Job CCCXXXI

 Job 39:19-25, “Have you given the horse strength? Have you clothed his neck with thunder? Can you frighten him like a locust? His majestic snorting strikes terror. He paws in the valley and rejoices in his strength; he gallops into the clash of arms. He mocks at fear and is not frightened; nor does he turn back from the sword. The quiver rattles against him, the glittering spear and javelin. He devours the distance with fierceness and rage; nor does he come to a halt because the trumpet has sounded. At the blast of the trumpet he says, ‘Aha!’ He smells the battle from afar, the thunder of captains and shouting.”

I am not given to equestrian endeavors. I like being on things that can’t buck me off if they get a mind to, like a comfy couch or the beat-up chair in the corner of our den from where I do most of my writing. Even so, it is undeniable that horses are beautiful beasts, majestic creatures, and that’s before realizing how many different breeds there are, and how much they differ in both temperament, size, and purpose.

God did not pick the horse at random when speaking of the nuance of His creation. There is a purpose in it, as there is a purpose in all God says and does, even if we fail to see it or glean the underlying lesson in what He is attempting to convey.

Even someone as admittedly ignorant as myself when it comes to horses in general knows enough to know that, unlike the stork or the ostrich, there are countless variations and breeds of horses. You’ve got Arabians, Appaloosas, Clydesdales, Mustangs, Andalusians, Holsteiners, Palfreys, thoroughbreds, Coursers, and destriers, just to name a few, each with its specific temperament and size.

In the olden days, a good war horse could mean the difference between life and death, victory or defeat, because if the horse is skittish, reticent, or unwilling to go where its rider is guiding it, it will end up either running away from the battle or in the midst of a mêlée the rider never intended to be in.

God drills down and focuses on what one might readily call a warhorse. He focuses on the warhorse’s attributes, different from other breeds and types, attempting to highlight the finite, granular detail in the difference between them and other breeds like Shetland ponies or miniature horses.

I have a friend who, for some unexplained reason, decided having a miniature pony was a good decision. I’ve never seen a more skittish animal in my life. It would jump at its own shadow, and if ever a squirrel decided to square up to him, he would run into the barn as if his tail was on fire. Had someone decided to ride the tiny trotter into battle, they would have been laughed off the battlefield, because the first lesson we must learn from this discourse into what makes for a good warhorse is to pick the right tool for the job, whether that’s a screwdriver, a socket wrench, a saw, a hammer, or the right type of horse.

It doesn’t matter how expensive your socket wrench set was if what you need at that moment is to hammer in a nail. Likewise, a miniature pony might be fun to look at and let the neighbor kids ride once in a while, but it wasn’t bred for war, no matter how fearsome you try to make it look.

The second lesson that, for some, is hard learned is that more often than not, we learn to appreciate the true value of something only once it's gone and no longer within reach. In his famous last words, Richard III cried aloud, “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!” only after he’d been knocked off his destrier was he forced to fight on foot.

Just because you’ve had the freedom to worship, fellowship, gather, and openly declare your faith for as long as you can remember doesn’t guarantee it will always be this way. Just because you could get a free Bible upon request from most churches, and in a pinch request one from the Gideons, it doesn’t guarantee it will always be as readily accessible. Value the things you take for granted before they are gone, and redeem the time you have in availing yourself of them with the enthusiasm that comes with knowing what they are truly worth.

The warriors of old had an unbreakable bond with their mounts because they understood their value. They cared for their horses, made sure they were well shod, well fed, well groomed, and cared for, because they understood that at some point they would need to depend on their mounts to press on when others would not, mock at fear, and not turn back from the sword.

History tells us that men of unequaled bravery whose lives were spent in war and on the battlefield wept openly when their horses were felled, because to them their warhorse was more than an animal used in service of a purpose, but a companion and friend.

That a warhorse gallops into the clash of arms, that he does not come to a halt because the trumpet has sounded, or that he is not frightened nor turns back from the sword is not a happy accident. There are no such things as happy accidents. God makes it clear that this fierceness and fearlessness were ingrained in their nature from creation, and like all things, it was done purposefully and for a purpose.

Again, the question begs to be asked and answered: if God took such painstaking details into account when it comes to the horse, what makes you think for one second He doesn’t have your situation well in hand? If He meticulously designed and crafted a horse for battle, making it different in temperament and disposition from the placid, timid horses that just want a carrot, what makes you think He is less engaged or aware of your need or pain?

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.