RIDIN' FOR THE BRAND



He was lean and tall and looked every bit as though he should be walking toward the OK Corral.  His
disdain for everyone around him was obvious by his attitude.  He had all six foot six of his frame covered
in black and was carrying a mood to match.  Today he had made it his mission to see to it that everyone
shot through the stages to his satisfaction.  The only problem was that he was not the stage marshal.
For the uninitiated, whenever cowboy shooters gather for a match we are all divided into posses with
each “posse” starting the match on a different “stage.”  Each stage in the match has a written description
as to how that stage is to be shot.  Generally one of the more experienced shooters will read the stage
description and clarify any questionable parts of the shooting scenario, like where to stage a particular
weapon or where to stand.  Each posse will have three cowboys working as spotters.  It is their job to
count hits and misses.  There is a monitor at the loading table.  It is their job to assure the correct amount
of ammunition is loaded into each weapon and the hammer is lowered onto an empty chamber.  There is
a monitor at the unloading table to assure that there is no unfired ammunition remaining in any of the
guns.  Then there is the cowboy operating the timer.  This cowboy is the stage marshal.  He calls the
cowboys to the line, starts the timer and moves through the shooting scenario with the shooter.  His job is
safety and he is focused on the shooter.  He is to always be within arms length of the shooter so he can
grab the weapon should intervention be called for.  He is responsible for counting the number of rounds
fired.  When the scenario is completed he will poll the spotters and announce the number of misses and
procedural penalties to be assessed to the score keeper. Every one is responsible for safety and is
obligated to respond to any violation of the safety while it is the stage marshal who is the man in charge.
The rules of this game we play are promulgated by SASS, the Single Action Shooting Society.  The reason
most of us go to all this trouble is simply it is fun to get together with folks dressed like us and play
cowboy for a few hours.  The vehicle used to accomplish this is the shooting competition.  The fun and
the shooting is an unbeatable combination.  What makes it good and enjoyable is generally we all
attempt to follow the same set of rules.  That is, until today.
We all live our lives according to a particular hierarchy.  There is much in the hierarchy that is personal
and individual.  We each assign the values that determine what comes first in our lives.  The hierarchy for
the Christian is established by Scripture.  We determine if we are to follow the dictates or not, but the
items remain steadfast.  The most important thing in a Christian’s life is God Himself.  It is not natural for
us to think of someone else before we think of ourselves but it is possible if we try and respond to the
work of the Holy Spirit.  The second most important thing in the Christian’s hierarchy is God’s Word, the
Bible.  The Holy Spirit places within each of God’s children a hunger for His Word.  The Christian has
realized that “shall” is mandatory and attempts to live his life in-as-much-as possible by the dictates of
His Word.  The third step in the Christian’s hierarchy is conscience.  In the life of the Christian,
conscience is the work of the Holy Spirit, guiding us through this mine field called daily living.  It is this
hierarchy that makes the Christian distinguishable from the non Christian. Even the carnal and the lost
recognize when we are walking the walk.
We all have our individual preferences.  After the three most important determinants in a Christian’s life,
preference comes into play.  We have our favorites and our peculiar likes and dislikes.  Praise God He
did not make us all alike!  Everything in our lives works surprisingly well with a harmonious outcome so
long as we remember the hierarchy and keep God where He wants to be in our lives and our preferences
where they belong.  From time to time we get things a little mixed up and God has to chastise us a mite to
bring us back to reality.
Today our man in black was forgetting the established hierarchy and had made it his mission to attempt
to have everyone shoot to his preference.  He was correcting how the gun was held, how we stood, and
how we approached the stage.  Even for horseshoes,  hand grenades, or slow dancing he wasn’t even
close to the established rules.  In a moment of opportunity I eased up beside him.  “Cowboy,” I said.  
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”  He smiled and walked away.  Everyone enjoyed the harmony of
fellowship for the rest of the shoot.

© Carl H. Lenz, 2007
Twice A Day