Armidillo's

Watching dogs want out of the box to hunt is a special thing. Let me tell you about the time one of the best coon dogs I ever owned got himself boxed by what can only be described as a possum on the half shell.

A few years back I decided to head down to Alabama and hunt the Wheeler National Wildlife Refuge area with the brothers. My sister and brother-in-law were living around Huntsville at the time, and there ain’t a tighter hunting budget in the world than “free room and board.”

Now there is also something deeply entertaining about Uncle Shea rolling into one of those neat little subdivisions with dog boxes rattling, loud exhaust popping, and coon hounds singing backup vocals. You could almost hear property values falling and complaints with the HOA before I even parked.

I met up with the brothers around Decatur and we spent the day squirrel hunting. Beautiful country down there. Flat as a opened two-liter bottle of pop. Easy walking too. No climbing mountains like around home where every squirrel hunt feels like preparing for Everest.

That evening we grabbed supper, swapped lies about dogs and old hunts like all hunters do, and started making plans for coon hunting. We turned loose Tank and Tyge off the edge of a big field, and those dogs hit the timber rolling.

Didn’t take five minutes before I heard Tyge open up. I thought, “Buddy, this is fixing to be easy.” But something sounded strange. His bark sounded muffled. I figured maybe he had a coon holed up in a den tree and was sticking his head in and out. Not unusual. But Tank wasn’t backing him, and that part bothered me because Tank had enough sense to know when foolishness was underway.

So I walked a couple hundred yards into the woods and found Tyge halfway buried in a hole in the ground. I eased up there and looked down.

Wouldn’t you know it, an armadillo. Tyge had half his body underground trying to excavate that thing like he was strip mining.

I jerked him out of there and gave him a little correction. Told him we did not drive all the way to Alabama to become professional armadillo hunters. He looked at me like I was the unreasonable one in this arrangement.

So I cut him loose again. Three point two minutes later…“Mmmph! Mmmph! Mmmph!”

Same sound, this time I had to walk four hundred yards to find that fool body deep in another armadillo hole. At that point the humorous side of me had begun to depart.

After the third armored possum incident, Tyge got escorted back to the truck in disgrace. I put him in the dog box until I could recharge the training collar where we could have a more formal meeting of the minds.

There sat one of the finest coon dogs I owned… boxed up… sidelined… in the middle of some of the best coon country you could ask for.

Tyge wasn’t in that box because he couldn’t hunt.

He wasn’t there because he lacked talent. Wasn’t there because he didn’t belong in the woods. That dog had all the ability in the world. He got sidelined because he kept knowingly choosing rebellion over obedience.

The more I thought about it, the more it reminded me of Moses.

Now think about this for a minute. Moses wasn’t some backslidden pagan out worshipping golden calves at this point. This was Moses. The man God used to split the Red Sea. The man who stood before Pharaoh. The man who climbed the mountain and met with God.

Yet in Numbers 20, God told Moses to speak to the rock so water would come forth for the people. But Moses got frustrated and aggravated. Fed up with the constant complaining and some questioning Gods order. And instead of obeying exactly what God said, he struck the rock with his rod.

Now here’s what’s important: Moses already knew better. This wasn’t ignorance. This wasn’t confusion. This was a man who understood God’s voice and chose to do it his own way anyway.

So because of that act of rebellion, God told Moses he would not enter the Promised Land. Think about that. After all those years…All those miles…All those burdens…Moses climbed the mountain, looked across at the promise of God, and saw everything he had been leading toward… but never got to walk into it himself.

He got put in the box, you might say. Not abandoned, unloved, or unsaved. But sidelined from fully enjoying the promise because he knowingly disobeyed. Sitting and thinking that image hit me hard.

Tyge could hear the hunt still going on. Could probably hear Tank treeing in the distance. Could smell the woods. Could smell the coons. Could hear us walking and laughing.

The promise was all around him…But he couldn’t participate in it because he would not stop digging armadillos. Friend, there are Christians living exactly like that spiritually.

Saved? Yes. Loved by God? Absolutely. But boxed.

Watching others walk in joy, usefulness, peace, effectiveness, and blessing while they sit boxed up by repeated known sin and rebellion not in the will of God and therefore quenching the Spirit.

And many times it starts with something small. The first hole may honestly be weakness. A stumble, or moment of flesh.

But somewhere between hole number one and hole number three, it changes from stumbling to outright rebellion.

There is an old saying that says there is nothing wrong with a bird landing on your head if you swat it away, but if you let it build a nest there you are in trouble.

Tyge knew after the first correction. Moses knew before he struck the rock. And we usually know too.

We know that attitude isn’t right.

We know that relationship is pulling us away from God.

We know that bitterness is poisoning us.

We know the compromise.

We know the habit.

We know the hidden sin.

Yet sometimes we keep digging trash anyway. Quenching the correction of Holy Spirit. And eventually God, in His love, may say: “If you’re determined to keep chasing armadillos, you’re going to sit awhile.”

“But your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you, so that he will not hear.” – Isaiah 59:2

That dog box wasn’t punishment born out of hatred. It was correction. Because if Tyge was ever going to become what he was made to be, somebody had to stop him from missing his calling. Sometimes God has to stop us too.

Because there’s a terrible tragedy in standing close enough to see the promises of God while being sidelined from enjoying them because we refused to obey what we already knew was right.

So maybe the question is simple:

What armadillo keeps pulling you back into the hole that is limiting His presence and purpose in your life?

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 1 Co. 10:13