By Gary Miller
I spent a total of about 10 days in the Midwest, hunting deer. It’s always one of my favorite places to go. I always have great expectations, and those expectations are always bigger there than most other places I go. Over those 10 days, I saw plenty of good bucks that would have made the cut on my Tennessee or Virginia property. But the possibilities in the Midwest are greater in both numbers and size of bucks. I passed on a few 10-pointers and even one 11-pointer in hopes of seeing something that would be impressive at first glance. That is my criterion there. It is to see a buck that I know immediately I want to take. Sometimes that sight never comes. Sometimes it does and the opportunity to shoot never arrives. Sometimes it all comes together. And sometimes it all comes together and human error messes it all up. Human error is defined by me as the mistakes you are always capable of making as long as you’re human – no matter how skilled or knowledgeable you might be. In my case, I am the human who makes the error. Concerning my hunt, I made the human error. I missed the deer. Uggg! I’ve been doing this for 30 years, and I missed the deer. The sad part is that I will always be prone to miss a deer. But I don’t want to.
Do those last two sentences sound strange? Does it sound odd that I say, “While I will always mess up, I really don’t want to?” Well, in the Christian life, this is the real definition of repentance. For so many years, I was told that repentance was turning around and going in the other direction. But that’s really not it. And I’ll tell you one reason why. You and I have never been able to do that. Oh, we may have more hits than misses, but we are always going to miss. That is, while I may sin less than I used to, I still sin. And I always will. This sin is my human error. It is that I will never be able to fully turn and go the other way. But here’s the good news about our faith when it comes to repentance. Repentance is not a change of actions; it is a change of mind toward our actions. It’s saying, “But I didn’t want to.” And that’s the sign that we have put our faith in Jesus. It’s not always that my body has gone another direction, but that my mind has. That while I may have just sinned, my heart is grieved because I really didn’t want to.
Gary Miller has written Outdoor Truths articles for 21 years. He has also written five books which include compilations of his articles and a father/son devotional. He also speaks at wild-game dinners and men’s events for churches and associations. Stay updated on Outdoor Truths each week by subscribing at Outdoortruths.org. Miller can be reached via email at gary@outdoortruths.org.
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