A Little More Rein

Back in my farming days, I rode horses quite a bit.

One of the best horses I ever owned was a black Tennessee Walking Horse named Shadow. He had a moon eye, was sharp to look at, and would do just about anything I asked him to do.

I worked cattle off Shadow. I checked fence rows on him. And sometimes I climbed in the saddle for no other reason than I just enjoyed riding him.

We also had another good riding horse named Easter.

Easter was a pretty horse and, for the most part, a calm one. She wasn't the kind of horse that made you nervous when you climbed aboard.

One day a buddy of mine came over to visit. He hadn't ridden much, so naturally I decided the appropriate thing to do was put him on a thousand-pound animal with a mind of its own.

I gave him what I considered a thorough horseback-riding education.

It lasted about 38 seconds.

I figured nature could teach him the rest.

I saddled Shadow for myself and put him on Easter because she was calmer and easier to handle.

Before we started, though, I gave him one important piece of advice.

"Keep hold of those reins, and don't let her get her head too low."

Off we went.

We weren't doing anything exciting. We were just loafing along, walking fence lines, talking, and enjoying the day.

But after a while, I noticed something.

Easter was gaining ground on him.

Not much.

She wasn't running.

She wasn't even trotting.

She would just add about half a step.

Then another half step.

Then another, real patient, and real consistent.

I finally told him, "Pull her back a little bit. Let her know you've still got her."

He did.

Everything seemed fine, so we went back to talking.

But Easter hadn't forgotten where the barn was.

Eventually we went through a gate that put us on the road headed back toward it, and that's when I noticed Easter getting a little squirrely.

I told my buddy to pull her back.

There was only one problem.

While we'd been talking and enjoying the ride, Easter had slowly worked her head lower and lower. She had taken a little rein here and a little rein there until my buddy didn't have much left to pull.

He thought he was still in control.

Easter knew better.

And apparently somewhere inside that horse somebody rang the starting bell at Churchill Downs.

She left there like the Kentucky Derby had just begun.

I watched my buddy bouncing up and down in that saddle like a kid riding on the back of a log wagon.

About thirty yards into Easter's championship run, he performed what I would describe as a rapid, unplanned dismount.

Thankfully, he landed on the portion of the human body God designed with a little extra cushioning.

Easter ran another twenty yards or so, realized nobody was chasing her, and went right back to calmly walking around the field.

I checked on my buddy.

His hind end was wounded.

His pride was wounded worse.

But he would live to ride another day.

I've thought about that ride many times since.

The interesting thing is that Easter didn't take the reins all at once.

She took them an inch at a time.

And my buddy didn't realize how much control he had surrendered until the moment came when he desperately needed that control back.

There is a spiritual warning in that. When Paul wrote to the churches in Galatia, he was alarmed because something very similar was happening.

They hadn't thrown away everything they believed.

They still talked about God.

They still talked about Jesus.

They still used spiritual language.

They hadn't replaced Christianity with paganism.

The problem was much more subtle.

Someone had started changing the gospel. Paul wrote: "I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel." Galatians 1:6

Then Paul immediately clarifies: "Not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ." Galatians 1:7

That word distort matters.

They weren't necessarily saying, "Let's throw away Jesus."

They were changing what people were being taught about how a person is made right with God.

Christ wasn't enough anymore.

Grace wasn't enough anymore.

Faith wasn't enough anymore.

Jesus plus something else.

And Paul says when you change the gospel, even slightly, eventually you don't have the gospel at all.

That's what Easter was doing with those reins.

She didn't jerk them out of my buddy's hands.

She just wanted a little more rein.

Then a little more.

Then a little more.

And that's how biblical truth can be lost.

Just Give Me an Inch. That's one of the great dangers facing the church.

We don't normally wake up one morning and announce: "We're going to stop believing the Bible."

It happens much more slowly. We say: "I know what Scripture says, but..."

Give away a little rein.

"Surely God didn't really mean..."

A little more rein. "Times have changed."

Another inch. "That teaching makes people uncomfortable."

Another inch. "I know the Bible calls it sin, but I don't think a loving God would..."

Another inch. "Jesus is important, but surely there are other ways to God."

More rein.

Eventually somebody pulls back on the reins and discovers there isn't much left.

And the frightening part is that the church can still look like a church.

There may still be a pulpit, music, Bibles, prayers, crosses on the wall, talking about Jesus. But somewhere along the trail, the message changed.

Paul's warning couldn't be stronger: "But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed."Galatians 1:8

Paul wasn't interested in who delivered the message.

Measure the messenger by the gospel. Never measure the gospel by the messenger.

We sometimes think we can make Christianity more acceptable by softening the parts people don't like.

But once we change God's message, we have nothing left with which to save anybody.

Paul wrote: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes." Romans 1:16

The power isn't in our creativity.

The power isn't in making the message more culturally acceptable.

The power isn't in removing everything offensive.

The power is in the gospel God gave us.

If I change the gospel to make it more acceptable, I haven't improved God's gospel.

I've replaced it with mine.

And my gospel can't save anybody.

That's why the little changes matter.

A compass that's off by one degree may not seem like much when you begin the journey. But travel far enough, and you'll discover you're nowhere near where you intended to go.

The same thing happens spiritually.

A small departure from Scripture tolerated today becomes a larger departure tomorrow. Until eventually someone asks: "How did we get all the way over here?"

The answer is usually: Half a step at a time.

That's what I wish my buddy had understood better that afternoon.

Every inch of rein Easter took made the next inch easier to take.

And every inch he surrendered made it harder to regain control.

There comes a point when you suddenly realize:

We've gone farther than we ever intended to go.

Church, hold tightly to the Word of God.

When culture changes, hold the reins.

When biblical truth becomes unpopular, hold the reins.

When someone tells you Scripture needs updating, hold the reins.

When a preacher says something that sounds wonderful but doesn't agree with God's Word, hold the reins.

When your own feelings conflict with Scripture, hold the reins.

Because Satan doesn't always need you to throw away your Bible.

Sometimes he only needs you to loosen your grip on it.

Just an inch.

Then another.

Until one day you discover that what you believe bears very little resemblance to what God actually said.

Paul told Timothy: "Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers." 1 Timothy 4:16

There are some things we can disagree about.

There are some things Christians can debate.

But the gospel isn't ours to rewrite.

And if we keep giving away an inch here and an inch there, one day we may look around and wonder how we got so far from where we started.

Easter taught my buddy that lesson from the back of a horse.

Paul taught the Galatians the same lesson about the gospel.

Don't give away the reins. "Stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1