It was one of the most tragic things I have ever witnessed. I was riding with my husband in the tractor as he carried round hay bales to our cattle. It was a cold and sloppy winter day. As we came through the gate, the herd followed along with the tractor, bawling their impatience with every step. 

My husband moved the empty hay rings over several feet to more dry areas, and then lifted each bale high over a ring with the hay fork attached to the tractor, and set them down inside. The cattle began shoving their faces down into the delicious hay, pulling out big mouths full. They stood chewing in the cold drizzle with mud covered legs and frosted breath. 

There was no pasture grass this time of year. The cattle’s survival until late spring rested solely on the hay delivery and their ability to get to it.

We sat in the warm tractor and watched them munch. We always spent a few minutes counting heads, taking note of whether a new calf had been born, and the general welfare of the herd.

It was only then that we saw it. The mud covered mound down a small incline from the hay ring’s previous location. We had assumed it to be a partially eaten hay bale that had been trampled into the mud. The horror of what we were seeing settled over both of us at once. My husband spoke the sickening words first, “I think that’s a cow!”

He got out of the tractor and slogged through the mud, waving the herd out of his path. He leaned over the mud coated mass to find she was still breathing…barely. 

Cattle moving under their own steam can be tricky to get where you want them to go. When they are sick or weak, it can be even more difficult. It looked as though she had slid backwards in the mud where she couldn’t get the traction she needed. She had become mud caked in her struggle to regain her footing. The other cattle had quite literally walked on top of her to get to the hay while she got weaker and weaker from lack of food in the cold.

If she had any hope at all of surviving, we had to get her up out of the mud pit that she had backslid into. We had to get her eating again to give her body nourishment and warmth. My husband did the only thing he knew to do. He used the hay fork on the front of the tractor to lift and scoot her, as gently as possible out of the pit to a flat and dryer spot of ground. Even then, you would never know she was a cow under all that mud except for the periodic puffs of frozen breath.

I wish I could say that we saved her. We tried the best we could, but ended up losing her that day. Our best efforts weren’t enough. We were too late.

This painful memory always causes me to think of my Christian brothers and sisters who have left the faith, or at least put their walk with God on hold to pursue their own agenda. Wealth, Sports, Recreation, Fame.

Whatever it is they choose to pursue, they feel like they are at a safe enough spot to be able to come back to the God’s House whenever they choose, not realizing the precarious position they have gotten themselves into. They don’t realize these things they have chosen to pursue will eventually suck them down so deep that they can’t get back.

We much keep better check on those we love. We must keep them connected to the local church. We must make sure they are being fed the Word of God on a regular basis. We must be aware of tell tell signs that they are losing their hold on Truth, and their footing in the Kingdom of God. We must engage them in honest conversation, and insert ourselves into their lives consistently.

The only thing sadder than a Christian backsliding, is a Christian backsliding and being trampled by fellow Christians, just taking care of themselves, completely unaware that their brother or sister has fallen. God, help us to be concerned.