defensive, no one could get close without him yelping. One day my mother-in-law, Betty, was lying on the couch and her hand slipped to the ground … right next to Chico. A "Grrrrrrrr!" immediately resounded from somewhere under the coffee table—her hand pushing the boundaries of his comfort zone.
 
However, as Henry and Betty persevered in their patient care of this little dog, Chico began to progress from whimpering at them to whimpering for them when they were out of his sight. The latest feat was actually picking him up, which,had not been a tolerable move until now. With heavy BBQ gloves to protect against defensive teeth, they crossed this last hurdle. But they needn't have bothered with the gloves. Chico lay perfectly peaceful in their "armory" … no animosity, whatsoever, expressed. He has now become Henry's faithful companion, following him everywhere and sleeping next to him in a little blanketed, cardboard box next to the bed.
 
The Lord displayed his grace by bringing these lives together: one with a broken heart, the other abused and homeless. He knows that in this life we will go through trials and heartaches. But He promises, through Jesus, to deliver us out of them all in victory and with strength. His love is so great that it will reach out in answer to a simple prayer—even bringing an abandoned little dog to a man's door step to help ease the pain of a loss. (1 John 4:14-16; Lamentations 3:21-23)  

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Shara's book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational true stories of God's encouragement on the trail less-traveled: https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

No Way Out?

Funny how thoughts of past adventures drift into your memory when you need encouragement. Many people nowadays are facing pretty hefty challenges. Our family is no exception. But this verse keeps popping up in my head, “And they overcame him (Satan) by the blood of the Lamb (Jesus) and the word of their testimony..."—Revelation 12:11).

In tough times, I am comforted when I reflect on all the times God has shown up in this adventure called life. And, frankly, I can’t recall any time He has let us down. Through illness challenges (both human and horse), lack challenges (no truck), family challenges, on-the-road challenges, ministry challenges, people packaged with challenges, on and on, there has always been answers…aka hope. Answers come in ways we expect or ways we never thought of (and every variation in between), but all answers come from a God who is incredibly kind and full of wisdom.

So, I have to remind myself of His faithful goodness with each confrontation that rears its ugly head: focusing on the faith of a good report, even when I can’t see the outcome clearly; focusing on the One who makes all things possible, even when there seems to be no way out.

The following simple, yet profound testimony insists on making a recurring appearance in my thoughts. It reminds me of God’s grace and power, and I figured it may encourage you too:

Back in 2005, before our living-in-our-horse trailer-days, Bruce (my husband) and I loaded up my diesel truck with snacks, sleeping bags, and a pup tent and headed cross-country. We sing/play Christian Country music, so concerts were scheduled along the way during our round trip from Texas to Wisconsin to California and back to Texas again.

Bruce and I love to stay in and explore National and State Parks. So after our concerts in Wisconsin, we set out for The Badlands of South Dakota.
 

As we traveled through The Badlands, we gawked at the strange, unearthly look of the landscape. It looked like a movie set from Star Wars!

 

We stopped and snapped pictures, enjoying this unfamiliar “moon” scape. However, we grew increasingly wary of the skies and the ominous storm brewing in the distance. But the storm seemed far off and was actually quite beautiful to watch with its swirling clouds and lightning show.

We made our way through the hills and down into a valley, keeping an eye out for a campground sign. A stampede delayed us a bit, so it was rather late by the time we spotted the campground entrance (see last month's post: Bison in The Badlands).

Creeping through a sleeping campground is a tad difficult in a diesel truck, but we trekked to the far end of the place, away from the other campers.

We set up camp and prepared for a good night’s sleep. Glancing at the skies again, we caught our breath—the humongous thunderstorm we had been watching changed course and headed straight at us! There was no way out. We hunkered down in our tiny, nylon tent and listened as the rumble of thunder drew closer.

Now in South Dakota, there’s a lot of open ground. And, here we sat in our flimsy tent with little to no protection. The line of that storm stretched so wide, there was no way it would miss us. About the only thing we could do was pray. And pray we did! We rebuked that storm in the Name of Jesus, then prayed and thanked the Lord for protecting us (albeit through heavily beating hearts).

We tried not to count the seconds between the flashes of lightening and the claps of thunder, but it was hard to ignore. By then the flashes and the thunder became almost as one. We prayed harder, thanking God again for our protection and that the storm had no authority where we were.

 


Suddenly the wind came up…blowing against the storm! My first thought was the verse in Psalms: “He makes His angels winds.” I told Bruce my thought.

“Hey! The Holy Spirit just told me the same thing!” he said.

We breathed a sigh of relief. The storm stopped within a short distance of our camp and blew around the campground in a circle. (Psalm 104:4)

As the thunder continued to roll and the lightning danced, we peeked out our tent flap. Directly above, we gazed at stars twinkling in a canopy of clear, black sky.

Safe and dry, we settled in for that good night’s rest.

 

 

(For You have been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat; For the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall—Isaiah 25:4.)

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Shara's book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational true stories of God's encouragement on the trail less-traveled: https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

Behind the Scenes

“For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts”— Isaiah 55: 9. 

Twelve hours and counting, we drove on into the night. You’d think it would be somewhat easy finding a rodeo grounds in the West to hole up for the night with a horse ... not.

We were headed for the northernmost parts of Nevada to work and minister with the buckaroos (cowboys) on their remote ranches. Our original plan was to stop for the night somewhere in Utah, but we couldn’t find a place on our route. So, on we trekked into the evening searching the Internet and road signs for a rodeo grounds in Nevada.

Finally, our Internet search paid off. Struggling to keep our weary eyes open, we headed for the rodeo grounds in the small gambling town of West Wendover. As we drove around the fence, we prayed that the gate would be unlocked. Rounding the corner, the gate was wide open. “Thank You, Jesus,” we breathed in unison, and squeezed our big rig through the small entrance. We shut down our truck, turned our horse, Nocona, out into a cow pen, and settled in— for about 10 minutes.

I glanced out the window and spotted two sets of rig lights inching down the fence line and turning onto the grounds. Oh, please don’t park right next to us. Dog-tired, we just wanted some peace and quiet.

Bruce and I looked on as they pulled in— right next to us. The man stepped out of his truck and headed for our door. As I cracked it open and peeked through, my mouth dropped. It was our friends from New York who had recently moved to California! What were they doing in Nevada? Their entire family, horses, dogs, and the whole shebang were packed into two vehicles and two horse trailers.

“Jason? No way!” we exclaimed, throwing the door open. “What are y’all doing here?”

Jason grinned as we exchanged bear hugs and handshakes. His wife and their four kids piled out of the vehicles and ran to our rig. Through happy tears, our friends described the exhausting events of their evening.

They were moving back to New York to settle some things. Their day had not been a good one. Planning to stay in Utah as well, they called ahead to a horse motel, but it was booked up. They, too, prayed for a rodeo grounds to spend the night. Tired and hungry, they also figured they’d have to spend the night in their vehicles just to keep an eye on their horses.

As they crept around the fence line, the kids had spotted our rig. “That’s Bruce and Shara!”, “That’s Bruce and Shara!”
“Kids, no, it can’t be.”
“YES, it IS! IT’S THEM!” they insisted.
Sure enough, as they drove closer, they recognized our Paint horse, Nocona, and realized it was indeed us.

As we helped our friends unload their herd, we assured them we would be that “watchful eye” so they could get some food and a good night’s sleep in town.

God is so good! Greatly encouraged, we all continued our treks the next day knowing that the Lord is always working on our behalf, even when we can’t see what’s going on “behind the scenes.”  

 (Proverbs 16:9--A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.)

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled:  https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T
 







 

Power of the Sword

 

"For the word of God is living and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart”—Hebrews 4:12.  

My insides lurched as I clenched the receiver, trying to wrap my mind around my brother's words on the other end of the line.

"Dad's pretty ill, Shara," my brother said. "He's been diagnosed with a debilitating disease that affects the muscles in his eyes and throat. The condition could be life-threatening. The doctors gave him some medication they hope will work, but his speech is already severely impaired." He paused. "It doesn't look good."

I called my parents’ house and talked to my Mom. While on the phone, my dad suddenly motioned to her to call 9-1-1. That was only the beginning.

The year was 2006 and everything we considered normal life abruptly came to a stand-still. Leaving Bruce to "hold down the fort" in Texas—tending to our horses and music ministry—I flew to California. In one phone call, I had suddenly become the foreman, secretary, and bookkeeper in my dad's construction business, as well as a caregiver when he was at home.

My plan to stay a week and a half turned into two months. My dad would get treated at the hospital, then be released. All would seem to be going well and then a few days later, I'd either be calling the ambulance or rushing him to the hospital myself. I finally quit booking flights home because I kept having to cancel them.

I needed help beyond the physical. I needed God Himself to show up in a big way.

Sitting in the emergency room once again, I stared motionless at the scene around me: Doctors and nurses hurried from one section to another; A gunshot victim groaned through the partition on one side; And there was some sort of unidentifiable commotion on the other. I looked over at my 75-year-old dad—a very resilient man—whom I had only seen really ill probably once in my entire life. It was nearly unbearable to see him in a hospital bed with a bunch of tubes hooked to him. I choked back the tears and tried to stay strong. What was going to happen? The tightening sensation of fear threatened to suffocate me. I felt so alone, so vulnerable. All the Bible verses and sermons I had heard went straight out the window—I remembered none of them. At that moment, all I could say was "Jesus, help me."

A "still, small voice" stirred within me, "Didn't you bring your Bible?" I reached for my bag and yes, there it was. Blinded by the fear that gripped me, I never saw the tabs and bookmarks that revealed my favorite verses. I just opened my Bible and numbly, randomly started flipping. On my second "flip" it opened, miraculously, to 1 Corinthians 2:5: "that your faith should not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God." Encouraged, I flipped one more time and again, miraculously, the pages fell open to 2 Corinthians 5:7: "for we walk by faith, not by sight." The Lord knew I would need these two verses that night and throughout the entire two months. I grabbed a hold of them with a white-knuckled grip.

His Presence in the emergency room jarred me loose from the paralyzing grasp of fear. His encouragement caused me to reach for Him through His Word, giving me hope even through distressing doctors’ reports and procedures; the stress of running a construction company; and other unthinkable situations that tested me during that time.

God's Word saved me and in turn, saved my dad.
 
It happened one night as I was sitting with him in his hospital room. Suddenly, for no reason, his blood pressure shot up into the danger zone. The Lord’s urgency spurred my heart as He told me to start reading His Word—out loud! I grabbed my Bible.

By this time, my dad's face was beet-red. I looked at his face, looked up at his patient monitor, looked down at my Bible, and started reading. As I read, a nurse came in with a shot. Lord, no! Please, no more medications for my dad! Now, I have no medical training whatsoever, but I sensed in my spirit that shot was the wrong thing to do. I was close to panicking as the nurse stood there with the needle poised. All I could do was sit there, read, and pray. Curiously, though, the nurse wasn't moving. She quietly watched the monitor, and I kept reading the Word. As suddenly as his blood pressure rose, it dropped. I stared in amazement as my dad recovered and he was safe. The nurse, visibly relieved, said, "Good, I really didn't want to give him this," and walked out of the room.

Later in the evening, I found her at the nurses’ station and asked her what had happened. She confirmed there was no explanation as to why my dad's blood pressure sky-rocketed. And then added thoughtfully, "I heard you reading the Bible when I walked in."
"Yeah, I just felt I needed to," I replied.
"Well, I’m quite sure that is why your dad's blood pressure came down."

She then shared something with me I will never forget. "In all the years I have worked at this hospital," she said, "I have seen powerful things happen when the Word of God is read to patients. In fact, I have seen a marked difference between the patients who have the Word read to them and the ones who don't."

Wow. The Word of God, as it proclaims, is life.

From then on, I read to my dad every day without fail. I knew for a fact now that God's Word spoken out loud was a powerful force. Sometimes he was awake, sometimes he was asleep. But I continued to read, if only in a whisper, putting his name in all the personal spots of the verses: "John Bueler, Sr. will live and not die"—Psalm 118:17; "No weapon formed against John Bueler, Sr. will prosper"—Isaiah 54:17, etc. (Hebrews 4:12-16; Psalm 119:50; Isaiah 55:11)

Today, my dad is recovering very well. In fact, his doctor says, "He's a miracle." She called the Mayo Clinic and other medical facilities that have dealt with this disease, and my dad is the first person they have ever heard of who has recovered this quickly ... if at all.

Praise God! "Don't rest on the wisdom of men, but the power of God,” and "walk by faith (in Him), not by sight"!
(Isaiah 53:5; Romans 15:13; Ephesians 6:10-18)

This year (2017) my dad turned 86. Not to say he hasn’t had any more challenges in various things (don’t we all?—life’s a journey). But the one thing that never fails in facing these challenges is the Word of God; The action that wields that Sword is believing the promises He gave. Through a most recent challenge, we all were in fervent prayer … and in the Word, running to our only source of Life. And God spoke: “Do not be afraid of sudden fear”; “Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place; “You will not be ashamed” … and we weren’t.

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled: https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812

The Biker Bar

Funny how something simple triggers a hankering to visit unknown places and to experience new adventures. So it was when we saw the cover of a Christian magazine. Our friend, a cowboy pastor, posed on the cover with a biker, also a pastor.

Intrigued, I flipped the pages to the article. This biker-pastor sounded like the real deal, and the Holy Spirit nudged Bruce and I to visit his church … in a bar. A biker bar. Cool!

Main street was quiet in the small town of Meridian, Idaho as we slowly drove around to the back of the bar to park. We strolled down the sidewalk passing motorcycles of every style neatly lined up side by side with their back tires against the front curb.

We didn’t know what to expect. Cautiously we opened the old wooden door, letting our eyes adjust to the dark room. As we stood in the doorway, we figured we’d be as conspicuous as a neon light with our cowboy boots and hats amidst the leathers and dew rags of the bikers. And, I’m pretty sure, we were the only ones who didn’t sport tats somewhere on our bodies.

Rough-looking, tatted, leathered, rode-hard parishioners graced the dim room with their warmth. And we felt more welcome there than we had in the “religious” establishments with their new carpet and fancy digs. We found a couple of stools next to a video game and settled in with our backs against a vintage juke box. 

Before the service started, I decided to use the restroom and made my way through the crowd. As I opened the restroom door, I nearly collided with a woman on her way out. The tattoos on her face, hands and arms, her wild hair, and her generally tough exterior belied the light and peace in her eyes.

My first thought? “Whoa, I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley.” But looking in those eyes and hearing her joyful, accepting, friendly greeting reminded me once again to never judge a book by its cover.

Most of the congregation had been rode-hard-and-put-away-wet.  But they’d also found Jesus. God’s grace had saved them from a very hard life.

The service started with a guy and his guitar. I looked around the stage and noticed a drum set and other evidence that this church had a band. And yet, there was just this guy and his guitar. You could tell he loved the Lord, but he was nervous, apologizing for messing up a song as he started over on his guitar. He did his best filling in for the worship team.

His voice may not have been American Idol quality, and maybe he more than once fumbled around on his guitar. But what touched me was his heart—it lit up the room. I smiled as God revealed, yet again, that the performance is not as important as a person’s heart.

We all joined him in one accord, singing “Turn your eyes upon Jesus.”  How appropriate. I caught a movement to my left, and an old biker rose from his chair with something in his hand. An American flag dew rag adorned the top of his gray head, and his long ponytail swung down over the biker colors of his leather jacket. He lifted the object in his hands to his lips and the sweet, earthy tones of a harmonica filled the room. He played in perfect time with the guitar and voices.

It was simple, raw.  And the Holy Spirit infiltrated that old bar. Tears welled in my eyes as the peace of God soothed my hurting soul. All the disappointment from dealing with other “worship” teams and churches with their critical, performance-based attitudes melted away. This is how it should be, I thought. This is how God always intended it to be—simple, yet powerful.

The old biker danced from one foot to the other in the joy of the Lord as his harmonica sang. And then he lowered his hands and quoted Matthew 18:20, “Where two or more are gathered in My Name, there will I be.”  And we all knew that Jesus stood with us in that dark, musty, beer-stained biker bar. 

The rest of that day continued to be one of the best times we’ve ever had with fellow believers. No pomp or parades. No ruses or airs. It was uncomplicated. It was genuine. It was Jesus.

The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen (2 Corinthians 13:14).

 www.ponyexpressministry.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore. 

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


Concert in the Cookhouse

I stomped the cold from my feet and rubbed my hands together, feeling warmth creep into them. Fog billowed from my breath and from my horse’s nose. I put my foot in the stirrup and swung my leg over the saddle. “Yow, that’s cold!” I squeaked as I sat in the seat—at 7:00 in the morning the temperature hadn’t risen out of the teens.

My husband, Bruce and I were invited to this fall roundup by our friend Bo, a seasoned buckaroo (Nevada lingo for cowboy). Hundreds of cattle grazed across thousands of acres in the rugged, unforgiving mountains of northern Nevada. Several volunteers, stockholders, and hired buckaroos worked together to gather these cattle for shipment to their winter feeding grounds.

Bruce and I sing Christian Country music and travel full-time on the road with our two  horses. God had given us this awesome opportunity to ride with these folks, and we jumped at the chance. However, he saw an even bigger picture than merely volunteering to help with the cows.

                                      No Wimping Out

Saddles creaked and horses champed their bits as we waited for the foreman to assign groups of riders their sections of land. The goal was to drive or "sweep" the cattle from the high country and meet at the bottom pasturelands at the same time … or nearly. Most of these cows are as wild as the country they run in, and this type of gathering keeps them moving forward. 

While gazing across the haphazard landscape, I was grateful for the instruction we had received from Bo about the cattle and country. I realized we were living examples of Hebrews 10:24-25: “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds … encouraging one another.“ Bruce and I were strangers to this place, but the Lord had prepared us for this job through Bo. Receiving our section assignment, we spread out to cover our area.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!” Philippians 4:13 flew from my mouth as my horse and I plunged down the side of a steep draw to gather cattle at the bottom. At the same time, “Whoohooohoooohoooo!” echoed across the mountains as the buckaroos revealed their location. I urged my horse around the cattle and drove my mini-herd through the small canyon.

We rode narrow mountainside trails that appeared to be carved by a goat and skirted bogs and boulders to keep the herd tight. I picked grit out of my teeth and blew a breath of relief when I saw Bo with his cows at the meeting point. We joined Bruce farther down the mountain.

                                         No Offense Taken 

Bruce and I have learned that the opportunities the Lord gives us are not just to minister to others. Opportunities also arise to knock the bark off us.           

“You’re late!” bellowed the foreman as he raced by us on his horse. Startled, Bruce spun around in his saddle and stared after him as he thundered past and disappeared down the prairie.

We knew there had been some confusion concerning the instructions of the day, but it appeared we were blamed for something out of our control. Our blood boiled. Angry words churned inside us: “How dare he!”; “It’s not our fault!” We rode in an indignant fog for about a mile. Then, like cold water on a hot flame, the Holy Spirit’s still, small voice impressed, “Let it go.”

We realized it was foolish for us to ride in offense, recognizing Satan’s temptation to tear down the relationships we had already built. Swallowing our pricked pride, we decided not to take the bait and continued our search for the cows in our section.

                                     The Bigger Picture

It was a good thing we let it go. Later that day the bigger picture unfolded—a stockholder asked Bruce and me if we would give a concert in their cookhouse.

The next evening as we set up our sound system next to the kitchen counter, we thanked the Lord that we had overcome the challenges from the previous days. When you ride in someone else’s world, you either earn their respect or you don’t. This was the ultimate reason God sent us here.

One by one, the entire crew filed into the warm cookhouse while the smell of fresh coffee and homemade cookies drifted through the air. They took their places at the picnic-style tables or lounge chairs along the wall. One old cowboy even relaxed in his own recliner.

We began with a lively hymn medley and continued through a list of songs as the Holy Spirit led. The demeanor of the more hardened ranch hands softened, their toes tapping to the beat. One rambunctious buckaroo had wanted us to sing one of his favorite country songs as we rode with him through the aspens the previous day. We didn’t know the song but, when the concert was scheduled, we determined to learn it. We sang it that night and dedicated it to him. He couldn’t believe it. His eyes brightened, and his heart opened to God’s message in the other songs we sang.

We watched in awe as the Holy Spirit moved through that bunch. Alcohol was passed from one to another, but one by one, weather-worn hands waved it away. We hadn’t said a thing—we just sang.

We intended to end the concert within an hour to respect the crew’s early morning call, but they didn’t care a bit about hitting their bunks early. Their stomping, clapping and laughter rocked the cookhouse. And by the time we wrapped up the hour with what we thought was our final song, shouts of  “Encore! Encore!” resounded around the room—even the rougher ones were giving us the thumbs up.

A buckaroo’s girlfriend slowly raised her hand. “Can you sing 'Amazing Grace'?” she requested.
“Absolutely,” we replied, as others nodded in agreement.

As the words and melody wound through the crowd, the peace of the Holy Spirit wrapped around troubled souls like a warm comforter. Tears streamed down faces; eyes stared off in deep thought; heads bowed, some nodded.  God’s grace and power were palpable in that old building.

We finished the last song, and no one wanted to leave. Groups of two and three gathered here and there talking, laughing, eating cookies, and sipping coffee.

The ranch foreman hailed us as we loaded our sound system and music gear into our truck. “Thank you,” he said. “We needed this. It gets really tense here around this time.” He smiled. “And, hey, you can ride with us anytime, and you’re more than welcome to sing here next year too.”

We are honored to answer God’s call to face the challenging tasks that introduce us to the ones living along the trails less-traveled. No one is too far from God’s gracious hand. As Acts 13:47 encourages: "For this is what the Lord has commanded us: ’I have made you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the ends of the earth.'” We pray that those stockholders, buckaroos, and volunteers never forget the love of God they experienced in that old 1800s cookhouse on a lonely road of Nevada’s high plains. 

 

 www.ponyexpressministry.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore. 

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


To Judge or Not To Judge?

It’s interesting how a Facebook post, a road sign, or someone’s general comment sparks one’s motivation into a full-blown, in-depth Bible study.  This particular spark came from a Facebook post and inspired my husband, Bruce, into the following research. 

There is a trend infiltrating a lot of churches today. It could be labelled, “We don’t judge!”  Well, if you've happened across this little confusing mantra, I encourage you to read on.  I know this study set things pretty straight for me …

Guest Post by Bruce Repka:

Let us not therefore judge one another any more: but judge this rather, that no man put a stumbling block or an occasion to fall in his brother's way. - Romans 14:13

And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all judgment; - Philippians 1:9

Are these two verses in opposition to one another? Is this a scriptural contradiction? Absolutely not. Are we, as the church, to judge or not to judge? Are we to use godly judgement, biblical judgement, or are we to live and let live allowing in the church a mindset of "anything goes?" 

To answer these questions we must first have an understanding of the definition of the word “judge."

The word “judge" found in Romans 14:13 is the greek word 2919 krino  which means to distinguish, i.e. decide (mentally or judicially); by implication, to try, condemn, punish:--avenge, conclude, condemn, damn, decree, determine, esteem, judge, go to (sue at the) law, ordain, call in question, sentence to, think.

The word "judgement" found in Philippians 1:9 is the greek word 144 aisthesis = perception, i.e. (figuratively) discernment:--judgment. 

This word has it's foundations in the greek word 143 aisthanomai of uncertain derivation; to apprehend (properly, by the senses):--perceive.

Then we also have a form of the word "judge" in 1 Corinthians 14:29 - "Let the prophets speak two or three, and let the other judge."

This word "judge" is the greek word 1252 diakrino; to separate thoroughly, i.e. (literally and reflexively) to withdraw from, or (by implication) oppose; figuratively, to discriminate (by implication, decide), or (reflexively) hesitate:--contend, make (to) differ(-ence), discern, doubt, judge, be partial, stagger, waver.

This word also has it's foundations in the greek word 2919 krino (see above)

So in summary, we can biblically define the word "judge" as meaning the following:

distinguish, decide, conclude, decree, determine, esteem, call in question, think, perception, discernment, separate thoroughly. 

OR: try, condemn, punish:--avenge, condemn, damn, sentence to, discriminate.

These are two groups of very different definitions. All these words are translated from the original greek to the english word “judge."

Therefore,  each use of the word "judge" in scripture must be examined and defined in CONTEXT as a whole of what is being said. If we resort to a conclusion that we as the church, disciples of Jesus Christ, must NEVER judge, then that would mean that we would never be allowed to call into question, decide, think, perceive or discern. If we are to never discern, that would mean we would have to reject and ignore the Holy Spirit, as "discerning of spirits" is a gift and anointing of the Holy Spirit.

If we are not to decide, discern or call into question, then that would mean there are many instances given in scripture that we will have to ignore and remove from our midst. Instructions and scriptures such as the following:

Let the prophets speak two or three, and let the other judge.

I Corinthians 14:29

If we are to not properly judge prophecy, that would mean we as the church would have to tolerate and accept any false prophet and false prophecy in our midst simply because there is no longer a standard to think, discern, perceive or call into question anything that is uttered by any so-called "prophet" or false prophet who "prophesies" in the name of the Lord. We would no longer require the lens of scripture in which to view and/or confirm or decide who among us is a true prophet of God or a charlatan. 

Sadly, this is already happening and has been happening in much of the "church."

Secondly, if we turn off and do away with godly, scriptural judgement, then we have to ignore biblical instructions such as the following:

Them that sin rebuke before all, that others also may fear. - 1 Timothy 5:20

Preach the word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long-suffering and doctrine. - II Timothy 4:2

This witness is true. Wherefore rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the faith; - Titus 1:13

These things speak, and exhort, and rebuke with all authority. Let no man despise thee. - Titus 2:15

For if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged. - 1 Corinthians 11:31

First cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye. - Matthew 7:5

And thou hast tried them which say they are apostles, and are not, and hast found them liars: - Revelation 2:2

Without Godly, scriptural "judgement" (discernment, perception, thinking, distinguishing, calling into question) then the church can no longer:

1. Rebuke

2. Recognize and deal with sin

3. Enforce sound doctrine

4. Apply biblical correction

5. Deal with sin in our own lives

6. Set those free who are held in the destructive grips of sin

7. Test and try deceiving spirits

8. Be the church

The flip side of "judgment" is to try, condemn, punish, damn, sentence, discriminate.

This form of judgement is the judgement of God, which we must leave up to Him. This is not to say that we do not warn those and try to save those who are headed toward destruction. But if we are to no longer "judge" in any sense of the word, then we can no longer warn anyone of the impending destruction they are headed towards. Because, no longer discerning, perceiving or thinking—everyone is OK. There is no longer a biblical standard for what being a "Christian" is. It's "anything goes." Whatever works for you is fine with the church and with God. There is no condemnation for those in Christ. It doesn't matter if we walk after the flesh or the spirit. After all, what did those archaic scribes of scripture know anyway?

Congratulations, church. This is exactly where we are today. We no longer talk about and deal with sin. We no longer use our discernment, think with our own minds, call into question unbiblical practices and doctrines, perceive wrong teaching and wrong spirits. We no longer conclude that there are false prophets among us, false spirits in our midst, those who are offering "strange fire" and leading many astray. Yes, the infiltration of the politically correct doctrine of "no judgment" whatsoever has escorted much of the church into an apostate, drunken, fallen, lukewarm, unrepentant, defiled, miserable state. 

Jesus has stood at the door knocking, but we esteem the tickling of our ears and therefore refuse to let Him in. We refuse to be rebuked and chastened and therefore allow all manner of sin and leaven in the camp. We dare not let the Bible get in our way of what we believe. We are proud of our preaching of a different gospel, a different Jesus and a salvation without repentance, transformation and sanctification. After all, we have "evolved" and are so much more "spiritual" than those whose examples we read of in the book of Acts who walked with and were taught by Jesus. We gladly accept, promote and anoint for service those who love their sin and refuse to repent. We unashamedly hang onto mantra's such as "don't judge me because I sin differently than you." 

Sadly, much of the church are comfortable being slaves to sin as we proudly and desperately cling to our Romans 7 way of life. 

What then? shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but under grace? God forbid. Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves slaves to obey, his slaves ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness? - Romans 6:15-16

Jesus answered them, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin. And the slave abideth not in the house for ever: but the Son abideth ever. If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” - John 8:34-36

The failure to understand and properly judge within the church has really revolutionized, enlightened and liberated the Body of Christ, don't ya think?

(Copyright 2016 - www.ponyexpressministry.com)

Welcome to my first blog post!

At long last I’m launching myself into the blogosphere. So, how about some encouragement throughout your month? Welcome to my blog: Trail Tails. The way I figure it, we all need to be encouraged in this daily adventure we call life.  I, personally, love stories about how God shows up in our everyday lives, helping us along our trail.  And I love to laugh.

  . 

My life is fairly interesting.  My husband, Bruce and I sing Christian Country music and sing/minister all over the western United States.  We’ve been living on the road full-time in our living quarters horse trailer for about nine years. Needless to say, we and our two horses, Rocky and Nocona (aka The Boys) have had many adventures.  Some of those stories I’ve compiled in a book, Walk Like A Warrior: Inspirational true stories of God’s encouragement on the trail less-traveled (available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.). And still other stories have been sold to magazines. I also enjoy sharing the stories of others.

I invite you to enjoy my blog with its adventures (ours and others) and the pictures. I also welcome your input: Have a question? I’ll be quick to answer (If I don’t, you’ll know we’re galavanting around the backcountry and returning with more stories.);  Or, have a bit of constructive criticism? I’ll don my thick skin with “ears up.”

I picked this first story because I just felt it would be an encouragement to many that, in God’s eyes, you always matter.  And thanks for hanging out with me for awhile.

Chico and the Man

"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all."-Psalm 34:17-19

My father-in-law, Henry, loves dogs. Years ago his original "dog plan" was to breed Rat Terriers as a business adventure (yes, adventure). However, as the puppies were born, he became so attached to them he couldn't bear to sell them. His brood grew to a lively bunch of seven. I have fond memories of watching him walk his dogs next to the cow pasture. With Henry leading the way, his little entourage followed him like the Pied Piper. Or, when he drove his "Mule" to the back end of the property, one of his bunch would proudly sit in the passenger seat—mouth open, tongue hanging, and ears blowing back in the breeze.  

Henry also has a huge heart for homeless or unwanted dogs no matter what size or breed. As each one of the little Rat Terriers eventually moved on to the "Happy Hunting Ground of Heaven," a stray or unwanted dog would, without fail, show up "on the door step."    

He discovered Smokey, abandoned and wandering, around a gas station pump. She stole Henry's heart and became his constant companion for many years.

When the inevitable time came and she passed peacefully to join her former companions, my father-in-law was heartbroken. It is never easy to lose a loved one, be it human or animal, no matter what the age or reason.

It was a lonely drive as he traveled to the family farm for his monthly visit. He tried to steel himself as he passed every rest and potty stop that he and Smokey would frequent during that long trip. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "I can't deal with this," he cried. "Lord, You're going to have to help me." He drove on to the farm, parked his car, and wearily began to unload his things.   

Suddenly something caught his attention—a tiny figure next to the farmhouse door. He moved in for a closer inspection and discovered a lively little Chihuahua investigating the porch.

Daily inquiries were made until it was apparent that this little guy was homeless … dumped on the County Road to fend for himself. At this realization, Henry immediately made him part of the family and named him Chico.

Chico has proven to be a family project. Scared and defensive, no one could get close without him yelping. One day my mother-in-law, Betty, was lying on the couch and her hand slipped to the ground … right next to Chico. A "Grrrrrrrr!" immediately resounded from somewhere under the coffee table—her hand pushing the boundaries of his comfort zone. 

However, as Henry and Betty persevered in their patient care of this little dog, Chico began to progress from whimpering at them to whimpering for them when they were out of his sight. The latest feat was actually picking him up, which,had not been a tolerable move until now. With heavy BBQ gloves to protect against defensive teeth, they crossed this last hurdle. But they needn't have bothered with the gloves. Chico lay perfectly peaceful in their "armory" … no animosity, whatsoever, expressed. He has now become Henry's faithful companion, following him everywhere and sleeping next to him in a little blanketed, cardboard box next to the bed.

The Lord displayed his grace by bringing these lives together: one with a broken heart, the other abused and homeless. He knows that in this life we will go through trials and heartaches. But He promises, through Jesus, to deliver us out of them all in victory and with strength. His love is so great that it will reach out in answer to a simple prayer—even bringing an abandoned little dog to a man's door step to help ease the pain of a loss. 

(1 John 4:14-16; Lamentations 3:21-23)  

Stay tuned for another adventure …

(Copyright 2016 Sharabueler-repka.com. All Rights Reserved.) 

www.ponyexpressministry.com