This prologue is shared as a Christmas gift to our community.
It sets the heart and framework for The Outrider, a work still being written and refined.
The Outrider - Prologue
“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found and hid again; and from joy over it he goes and sells everything that he has and buys that field.” – Jesus (Matthew 13:44 NASB)
The Tub in the Barn
One early summer morning my youngest son was riding his ATV around our family farm. No doubt, speeding through the tracks I had once laid down on my yellow Yamaha Tri-Zinger, a 50cc three-wheeler, when I was his age. Also like me, he enjoys exploring the old barn. The imagination of adventures to come and remnants of old, and the smells of dust, hay, and cow manure linger in the air. It's like a museum of what was for my grandfather, my father, and me. It's even the resting place for that old Tri-Zinger. This time, he stumbled upon a new find: one medium-sized tub filled with old toys. To him it was like finding a long-forgotten treasure chest. His excitement not only to discover, but to bring home and show me what he had found, was an invitation back into my young heart.
This tub had the remains of a few of my favorite toys as a young boy. My "Little People" barn along with a pickup truck with three seats, which would cause the riders to bounce up and down just like the real farm truck we had. There was also a boat that extended bath-time imagination until I turned into a prune, and a pop-up camper that once had a matching Jeep. To my excitement, there was still the faint sound of "moo" when you opened the barn door. Though it was more like a squeak, I still smiled. I dug a little more. There were breastplates with lions breathing fire, a helmet and sword. My old coon-skin hat whose tail had faded away to look more like a rats tail than that of a racoon. I was surprised to find the old vest and chaps that my mom made me, and then, to my delight, at the bottom of the pile was something that told me it was time. It was time to tell the story. My old holster from my days as Cowboy Dan. This holster was from the late ’70s. The picture of, “They don’t make ‘em like they used to!” The detail and quality of the tooling would have you swearing it was genuine leather crafted by the grandest leather smith in all the land! At least that’s what I know my young heart thought as I buckled the holster, complete with pearl-handled six-shooter, around my waist and entered into a world of battle and adventure. I was the real deal.
Digging in that tub was like digging into my heart. In that old dusty barn, where things have accumulated across generations and both moth and rust destroy, there was treasure to be passed down. The treasure isn’t the holster, but rather the story of the journey of becoming the man God created me to be. The story that needs to be told is one of process. A story of both good and bad seed being sown into the same soil, and the work required to cultivate it in order to grow good fruit. A journey of being raised as a son embracing beloved identity, receiving deep battlefield wounds, and the healing and training required to become one who can walk in beloved authority.
That tub really does house my beloved identity. It houses the ingredients of battle, adventure, and beauty that were sown into my DNA. In the book Wild at Heart, John Eldredge mentions the three core desires of a man’s heart as “a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue.” The coonskin hat, chaps and vest, armor and holster, and "Little People" toys are the seeds of these ingredients that make me … me. My mom knew this. I have no doubt the mothering heart of God led her to store these items, because they are the parts of me that she cherished and that God cherishes. I believe God wanted me to discover these and begin to cherish them about myself too.
I entered this journey of becoming the man I was created to be—or more appropriately, became awakened to the journey—in 2010. After years of faking it until I made it—feeling worn down and empty—I stumbled upon Wild at Heart by John Eldredge, and something deep within me came alive. Like the excitement of my son discovering the tub in the barn, I had begun to discover the tub within me. When I read the words Eldredge wrote in the first chapter-
“And then, alas, there is the church. Christianity, as it currently exists, has done some terrible things to men. When all is said and done, I think most men in the church believe that God put them on the earth to be a good boy. The problem with men, we are told, is that they don’t know how to keep their promises, be spiritual leaders, talk to their wives, or raise their children. But if they will try real hard they can reach the lofty summit of becoming … a nice guy.” - John Eldredge, Wild at Heart
I knew at that moment that I had to teach men how to be men. The Holy Spirit awakened something within me that always felt true. Most men are posing...pretending. To pose is to live behind a false exoskeleton of identity and pretend to be something they’re not in an effort to protect the wounded places within them. Because of their pose, they have no idea what it means to be their authentic selves, especially in religious spaces. I was one of them, except the pose that worked for me wasn’t as a nice guy, though I tried, it was as Rambo. After watching the Sylvester Stalone movies as a kid, I wanted to be the guy who nobody else could hurt. I shut down my emotions and began to put on a tough, “You can’t hurt me,” lone wolf persona. I grew disinterested in the sufferings of others and was only concerned about maintaining a low profile and keeping other people at well more than arm’s length away.
Three things created that guy: (1) the death of my best friend at age 12 causing me to not let anyone in, (2) the harsh words and anger from my dad and (3) the hypocrisy, misaligned righteous indignation, legalism, and condemnation from religious people. I continually encountered the kind of folks that Jesus confronted in Matthew 23:25–26 who only clean the outside of the cup.
Satan is always looking to pounce (1 Peter 5:8–9). He shows up in a moment of pain and whispers a lie to us: “This pain hurts too bad, doesn’t it?” “You’d be better off alone.” When we agree with it, we sign our name to the contract of the lie and it becomes our truth. On that dark November night in 1989 when I lost my best friend, I went right past simply agreeing with a lie and made a solemn promise by vowing to never get too close to anyone ever again. The pain of his loss hurt more than I could bear. I proceeded to live that promise out for the next 22 years, until a healing encounter with Jesus took me back to that pain and set me free.
My dad was an angry man. He was busy, well intended and engaged in the community, but at home his blindness to his own pain poured out in anger against those closest to him. His impulsive outbursts of anger were like daggers to my young heart. His words came out in curses that handicapped me for decades. There was no real father–son relationship. Every interaction was transactional. My heart was never wanted beyond my early pre-school years. Only my abilities to accomplish tasks were needed but were never good enough. More on the wounds of a father in Part 2
As for church, I was practically born there. I went to private school from daycare through sixth grade, then public school and on to a private university where the same rules of religion were at work. I have no memory of not knowing about Jesus—or rather, the proper behavior one should exhibit if one was a “true Christian of the true church.” What I experienced in each instance was the lack of relationships. I knew all about Jesus and could place at the top of any bible quiz or competition, but I didn’t know the man. Much like my relationship with my dad, my relationship with God was taught and based on rules and fear rather than the embrace of the love of a father.
What leadership within most Christian environments ultimately taught me was that shame is the tool religious doctrine uses to enforce sin management and the pressure to tithe. Whether by condemnation or the promise of prosperity, shame is at the core creating the pressure to do more and give more. That’s not grace, folks! It’s about control, and control is about money. This is the dirty part of the cup. The same reason Jesus flipped tables. Many religious leaders will deny this reality because they are hiding behind piety (the outside polish of the cup). This mask won’t allow clear insight into the more sinister and hidden underpinnings of the control the religious spirit has on the bride of Christ.
I honestly can’t stay in the presence of this type of fellowship for very long. That’s why I have never fit in at most religious settings. I can’t play nice. My efforts to do so were disingenuous and posing as the nice guy didn’t work for me. The fruit of this mixed bag of seed created confusion, which took root in my young heart. I didn’t fit well in anyone’s mold. I couldn’t be the perfect Christian kid but didn’t want to be sucked into the world of temptation and sin either. Therefore, I created a mold in which my confusion could feel comfortable. The Rambo pose worked. My identity as the lone wolf kept everyone out, and I became someone no one wanted to get close to.
My healing journey has led me to the understanding that God made me to be fierce, and this has allowed me to be kind. I am created to be fierce against the enemy and kind to those who are in pain, but I’ll never again pretend to be righteous by playing nice or pretending to be powerful by acting tough.
I know now that “hurt people hurt people,” but how on earth was I going to teach men how to be men—that is, the men God created them to be—when I had no clue how to be that man myself?
Submit.
“Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.” — Jeremiah 6:16
The Call of the Outrider
Submission is the only answer to being revealed as God has created us to be. The past 15+ years of submitting to God’s journey have been a roller coaster, to say the least. New relationships and lost relationships. Financial blessings and bankruptcy. Moves across state lines and back again. Healing and more wounding. Unlearning and more learning. All along the way, Jesus has been guiding us, and I continue to hang onto words he spoke to me personally as we began this journey: “you trust in the destination, trust also in the journey.” Those words have calmed my heart and eased my anxiety time and time again, keeping me oriented to the story he’s writing.
Wild at Heart has been a pivotal tool in my masculine journey. Eldredge’s teachings on masculinity have drawn me deeper into Scripture and into relationship with Jesus than any religious setting ever has. John Eldredge and his team lead a four-day experience called Wild at Heart Boot Camp. The design of the weekend is to get off the grid in beautiful wilderness spaces, dive deep into the themes of his book, and encounter the extravagant love of Jesus.
I had been to a number of Boot Camps and had been working on my cousin for four years to attend one for himself. Finally, Jason, who was in the U.S. Cavalry and a part of the horse detachment unit stationed at Fort Hood, was able to attend a Wild at Heart Boot Camp nearby. He was beyond excited to receive the image of a painting by Charles Schreyvogel called My Bunkie in his welcome packet (he was wearing the exact same uniform the day before). He called it a sign! He began to share much detail with me about the Cavalry’s training. They re-enact the activity in the picture at the detachment, which is known as the “Downed Rider Pickup.”
He began to decipher the picture, which includes four individuals: the “Downed Rider,” the “Rescuer,” and two “Outriders.” He explained that new riders to the detachment have to be rescued. The other three are the best riders. They’ve been there for a while. Not only had they already been “rescued,” but each had then spent a lot of time training in the saddle. The reason is simple—it’s dangerous. Charging full speed with a 1,000-pound animal toward a soldier on the ground so they can leap onto its back can go wrong in more ways than you can imagine—and fast. I was blown away by Jason’s description of this process and soaked it all in like a sponge.
That weekend, after a session diving deeper into the ways men pose, Jesus called me out. “Stop posing as the Rescuer!” He exclaimed. A vision of the whole picture of the My Bunkie painting came to mind. Then he said, “You’re the Outrider,” as the image zoomed into a tight shot of the rider in the back. I rose quickly from my nap, my cowboy hat flying from my head, amazed and completely ashamed at the same time. I had been attempting to rescue people but was instead running them over. The frequent (and hardest hit) casualties were my wife and kids. I quickly renounced that false identity and had to seek deep forgiveness to be free from the shame of causing harm by sitting in the wrong saddle.
When I returned home and tucked everyone into bed, I sat quietly before the My Bunkie painting, praying and listening for God’s voice. God then unpacked a deeper understanding of the image. The “Downed Rider” is just that—down. It is a person who is just being rescued for the first time or a rider who has been taken out, shot off his (or her) horse. The “Rescuer”—that’s Jesus. Notice that he’s the only one with his sleeves rolled up. This represents the intimate touch of healing and restoration only he can offer. Then there are the two “Outriders,” who are there to provide cover and protection during the rescue so the “Downed Rider” can focus on Jesus and Jesus alone. The one to the right has no face and represents the Holy Spirit. The Outrider in the back—that’s the saddle meant for us and the role we are to play. The role of partnering with Jesus and the Holy Spirit as a co-heir in the Kingdom. We’re a partner, but Jesus is the hero!
First you have to be rescued. Then you have to learn how to ride. You must “earn your spurs,” so to speak, like they do in the U.S. Cavalry horse detachment. Even if this “ain’t your first rodeo,” it takes time in the saddle, being trained by the best—Jesus and the Holy Spirit. When we learn to operate in our role as the Outrider in partnership with the Holy Spirit and allow the Downed Rider to focus on Jesus and the pommel of his saddle, the rescue and presence of God’s Kingdom coming and being done is an amazing and beautiful sight to behold!
The freedom and glory I’ve experienced through this process of healing and training for the role of Outrider has inspired me to write this book. I want you to receive the glory God has for you as a beloved son and the freedom that comes with sitting in the saddle specifically designed for you. It’s been over a decade since God opened for me a whole new level of understanding of identity versus role through the painting My Bunkie by Charles Schreyvogel. In it are contained all the ingredients sown into the masculine heart: battle, adventure and beauty, pain and rescue, healing and training and process. This book is laid out into three sections. In the first section, I’ll explain and unpack the process of moving from beloved identity to operating in beloved authority through the painting and each character: (1) the Downed Rider, (2) the Rescuer, and (3) the Outrider. The second section is all about identity. We’ll explore together all the nuggets of truth God has given on my journey toward restoration and hopefully discover some more along the way. We’ll start with our false identity and how we pose—many times confusing our role as our identity. Finally, in the third section, we’ll spend some time in the process of healing and training in order to walk in beloved authority.
The book is laid out so that you can continue through the narrative from start to finish, or in small segments and be able to pick back up at any point along the way as a guidepost on your journey to walk in your beloved authority. I was never a reader and had never finished one from cover to cover until I began this journey. Mainly because my attention span was never captured, and I’m no fan of over stuffing content with filler words and fluff. My hope is to write the book guys like me would read. The book I would have read long ago when I truly needed it.
Before we go any further, I want to establish a few foundational elements for this book. I’m operating under the principle that healing and restoration are available, as Jesus publicly declared his ministry by reading from Isaiah 61 in Luke 4. And that we are known in Heaven by a different name—a true identity given to us by our Creator. As Revelation 2:17 states, “I will give him a white stone, and a new name written on the stone.”
I’m also operating under the principles that:
God speaks to us.
It would be a travesty to believe that Jesus takes up residence within us and remains silent (Romans 8:10, Galatians 2:20, John 10:27).
Satan speaks to us.
As Paul writes in Romans 7, “there is a sin nature within man, that is at work”, and Satan himself can whisper to us there. When those lies become our truth (we sign the contract) they take root, though our soul may be saved, parts of our mind remain his prisoner.
In Christ, you are a new creation.
2 Corinthians 5:17 says anyone in Christ is a “new creation”. Romans 8:19 says all of creation is waiting expectantly for the “sons and daughters of God to be revealed.”
Restoration is available.
Jesus declared restoration is available in Isaiah 61 when he went public with his ministry to bind broken hearts and set captives free. Romans 8 also combats the flesh nature with the nature of the Spirit, stating the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead can bring life to your mortal body.
My hope for this book is to invite you into your story and discover the treasure that you are—to find the ingredients of your beloved identity and enter or continue the process of becoming the beloved co-heir with Christ that God created you to be. I want you to know yourself as you are known in the Kingdom of Heaven, and caution you not to run ahead of Jesus, but to know and rest with confidence that he’s the real hero in your story.
I want to encourage you to fully surrender and remain faithful to the process of healing and training. Your heart longs to live the life for which it was made. This process is required for you to operate fully in the role God has uniquely created for you on this earth. It is preparation to be equipped to walk in your unique identity and purpose—ready for the day when Jesus returns to make a new Heaven and new Earth.
I’ll be writing this book from the masculine perspective, but my desire—whether you are a beloved son or beloved daughter—is for you to embrace your beloved identity and walk in your beloved authority, because women are Outriders too!
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
The Outrider is a story of process. A journey of healing, training, and learning to sit in the saddle God designed for us. If this prologue stirred something in you, don’t rush past it. Stay with what surfaced.
Jesus is the Rescuer. Invite Him into that place.