Growing up around farms had accustomed me to the pungent aroma that frequently accompanied the hog pens. I learned to tolerate the odor so that I could marvel at the life of those adorable portly porkers. I mean, what wasn't to love? They could cool off in an instant by flopping into a nearby mud puddle. They got to eat slop without their mothers correcting them and making vegetables part of the menu. Plus, I've never seen a pig brush their teeth or take a bath. What young boy would not be enamored with such a life of ease?
As I got older, and my temperament changed towards hygiene and the occasional vegetable, I developed a different taste for pigs. I no longer hung over the fence, dreaming of a carefree life. My thoughts were more aligned with things like bacon, sausage and barbecue. Along with my awakened palate for pork, I also enjoyed the occasional hunt for the feral variety of the swine family. However, I've only been successful once, and that wasn't without a measure of difficulty.
That memorable occasion took place several years ago when I was working as a school principal. We had a tradition of allowing graduating seniors to choose a fun place or event where they could have a trip to remember their school days more fondly. This particular class was right up my alley, full of farm boys who loved the outdoors. I wasn't surprised when their request came at the end of the year. “Mr. Mickey, we found a place to go hawg huntin', can we do it?” As I spit my imaginary Red Man chewing tobacco toward the floor, I said, “I reckon we can.”
Weeks later, I found myself on a guided hunt in Gainesville, Fla., facing down a boar that didn't seem entirely pleased to see me. The guide instructed me to “take him out.” Since I was sure he wasn't referring to a date, I knew that meant to shoot him, hopefully between the eyes. Wild hogs are not known for their scholarly reflections, but they have a pretty good recollection of which directions bullets come from and are apt to rapidly proceed in that direction upon being injured. I steadied my rifle in my customary shaky fashion and let a bullet fly. I almost let the bullet fly above his head, but I managed to strike the top of his head, sending him into a rage of sorts. His delirious snout soon honed in on my location, and he set off to greet me.
My alert guide decided the best option to save me was to backhand me completely out of the picture. I was soon sprawling downward in the direction of a healthy bush full of briars that instantly became acquainted with and attached to my face. While pondering the briars, I awaited an all-natural chiropractic adjustment, as I assumed that the angry hog would soon be trampling across my spine. As it turned out, he dropped dead only a few yards from my feet. I enjoyed every morsel of that beast, especially since I lived to taste it.
When life has since trampled me on a few occasions, I remember this cautionary tale because it offers some good advice. There are times when the things that protect us from great harm may also inflict what feels like more great harm. You may lose a job and go through a lengthy spell of financial hardship, only to land a much better job later. The new job might actually make greater use of your God-given talents, but it could be that you would have never chosen the new position had adversity not forced you in that direction.
You could go through other forms of harm that seem to destroy your confidence or reputation. Given time, you may discover that reputations are not what makes you valuable and that your confidence should never rest solely on your abilities. Confidence that lasts comes from finding that God is always in the mix of things, working out things for your good, even when it doesn't feel like it.
Those pesky and mildly painful briars in life may draw blood, but they won't drain the life out of you. They may just give you the perspective and faith to trust God more than you ever have in your life. From these vantage points, you could find the freedom to live a life that is “exceedingly, abundantly beyond anything that you could ask or think.” (Ephesians 3:20) Who knows, with your new-found freedom, you may just go “hog wild” for Jesus.