This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins . . . there is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear . . ."—1 John 4:10, 18 (NIV)

There, hanging on the wall of a local smoothie shop, a flyer caught a young woman's attention. A flicker of hope rose in her spirit—she jotted down the posted address and hurried to her car. Driving in earnest determination, the woman arrived unannounced . . . at Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch. When the staff greeted the distressed visitor, they quickly learned the magnitude of her day. Earlier, she had not only been fired from her job, upon returning home, this precious woman had also been served with divorce papers. Her broken family was left in fragments . . . four children under the age of five who needed her full attention . . . and a lone horse she rescued from abuse and neglect. The woman desperately adored her beloved equine and did not want him to suffer from her personal hardship. Without the ability to provide long term care for her horse . . . she wondered if the Ranch would consider adopting the gelding and give him the opportunity to learn to love and be loved by children. Sometimes, the most brave thing a person can do—is to summon the courage—to ask for help. We gathered the sparse fragments of information she knew of the horse's history. He grew up on a large private property in a bachelor band of stallions. At the age of seven he was caught, gelded, and sent to a new home she knew virtually nothing about. Years later, the woman overheard her neighbor, a man, speak atrocities about the cowering horse under his care. Boldly she asked to purchase the fearful gelding and the man agreed to sell. Although she knew little about horses, the kindhearted woman told us how she knew enough to understand the necessity of keeping a creature as beautiful as a horse—away—from a person as vicious as the angry man. Rescue was simply the right thing to do.

Under her care, three weeks passed before the terrified horse allowed her to touch him. Faithfully, she spent time with the gelding and was the single person to slowly gain his trust. Upon hearing the encounter of suffering and love, we made arrangements to meet the horse a few weeks later. When the day came and we pulled into the driveway. Other than two small goats, I noticed the little horse peacefully standing alone. As we stepped out of the truck, his ears perked upwards with interest. The horse's unmistakable facial features clearly spoke of his Arabian lineage. He was a light dun-like bay color, with the faintest dorsal stripe down his back. During the evaluation, it took over an hour before he was willing to carefully extend his nose to touch my hand. From this proximity, I could see unusual divots across his body—odd, fist-size marks from his neck to hindquarters—the remains of deep, visceral scars. Slowly, I could feel hair rising on the back of my neck. With horror, I realized each indentation was from being attacked so severely . . . that muscle was torn. It was impossible to know with surety if the scars were from stallion bites or from human cruelty. Regardless of the source, the small gelding had suffered unimaginable pain. The clear result was a timid horse who was careful to stay far from the reach of another being. I noticed something beautiful—for him to welcome a stranger into his personal space—was a giant step toward trust.

On the way home, the team debriefed our encounter. The gelding was fearful, but he did not attempt to threaten me in order to protect himself. Instead, he was understandably evasive, gentle, and even humble. After prayerful consideration, we felt released to accept the frightened horse into our care. We soon returned with a horse trailer and portable corral panels. The team built a mini round pen at the back of the trailer. We would use this to gently, slowly, and safely funnel the gelding into the horse trailer. In our hands, we each held "training flags"—sticks with grocery bags attached to the end. When we rattled the shopping bags, the gelding responded at first with curiosity . . . then uncertainty. The instant he looked in the direction of the trailer, we stopped. Through the process, the horse came to find comfort and release when he chose to be close to the trailer. As he neared the giant box on wheels, we shrunk the round pen one panel at a time. Soon, with one last chorus of shaking the shopping bags, the bay gelding stood at the brink of his insecurity—and in a leap of trust—quietly jumped into the unknown. With gentle and quick movements, I secured the trailer door. For the horse once held captive by fear, the temporary enclosure would soon open to an entirely new world of freedom. In our hands, we each held "training flags"—sticks with grocery bags attached to the end. When we rattled the shopping bags, the gelding responded at first with curiosity . . . then uncertainty. The instant he looked in the direction of the trailer, we stopped. Through the process, the horse came to find comfort and release when he chose to be close to the trailer.

As he neared the giant box on wheels, we shrunk the round pen one panel at a time. Soon, with one last chorus of shaking the shopping bags, the bay gelding stood at the brink of his insecurity—and in a leap of trust—quietly jumped into the unknown.

With gentle and quick movements, I secured the trailer door. For the horse once held captive by fear, the temporary enclosure would soon open to an entirely new world of freedom. In honor of the brave gelding’s deliberate choice to trust—and—the walls of fear we knew would fall under the mighty roar of God's love . . . we named our new arrival, "Jericho." At the Ranch, Jericho advanced through his training with gentle speed. He learned to accept the halter, to confidently allow his feet to be trimmed, and what it meant to be secure in the gentle touch of his human handlers. In the herd, Jericho's humility and respect of the lead horses gained him an instant welcome into his new horse family.

Today, Jericho allows gentle hands to stroke each scar and healed wound. Love is redeeming every place that was once a trigger and reminder of his past. With each courageous act to trust . . . Jericho's walls of fear vaporized in the light of God's love. The Arabian gelding is a constant reminder to each of us. Like Jericho, we all bear scars from our past . . . but every step of trust toward Jesus . . . opens an entirely new world of freedom in His presence. Similar to our little horse, the courageous act to trust positions us to receive Jesus’ perfect love. Like Jericho, will you choose to allow HIS healing hands to touch your wounds? Because of what Christ did on the cross—in this secure place—barriers of fear and pain vaporize in the brilliance of His redeeming love for you.

"This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins . . . there is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear . . ."—1 John 4:10, 18 (NIV)