Last week we finished the story of the Add-on Eskimo. While it was based on true events, the point was to show practically how we can add to our faith virtue, knowledge, self-control, endurance, godliness, brotherly kindness and agape love.
I hope you are better able to implement these commands after seeing how Olfagit and Ayit practiced this in their own lives.
Nurturing these qualities comes with a promise, as it says in 2 Peter 1: 8. “For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.” So if you want to be effective and productive in your walk with Christ, here’s the answer!
Today I want to start sharing with you another story, this one being fiction. Called “The Cowboy With Heavenly Wisdom,” it illustrates how we can use heavenly wisdom of James 3:17 in our lives.
It says, “…the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.”
Being a western story, it has some violence in it, but all is turned into lessons for us in how to handle difficult situations with heavenly wisdom. So here’s the first installment.
HEAVENLY WISDOM
Chapter 1
Crouching behind the rock, he could feel the blood trickling down his leg. He had broken off the head of the arrow, pulled it out of his thigh and stuffed some cloth torn from his shirt in the holes, but the blood was still seeping out.
He had been out beyond the herd, looking for strays when the Indians came down on him. Fortunately, there were only three and one he killed immediately but another hit him in the thigh with an arrow before taking cover. It was only a flesh wound, but the loss of blood was worrisome for him.
He had taken shelter in the jumble of boulders and now he listened intently, wanting to counter any attack the Indians would make—and they would. They were patient and could meld in with the background, coming up on you before you knew it.
He was sweating in the hot Texas summer sun. Here among the rocks there was no shade and he had no canteen, having left it on his horse. The Indians knew he was wounded, knew he had no water, and so they would let him bake in the sun for a while, waiting for him to weaken before attacking.
He wanted to lean back against a rock and rest, but the rock was too hot to touch, so he crouched on the ground, rifle at ready in his hands, straining his eyes and ears for any sign of movement.
Suddenly an Indian popped over the rock, flinging himself at Cody. Cody lifted his rifle and shot the Indian in mid leap, knocking him backwards. He was dead instantly.
Cody then heard the slight rasp of a moccasin on a rock and turned just as another Indian came down on him from behind. There was no time to get his rifle around, so he dropped it and grasped his Bowie knife.
The Indian had his knife out too, and as they rolled in the dirt, he tried aggressively to stab Cody, but Cody was too fast. He pushed the Indian away and scrambled to his feet. The Indian was up in an instant, too, and they circled each other warily.
The Indian suddenly rushed at him, slashing wildly, but Cody grabbed the Indian’s knife wrist with his left hand and with his own knife slashed out, cutting deeply into the Indian’s upper arm. He brought the Indian’s knife arm down on his knee, forcing him to drop his knife.
Cody then twisted the Indian’s good arm up behind his back and put him into a choke hold. Panting, he said, “You are a great warrior, it would be a shame to kill you. I will let you live.”
“You also are a great warrior, tall one,” said the Indian, also panting. “I am chief Buffalo Head. I never before defeated, but you are stronger and faster, you have beaten me.” He paused, “Why you let me live and not kill me?”
“I have nothing against you or your people,” replied Cody. “I prefer doing good to killing. Now go back to your teepee and have many children.”
“I go, tall warrior,” replied the chief.
Cody released the Indian, picked up his rifle and limped away. When he was out from among the rocks, he whistled for his horse, which came immediately. The first thing Cody did was take a small sip from his canteen, careful not to drink too much while being so thirsty.
Then he swung into the saddle, ignoring the pain of his wounded leg, put his rifle into the scabbard, and set off for the chuck wagon. There he found that no one else had been attacked.
The trail boss told Cody to rest for a day or two and let his wound heal some. Cody sought out some of the herbs the Indians used to heal wounds, made a poultice of it and applied it to his wound several times a day.
In the morning the trail boss had him lie down in the chuck wagon. “You need to rest that leg a bit,” he said, over Cody’s objection. But after spending two days with the cook, he was thankful for the chance to rest and recover. On the third day he was ready to ride again.
