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We are like wild horses bought from a dark a weary land. We dwell in the outskirts of God's pastures. Each day the Master Horseman comes and sits... watching... alluring...

“Come My Children. Come close. Come to My stables.”

One day we say, “where is the Master Horseman? He has deserted me.” Then we see Him, on a hill in an unfamiliar pasture, a pasture closer to His stables.

“Come My children, come close. Come to My stables”.

We hesitate…
We are afraid…
We do not want to leave our familiar pasture
The wolves come!
We Run!
We are torn!
And then we see Him on a hill in a different pasture.

“Come My children, come close. Come to My stables”.

We run to Him
He delivers us
And heals our wounds
We begin to need Him
We begin to trust
Each day he leads us.
And takes care of our needs.

“Come My children, come close. Come to My stables”.

As we approach His stables, we see the others
He is riding them!
They are bucking!
They can’t get away!
He wont get off!
He seems so cruel…
He wont let go
No… He will never let you go.

“Come My children, come close. Come to My stables… After so long, do you still not trust me? After so much, have I not proved My Love?

Few come… few He selects…

We see the broken
What burdens they bare…
Working in the harvest fields…
Carrying burdens in the wilderness…
Pulling carts in the streets and the alley ways…
They have no independence…
They do not freely run across the meadows…
They do not eat the wild succulent wild oats…
But Look! What fire is in their eyes…
What joy that floods their souls…
They are not afraid of the sword…
They run into the battle…
Thunder does not terrify them…
They do not shy in the crowd…
They eat the best of grain…
They drink the Living Water…
They are regal in the parade…

But Look! What sufferings they endure
Look! What price they pay

But Look! What intimacy they have with the Master
The Master Loves them.
I can tell He is pleased.

“Come My children, come close. Come to My stables”.

By James Wood

Copyright 2007 James Wood

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Author's note: The 'stables' refered to in this poem have nothing to do with going to a physical location; like a church or congregation. This poem is strickly about personal intimacy and training with and by our loving Creator, God.