01/14/2026
I believe God speaks through horses.
Not in words.
Not in sermons.
Not in thunder.
But in presence.
In stillness.
In the quiet way something can reach your soul without ever making a sound.
Horses have a way of meeting you exactly where you are -
when your heart is heavy,
when your faith feels tired,
when your prayers feel stuck somewhere between hope and waiting.
They don’t rush you.
They don’t demand explanations.
They don’t ask you to be strong when you are worn thin.
They simply stand with you.
And in that standing, something sacred happens.
Their breath slows your own.
Their calm steadies your racing thoughts.
Their awareness pulls you out of the noise and back into the present moment-
the only place God has ever asked us to be.
There is humility in a horse.
A quiet obedience to the rhythm of life.
A sensitivity to energy that feels almost holy.
They feel what we try to hide.
They respond to what we carry.
They soften when we soften.
They grow still when we need grounding.
And I don’t think that’s accidental.
I think God, in His gentleness, knew some hearts would need a different kind of language.
A language of touch instead of talk.
Of presence instead of answers.
Of trust built slowly instead of forced.
Through horses, we learn patience.
We learn surrender.
We learn that control is an illusion and trust is everything.
We learn that strength doesn’t have to be loud.
That power can be gentle.
That leadership is rooted in love, not force.
We learn to listen -
not just with our ears,
but with our spirit.
There are prayers I couldn’t put into words
that were somehow answered
standing beside a horse in the quiet of the barn.
There were tears I didn’t know how to pray through
that were met with a warm neck and a steady breath.
There were seasons of waiting
where the only peace I felt
was in the presence of something God created
to remind me that I was not alone.
Horses don’t replace faith.
They lead you back to it.
They remind you of how God moves -
patiently,
faithfully,
without forcing,
without rushing.
They show you what it looks like to trust.
To be led.
To rest in presence instead of fear.
And when a horse looks at you with those deep, knowing eyes,
it feels like being reminded:
“I see you.
You are safe.
You are held.
You are not forgotten.”
I don’t think that’s coincidence.
I think sometimes,
God speaks in hoofbeats and breath,
in stillness and trust,
in the quiet companionship of a horse who stands beside you
and somehow makes the weight feel lighter.
And if you’ve ever felt your soul settle
just by being near one,
you understand.
God doesn’t always speak loudly.
Sometimes…
He whispers through horses.
Do you feel this?
