Let me tell you – fishermen have nothing on deer hunters for the gift of gabbing about their experiences in the field.
For over thirty years I've worked with and been friends with a never-ending succession of men who plan their annual vacations around mid-November, when deer season opens in Missouri. And without exception they love to talk about their sport.
One friend, Jack, came back to work from a weekend in the woods with a tall tale about seeing an enormous buck silhouetted against the sky in the first light of pre-dawn.
“I was absolutely mesmerized by the size of the thing, and the beauty of the scene,” he said. “Of course, I had to wait until actual sunrise to legally shoot it, and I sat there praying the buck would stay where he was for another fifteen minutes.” The part about the praying was for my benefit, since I doubt Jack had prayed more than a sentence or two since he last uttered “Now I lay me down to sleep” as a very, very young child.
Just as the legal hunting time was arriving, the deer took a step forward. Jack nearly pulled the trigger at that moment out of fear he was about to lose his prey one minute before he could legally shoot it. But then he saw something that truly amazed him.
“It wasn’t one buck at all,” he said, awe filing his voice. “A second deer – a doe – was standing on the other side of the buck. She had been completely hidden by the buck in the shadows of the sunrise."
“I checked my watch, and when the second hand hit twelve, I sighted on the buck’s heart and squeezed the trigger. I figured if I dropped him I might still get a chance at the doe behind him.”
Now, here comes the part that separates Jack from the other “deer story” tellers I’ve known. He’s already got a great story going, but he adds the whipped cream on top.
“To my surprise,” he added, “the buck bolted and ran off as soon as he heard the shot. The doe behind him, though, dropped dead on the ground. In the sunrise silhouette, I thought I was aiming at his heart, but it passed right beneath him and struck her in the kill spot.”
That, he explained, was why he only filled his doe tag that year, and missed the buck he really wanted.
Then there was Bob. Bob was a firearms nut. A collector. He loved to talk about his guns and to engage other hunters in spirited debates about the relative merits of different models and manufacturers and the endless choices of accessories and features.
One year Bob went to the big city and bought the rifle he had wanted for years. A Ruger International. Mannlicher-stocked, 18" barrel, trim classic style walnut stock, controlled feed, integral scope base. Short action .308 Winchester caliber. A real beauty.
As deer season approached, Bob talked endlessly about his new rifle and how great it was going to be to have it in November for the big hunt.
When deer season ended, all the guys asked Bob how the new rifle worked.
“Didn’t get a thing,” he said. “I saw several, including a huge buck with irregular antlers - at least 20 points. But every time I would site a deer in with the adjustable iron sites, I just couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger and spoil the perfect condition of the new rifle."
As the little gecko says in the commercial, "that story is a complete dramatization".
But my imaginary friend Bob reminds me of some preachers I know. They’ve spent years in seminary, studying the scriptures, honing their exegetical and homiletical skills. They’ve filled their office shelves with all the best books. But when they get up into the pulpit to speak, all they end up doing is showing off their fancy skills, failing to actually take aim at the specific needs and problems of the specific people in front of them, too enamored with their eloquence to actually pull the trigger and risk messing up the performance by offending someone.
They're like a hunter waving his fancy rifle at a buck, expecting the deer to fall over dead because it's so impressed with the hunter's arsenal.
The apostle Paul never had that problem. Just picture the scene as Epaphroditus is standing in front of the church at Philippi, reading the letter he has carried from Paul's Roman prison to these Christians. The congregation has been inspired by Paul's exhortations to live a life of joy, they have wept as Paul talked about the real possibility of his death and his courage in the face of it, they have pondered Paul's words about fellowship and unity in Christ. A very well crafted piece of exhortation.
And then, when they least expect it, Paul drags out into the open the dirty little secret that has been dragging the Philippian church down for a very long time:
I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to agree with each other in the Lord.
Philippians 4I can picture jaws dropping all over the crowd.
Jesus was also not afraid to offend.
He could have gone on literally forever putting on a dazzling miracle show, hoping to impress the Jewish religious leaders with His powers. Instead, he called them a "brood of vipers" and "whitewashed sepulchers", and cataloged their many sins against the flock they were supposed to be leading.
Maybe the pulpit isn't always the best place to "call out" church members who are squabbling – and maybe sometimes it is the right place. And maybe the preacher doesn't need to always refer to the sinners who are in the audience by pejorative names and accusatory titles. Then again, maybe sometimes he should.
Sometimes what people need is not encouragement and edification, but correction and rebuke.
And sometimes we could stand to deliver a dose of rebuke and correction to ourselves. Our time spent in the Word shouldn't just be spent looking for an uplifting quote. We need to be looking for God's blessings, even when the blessing is in the form of a well-aimed shot to the heart.
All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.
II Timothy 3
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