Good Things Are Not the Best Things

Trips have a funny way of sticking with you. Some you remember because everything went right… and some you remember because somewhere along the way, the Lord tapped you on the shoulder and said, “You paying attention?”

This one’s a little of both.

A few years back, me and the brothers heard about a place down at White River in Arkansas. They said it was a bumper crop kind of spot for coon and squirrel hunting. Only opened a couple weeks a year… which, if you’re a hunter, that’s more exciting than finding a ginseng patch with nobody watching it.

So we planned it out. Right after Thanksgiving. Now at that point, I hadn’t been married to Belinda but about a year. Life had shifted gears on me… in a good way. And this was gonna be the longest we’d been apart since saying “I do.” But I figured, “10 Days Hey, we’re grown folks. I used to live alone. Gonna be great.”

I headed out earlier than the brothers so I could go visit some family up in Northwest Arkansas. I took a couple of cur dogs, Tyge and Woody, riding shotgun like they owned the truck. About two hours into the drive, my phone rings.

It’s Belinda. She says, “I miss you.” And I’ll be honest… I was missing her too. But I said something real brave and heroic like, “Ditto,” and kept on rolling toward Arkansas to find tree rats and take the dogs to work.

So I got up to northwest Arkansas to see my my cousins and my aunt… she was one of those folks who didn’t just talk about Jesus. She always seemed so full of the love and joy of the Lord that its like it just splashed out on you when you got around her. So I was always looking for a reason to get around her.

After a couple days there, me and my cousin met up with the guys down at White River. And let me tell you… that place was something else. Big timber, swampy ground, the kind of place was so good that it would make a Pentecostal end service on time.

First day out squirrel hunting… we got into them quick. Only problem was I brought steel shot. Being near Stuttgart we were in duck country, and it was required to use steel shot. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever watched early model steel shot try to reach the top of an Arkansas hardwood… but it’s like tossing popcorn at a ceiling fan. I believe I saw that shot go up… pause… think about it… and come back down. Despite that, we got a few squirrels, covered a lot of ground, and headed back.

My cousin who had come down with us for a couple of days his knee had swollen up to about the size of a volleyball. I named it “Wilson” like that volleyball on Cast Away. He was done hunting day one whether he agreed with it or not.

That night after some dinner… we headed back out and turned loose on coons.

And I ain’t exaggerating when I say this… we treed 12 before midnight. Dogs belly-deep in swamp water, barking like they were getting paid by the bark. It was the kind of hunting you dream about.

But every time we’d pause… I’d check my phone. See a missed call from Belinda. (pre-text days) And that missing feeling? It wasn’t going away but it was growing.

Tuesday rolled around. More squirrels, this time with .22s… which worked a whole lot better than my floating popcorn shells from the day before.

Another big night of coon hunting. Everything was good. Real good.

But somewhere between the second cup of gas station coffee, my tenth Little Debbie oatmeal pie, and laying my head down that night, something started stirring in me.

I woke up early the next morning, looked around that house full of rough-looking buddies who smelled like wet dogs and poor hygiene… and it hit me. Clear as day.

“Boy… you’ve got a beautiful wife about 900 miles away… and you’re sitting here chasing rats and trash pandas, high-fiving a bunch of fellas that ain’t winning no beauty contests anytime soon. What are you doing?”

Now don’t get me wrong… I loved those guys. Loved the hunt. Loved every second of it. But in that moment, I realized something simple and strong:

This is good… but it ain’t the best.

So I packed my stuff up, told the boys, “No hard feelings, but I’ve got a wife at home I like being around,” she smells like coconut verbena, not Purina and perspiration and I hit the road about four days early.

Drove all the way back listening to Ronnie Milsap singing Smoky Mountain Rain, crying like I had watched where the red fern grows, but soon smiling like a man who finally remembered where home was.

Now here’s the lesson, Some things in life aren’t bad. They’re just not the best.

Hunting ain’t bad. I have been on hunts that long since. Hunting Buddies ain't bad, Sports teams ain’t bad. Lake houses, side-by-sides, hobbies, clubs… none of that’s bad.

But when good things start pushing out the best things… that’s where trouble starts knocking.

Jesus said it plain in Matthew 6:33: “Seek first the kingdom of God…” Not second. Not when you get around to it or finish your hunt. First.

Now the Bible tells us about Solomon, who was the wisest man ever to live, outside of Christ… he chased everything this world had to offer. Built it, studied it, bought it, experienced it.

And after all that, he sat back in Ecclesiastes 12:13 in his older years of life and said: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.”

In other words… “I tried it all, boys… and the only thing that lasted was God.” So don’t let good things crowd out God things. Don’t trade eternal for temporary and don’t get so busy enjoying life that you forget the One who gave it.

Because at the end of it all, the hunts fade, the stories get told, and the dogs get old. But time with God? That never comes back empty.

So love your hunting buddies…Just recognize, they ain’t the prettiest or best thing wanting to spend time with you.