SHILOH'S WELL

One reason Christians still enjoy reading Paul’s letters, even though they are two thousand years old, is because they provide a lot of insight on how to live in this crooked and perverse generation (Philippians 2:14-16). The Greek word translated perverse in the King James can also mean foolish (The New Testament in Basic English). Increasingly, we live in a foolish society consumed with an insatiable desire to have fun at any cost. Entertainment opportunities offered by the bright lights of the world have a strong allure, especially to young people who can become quickly bored unless they are engaged in self-indulging pleasures. While these activities are not necessarily bad, temptation for evil and wrongdoing is never far away. My grandchildren, when they were small, could find all sorts of interesting things to do when they came to visit Grams and Granddaddy in the Big Thicket. They enjoyed boat rides and fishing in Lake Kimbal in front of my house. Driving the golf cart and my little pickup truck on the backroads were highly anticipated activities. They enjoyed exploring the woods and searching for signs of the bear that lives in the area. I hope they remember where I carved their initials in the huge Beech tree. But, unfortunately, the older they become, as the following story illustrates, the more difficult it is to keep them happily occupied. To the south and west, less than the distance I can hit a golf ball (which is not very far), are three different deer leases. My oldest grandson, a young teenager at the time of my retirement in 2000, was extremely anxious to experience the thrill of deer hunting. Fortunately, the lease directly behind my house had an opening, so I joined with the understanding Eric could hunt with me. Within hollering distance of my property was a large stand (a wooden box on stilts) built by another hunter for himself and his daughter. Since his daughter had grown up and moved away, he graciously allowed me to use it. Finally, the opening day of deer season arrived! In East Texas, this day ranks just below Christmas in anticipation. Many small businesses actually shut down for the week, while others limp along understaffed until the bulk of the crew comes back to share their stories of the one that got away. Eric was up before the crack of dawn, ready to begin his first hunt. I could hardly convince him to go home for lunch when I heard Grams calling us from our backyard. We had a great week, but did not harvest a deer. He had one excellent opportunity, but unfortunately, caught a severe case of buck fever. For those of you who are not familiar with this term, it means the hunter freezes with excitement and is unable to pull the trigger. I explained to him that this sometimes happens even to an experienced woodsman, and is nothing to be ashamed of. The second year Eric was back again, but the high expectation of adventure was sadly missing. I could hardly get him out of bed opening morning. Very soon, he was ready to go home and do something else. I finally convinced him to lay down and take a nap while I kept watch. As I sat there listening to him snore peacefully, I realized our hunting days were nearing an end. The third year Eric did not come back for deer season. Within the bright lights of the big city, he had discovered foolish pursuits (surely including girls) far more appealing than sitting in a deer stand with his Granddaddy. That was my last season to hunt. Getting up before dawn and sitting in a cold deer stand was no longer satisfying without someone to share it with. To complete the cycle, last year at Christmas I purchased Eric’s deer rifle from his father and gave it to my other two young grandsons, Colton and Justin, who are anxiously awaiting the opening day of deer season next week. They hunt with their father, so I guess that means I will be sleeping in with Grams on opening day. Come to think of it, that is not really so bad!