The Blunderbuss

The weather was great, so I grabbed my .58 cal Jaeger flintlock and my blunderbuss and went to the mountains looking for a bear. It was more a scouting run, since it was still early in the season to find bear. Still, a hunter is a hunter and I had to take a look.

I checked soft mud for tracks. I saw coyote, deer, and moose tracks. I saw three beautiful mule deer. That is always a treat. There were no signs of bear scat on the dirt mountain road. I kept looking.

Half way up the mountain, I saw something about 75 meters ahead, on the left of the road. It was nothing more than a black object, as big as a bucket. It could have been a log. I have been fooled before and stalked up on an imaginary bear, which turned out to be a log. But this black object had two bumps exactly where ears ought to be.

As usual, my hunting pack was on the floor next to me. It had all kinds of helpful gadgets. I had binoculars, a range finder, knives, compass, etc.. Sometimes I even open the pack and set the binoculars and range finder on the seat close by, so I could get them when I needed them. Then there are times that I am so eager to get out there, that I forget those tools. This was one of those times. So, I eased the transmission to neutral, and let the truck quietly roll backwards into the shade of some towering fir trees. I watched the black thing…and then it moved!

I quietly opened the truck door. The bear was still there. I grabbed the two flintlock guns and made a stalk towards it. The body of the bear was obscured by a little hill. I had to get up to that hill so I could get a shot. I almost made it to the hill and the wind changed for an instant. The bear got my scent and I heard it crashing through the woods making its get away.

“Oh well, that was exciting,” I thought. I could feel the effects of the adrenaline and the excitement. The bear was gone, so I quietly walked back to the truck, started the engine, and slowly began to move forward. I had hardly moved and I saw movement, black movement, but this time on the right side of the road, on the embankment. Some small trees were obscuring my vision, but that meant that they would screen my movement, too. I turned off the engine, grabbed the guns and primed the pan for the .58 cal rifle.

Crouching, I crept forward, staying in the shadows, and only moving when the bear dropped its guard. I don’t think the earlier dose of adrenaline had completely gone, and now I was felt like I was pushing 30% adrenaline. I made myself move slowly and breath deeply to help manage the excitement.

I don’t usually get so excited on a bear hunt. If I am carrying my .45-70 or my .375 H&H, I am only slightly excited. What made this so much different was I was carrying two flintlock guns I had made myself. Flintlock guns are finicky. They have to be loaded and managed with great care, or they may not fire. That thought, suppressed as I tried to make it, kept the adrenaline pumping.

I crept within, oh…50-60 meters. If I had my range finder, I would have known for certain; but no, it was still in my pack in the truck. Anyway, there was some brush between me and the bear. I didn’t want to take the chance of trying to plough a bullet through the brush because if the bullet hit a branch, it could be deflected on its course, and make a poor hit.

The bear knew something was up. It kept stopping, and sniffing the air. I think it must have picked up a trace scent from the truck, because I was now down-wind from it. The bear moved a little closer to a small opening, and I eased to the right to gain a shot. The bear took another step and I raised the rifle and aimed.

The front sight settled on the image of the broadside heart-lung area of the bear. I went through the mental checklist: set trigger-good, hammer back-good, sights-good. I touched the trigger and was greeted by a cloud of grey smoke from the muzzle. The bear was hit hard but wasn’t down. It was actually coming down the embankment, and in my direction.

I tend to fancy myself as a reasonable man, and the thought of just standing there with a wounded bear coming in my direction didn’t seem prudent. So, I moved away a couple of meters, and shifted my attention to the blunderbuss. I had to prime the pan before it could shoot. I was using a priming horn from a buffalo that my great grandfather had picked up in South Dakota, in the 1800’s.

I primed the pan, and closed the frizzen. The bear was just arriving at the gully next to the road, about 12 meters away. I cocked the hammer and raised the heavy barrel to aim.

The blunderbuss has a flared muzzle and no sights, so one doesn’t aim it, one points it and shoots. I had it loaded with 150 grains for black powder and nine .44 cal round balls. In the 1600 and 1700’s, the blunderbuss was the weapon of choice for close quarter combat. I hoped I had loaded it right, because I rather needed it to work just then.

I pointed the big muzzle at the bear, and it raised up on its front feet, looking directly at me. I pulled the trigger and sent nine heavy balls in his direction.

After leaving the muzzle, the lead balls begin to spread out making a lethal kill zone of about two feet in diameter at that range. Four of the bullets scored in the chest, and it slumped to the ground, dead.

When I was little boy of 8 years old, my grandfather Joe Pishion, told me that he trapped a wolf in Wisconsin and killed it with a blunderbuss. I don’t really know if he was telling the truth, or just giving me some country humour and spinning a yarn. I never forgot that story, and it gave me the idea to try to hunt with the blunderbuss one day. April 23, 2010 was the day that I fulfilled a dream that I held since childhood. There was something very satisfying in that hunt. I hadn’t felt that much excitement in a long while.

The Dragon Slayer

Every year, in the Spring time, a dragon emerges from its lair. Its scales are so closely fitting that no arrow or spear can find a crack. Its claws rake the boulders from the mountain side and its tail can snap grown trees in half like match sticks. Fear and terror take on palpable qualities and my knees shake as I go out to meet it. Yes, it is "tax time."

This year, the dragon seemed to have grown in size and its claws and teeth seemed much bigger than last year. That is because I changed residence locations, and bought a house. I bought the "Quick Tax" software and courageously determined to do battle. Actually, if there were any way I could weasel out of it, I would have, but this is one of those "manly" responsibilities I am supposed to be courageous about.

I proceeded to go through the steps as directed by the tax software. I had the usual 15 minute battle with the deductions section. Miss one little box and it won't take the information and I would start over. Muffled threats seemed to help subdue the dragon and it yielded, taking the information. "Ha! Take that, thou villain!"

My shouts of joy were quickly quashed as the dragon pulled out its most vicious tactic. It required me to attach the completed file to the email to electronically file the tax report. Oh, the dragon snorted fire and smoke in glee as I writhed in agony in the flames of frustration. I couldn't find the file! I tried and tried and tried again. Exhausted, I lay my head on the desk. My hands were tingling from the stress.

Jannie witnessed the battle and came to encourage me. Together we couldn't find the file, and then, beyond our understanding how or why, it appeared. We had looked in that section before and it wasn't there, but now it was visible. Like a weak spot in the scaly armor, I plunged my sword as my finger clicked on the mysterious file. It worked! The file was attached and I was able to electronically file my tax report.

I keep telling myself, "I got my taxes done," and sigh knowing the dragon won't threaten me any more this year. But that nagging thought, like the echo of a death cry in the mountains, still haunts me. The thought "it will be back next year."

Getting back to Writing

My last blog entry was in February. It was a long time ago. So was the siege of cancer treatments. Like siege warfare, there isn't much news to write. Just the same old battle plan, of travel, treatments, and fatigue. So, fatigued as I was, I didn't write. I don't blame anybody if they gave up on reading this blog. On the other hand, there was nothing I could do about it. Cancer is an inconvenient disease.

Jannie is finished with her chemo and radiation treatments. She is still in a treatment plan, but it doesn't involve travel, so we are getting back to picking up the pieces of our lives and trying to move ahead. Time will tell if God has chosen to defeat the disease.

Ministry continues to grow. God's Spirit continues to draw those He is calling. He chooses to use weak vessels, like jars of clay, to carry this priceless message to the world.

All glory to Him.

Spiritual Leadership

I’ve been thinking about how Christians approach the matter of “Being led of God.” It seems that some Believers put stock in their education, rationalism, and planning. These people are impressed by papers on the wall (diploma’s), big words, and well crafted flow charts. They value ingenuity and creativeness. So, a young man who distinguished himself in seminary with very high grades, is viewed as though he is qualified to be a spiritual leader.

Does seminary produce true spiritual leaders? I mean, a number of gifted teachers can impart information, and a sharp mind may absorb it, but it seems to me that is the road to making another teacher, not a spiritual leader. A teacher approaches information with a set of skills, and applies them over and over again. If the subject is New Testament Greek, mastery of that language means that one can confidently exegete a passage and know that it will be right. A teacher may be like a map. A map confidently shows the route to take to get to the destination. It doesn’t reveal valleys, or the heat of the sun, or humidity. It doesn’t say to speed up for the coming hill, or slow down for the next. A map is limited to the amount of information it gives, and it doesn’t take into account any physical or emotional information. But that isn’t the same as being a spiritual leader.

A spiritual leader, or guide, knows the route to take, and he has walked it. He knows the view of the sunrise from such and such a place, and the cold and fear of such and such valley. He knows the hundred of physical and emotional experiences that visit the traveller along the route. Because the guide knows experientially, when a friend speaks of the road he is on, and how he feels, the guide knows right where he is on the road.

When I watch the movie, “Twister”, I see a good illustration of what I am thinking. In the movie, there are two teams of tornado chasers, trying to solve the mystery of why tornado’s form and how they work. One leader, “Bill” is a scientist, but he has more than that. He has “instincts”. The other leader is “Jonas.” Jonas is also a scientist, but he relies on his high tech instruments to find tornados. Bill listens to the weather data, but also stops along the road, looking at the sky, smelling the air, watching how a handful of road side dust floats away with the air currents. Jonas always has his nose glued to his instruments.

In the movie, Bill always beats Jonas to the tornados. Bill anticipates what the tornado is going to do. Jonas, and his high financed entourage of black Suburbans are always trying to even equal Bill and his rag tag shoe-string financed team. But they always come in “fashionably late.”

Instincts come from experience. For Bill, his awareness of a hundred subtle weather variables gave him the edge in knowing tornados. How about for Christians? I wonder sometimes about those in leadership of churches, mission agencies, and Christian colleges. How many are being led by the Holy Spirit, and how many just think they are, but in truth, they are not even listening to Him?

I sat in a church elder/deacon board meeting when a question about vacation Bible school came up. It seems that a member of the congregation, had asked the leadership board in advance to consider and pray about whether they ought to run a VBS that summer. The chairman of the board and the pastor neglected to share the idea with anyone else on the board. When the church member showed up at the meeting and asked for a decision, the chairman of the leadership board advised the rest of us of the request. Then, without a pause, he asked, “All in favour of the motion to run VBS this summer raise your hand.”

The hands went up in favour of the motion, but that is not why I remember the event. I remember the look on the face of the church member, a look of shock and disbelief. He asked, “Is this how you do things here? You never even asked God what He wanted us to do!”

It seems that there are some “Jonas’s” that worm their way into Church leadership. They have smarts, and a college education. Maybe they have graduate level education. They have learned the ways of the world and brought them into Christian agencies, churches, and institutions. But they have no instincts of the moving of the Holy Spirit.

The Message Bible says this about 1 Corinthians 10:14, “So, my very dear friends, when you see people reducing God to something they can use or control, get out of their company as fast as you can.”

Pharisees in the time of the Lord Jesus had the religious elite status. They had the diplomas. They memorized huge portions of Scripture. But of them, Jesus said,

“You study the Scriptures because in them you think that you will find eternal life, but they speak about Me, yet you won’t come to me that you might have life.” Most of the Pharisees had no instincts for God. For them, religion and salvation was something they thought they controlled.

Remember the reference to the church leadership that voted “God’s will” without praying about it? I remember another board meeting when a church member came to the meeting. The fellow didn’t have a high school education. He worked as a carpet layer. Yet, when this man spoke about a matter before the leadership, I found myself leaning forward in my chair to listen to him. He had a wisdom which spoke right out of the Bible. Instincts?

For some people, they would say that they want the teacher/map model. They really like the Jonas types and look up to them. It makes them feel like they are in control, I guess.

For me, I am drawn to spiritual guides. I want experienced leaders who have years of listening for the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit. Not only do they know the way, but they encourage, and model a life rich in an attitude of expectancy. An expectancy that God is active, and leading my life.

Cancer update

Yesterday, Jannie had her 8th chemo treatment. That means there are four more to go.

Today, we had a meeting with the radiologist who will begin the radiation treatments in March.

So far, things are looking okay. Jannie doesn't have any major side effects from the treatments.

We are grateful for how well she is handling it all. We are grateful for safety on the roads considering the many miles we have to travel. We are grateful for our Church Family, the local people and those far away. We are sustained by their prayer and kind deeds .

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Axe-man at the Siege

For me, life has been like siege warfare. I know it is my imagination, but in my imagination, I find myself looking at the ramparts of a stone castle. The castle has a name and it is Cancer.

In siege warfare, there just isn't a lot to write home about. If I wrote it would go, "Hi Mom, another day watching the wall. I touched up the edges on my arrows...again. I keep looking for the enemy commander to make a mistake and present himself for a shot. So far, no chance."

There is a boring but taxing weariness of this warfare. I try to keep alert. I must not get discouraged. But I don't do siege warfare well. My personality is better suited to battle line formations. Those that know me say they think I am an "axe-man". They may be right. I like it when the command is given. The lines close and a short violent battle ensues. Yep, that is my preference, but it doesn't matter. The Commander has decreed that I would participate in this siege, and that's that.

There is some progress, or so they say. The sappers are working numerous tunnels towards the stone walls. It is a slow work, digging digging digging. They say we are making 20 yards a day. Once they get under the wall, they will dig out a chamber, re-enforce it with timber. Then they will fill it with brush. At the right time, the brush will be lit a fire and the whole chamber consumed with flames. The supporting timbers will burn and weaken and the area above will collapse. The castle wall will fall, or so the plan goes. Until then, I try to stay healthy and keep my weapons clean and sharp.

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Jannie is about 1/3 of the way through her chemo treatments. She lost her hair with the first battery of chemo. I think it is beginning to grow back now. Her new chemo treatments leave her tired, but not much else for side effects.

We have to go to Kelowna, two hours away, every couple of weeks for treatments. In between, other treatments are done locally.

We are still engaged in our work, and see progress. We are grateful. May God be glorified through this trial He has been pleased to visit us with. We rest in Him.

Re-Learning History

I have been reading a book called, 1812, War With America, by Jon Latimer. It is a good scholarly investigation into a war that is conspicuously ignored in American history. To the victors of a war, go the rights to spin the history the way they want it. The American revolution against Britain certainly had it "righteous" spin by historians. But the war of 1812, that one is hard to justify. At its core were values of bitterness against Britain, an unvarnished lust for Canada, and pride.

America provoked the war as a land grab. In its pride, it thought it would be a "promenade to Montreal." The Good Book says that "pride goes before a fall," and it certainly proved true in this case. Instead of an easy walk to Montreal, the war provoked the Indian Wars in the then known Western territories. America had bitten off more than it could chew. For the first year of the war, it basically spelled the loss of a lot of land by America. Detroit and Michilimackinac were in Canadian control. The successful response to aggression by America even found the White House, the seat of American government, in flames.

Andrew Jackson survived the war and used it to successfully propel him into a successful political career. He claimed to have killed the mighty Shawnee Chief, Tecumseh. There never was any proof of the claim, but it made good fuel for his bid to the presidency. The First Nations peoples like the Shawnee and the Creeks were vanquished in the war. The land of Ohio, Kentucky and Missouri were open for expansion for the myth of Manifest Destiny.

The story has naval battles for control of the Great Lakes. The British doctrine for naval battle was volume of fire. They liked a lot of guns, (cannons), and were skilled in rapid firing. The Americans believed that only hits count. Like their love of the accurate flintlock rifle, so they employed naval guns that could out-reach the British guns. They didn't shoot as fast as the British, but they soon dominated the Great Lakes being able to blast anyone out of the way at distance.

Maybe I am beginning to understand how Canadians view their neighbors south of the long undefended border. It isn't exactly like the view from the American side.

"The only really decisive and lasting result of the War of 1812 was the complete British victory in Canada that secured Canadian independence. It would reverberate through history to 1914 and again to 1939, when, in Britain's darkest hours of need, Canada stood proudly by its side." (p.408)