Years ago, my parents came to a rural area of Arkansas and bought twenty-six acres of land in a small town where people are scarce and wilderness is abundant.  When they decided to build our house on this land, my mother insisted it be positioned squarely in the middle of the acreage atop a rolling hill. 

Unacquainted with the ideals of our family, the contractor tried to convince Mom that this was a foolish plan.  He pointed out that if my parents would consent to build the house on one edge of the property, they could sell the other part of the acreage in the future.  My mother lost no time in informing him that she had no plans to part with one square foot of her land, and the very reason she had moved to a remote country area was to avoid feeling cramped by close neighbors! 

However, even though we are quite a distance from any human neighbors, we still have hundreds of “neighbors” of other kinds.  The birdfeeders we provide year-round attract dozens of species of feathered friends—nuthatches, blue jays, cardinals, goldfinches, orioles, sparrows, and doves, just to name a few.  On dewy spring evenings, we can usually see a rabbit or two cropping grass in our front yard.  Chipmunks enjoy living in our landscaping, and it’s not an infrequent event to hear the scurrying of feet overhead when hardworking squirrels scamper over our roof. 

If you journey to the woods and mountains in the forested section of our property, farthest from our house, you’ll find larger and more impressive “neighbors.”  Our property has long been a refuge for large herds of deer.  They routinely come to our fruit trees, enjoying the harvest usually before we do, and it’s quite common for me to find a whole family group bedded down near our creek in the early mornings. 

Besides the deer, there are a few animals that are seen or heard only rarely but still make their presence unmistakable.  The first time I heard the raspy bark of a red fox scrape across the dusk, I was terrified; it is a completely unnerving sound.  Even more frightening than the fox’s cry is the chorus of howling wolves to which I’ve been treated on many a night.  They’ve been designed to scream in harmony with each other; this technique creates the impression of a larger pack than actually exists and strikes fear into the hearts of their prey.  (I assure you that both of these objectives are met with admirable effectiveness.)

The rarest of all animals are the big predators:  the black bear and the mountain lion.  It’s been a few years since I’ve personally seen a bear in this area, but based on reports and photos from neighbors as well as the tracks and clawed trees I’ve come across, they’re still active in my woods.  I’ve seen mountain lions a few times, slouching through the trees or creeping across a lonely ridge—just like all cats, they seem to appear only when I’m not expecting them.  I remember a few years ago when my father, noticing a large brown form near our creek, became convinced that my chocolate Lab, Angel, had gone wandering again.  He began calling the supposed dog in an aggrieved tone, but when the form revealed itself as a large panther that made an eight-foot leap from the ground to a tree, he was highly thankful it hadn’t responded to his calls. 

With all these animals around me, perhaps it’s not surprising that I grew up with a deep respect and a perpetual love for all the denizens of wild places.  I’ve always been fascinated with watching for these creatures, especially the mountain lions.  Together with Angel, and now my current dog Mercy, I’ve spent hours upon hours wandering the woods, teaching myself how to use the signs the animals left—a hollowed area where a deer had slept, a fresh wolf track in wet mud, a log that a bear had clawed to pieces—to gain a window into their very private lives.

Perhaps, then, you can imagine how excited I was when on my nineteenth birthday, my parents presented me with one of the best gifts I ever received.  They had bought me something I’d long admired and craved from afar—a WildGame Innovations trail camera. 

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this concept, a trail camera (also known as a game camera) is a motion-activated camera designed for outdoor use.  Hunters, trackers, and outdoor enthusiasts place these camouflaged cameras in strategic outdoor locations, and when wildlife trigger the motion sensor, the camera discreetly snaps a photo.  A night vision component even allows for photos of nocturnal visitors. 

I was absolutely thrilled to receive this device.  In my mind’s eye, I naively envisioned myself hanging it from the nearest tree and immediately capturing hundreds of pictures of the most elusive animals—even those seldom-seen bears and mountain lions.  The day after my birthday, I headed to the woods and used the included bungee cords to secure it to a suitable tree.  When I checked my camera a couple of days later and noticed that the memory card already held a promising number of photos, I lost no time in inserting it into my computer and preparing to admire the rare pictures I surely had acquired.

I was shocked, therefore, to realize that most of my photos were devoid of wildlife—just trees and branches and the landscape surrounding my camera.  A few photos featured deer, but even those shots weren’t impressive.  My hopes dampened, but not destroyed, I repeated the process of setting the camera up and then checking the card in a couple of days.  Again and again, I found the same results, until I began to become seriously discouraged.  I knew there were abundant animals in the area.  I’d heard their howls, seen their prints, even glimpsed them moving through the trees.  So why wasn’t my camera capturing them?

My passion for wildlife was still greater than my discouragement, so I didn’t give up.  Instead, I began researching.  In online magazines, blogs, and even handouts at outdoors stores, I studied how successful trail camera users had conducted their setups, memorizing facts and poring over diagrams.  At the same time, I also experimented with my camera, trying different angles, different locations, and different methods of securing it.  The management and improvement of my trail camera became my favorite hobby. 

It didn’t take me long to learn the key facets of trail camera setup.  And once I knew these essentials, it wasn’t hard to figure out why my early attempts had been so unsuccessful.  For starters, placing the camera in the woods wasn’t enough; it also had to be near a stream, a deer trail, a gap in a fence, or some other location that naturally drew wildlife.  Also, the dimensions had to be exact; it had to be at least two feet off the ground, facing north for the best lighting conditions.  Furthermore, some sort of attractant was needed—I learned that deer preferred mineral licks, while bears found crushed acorns or (better yet) Krispy Kreme donuts irresistible.  Lastly, and most importantly, the camera demanded patience—being left undisturbed for long periods of time.  By checking it every couple of days, I was only leaving my scent more abundantly and making the whole area less inviting to wildlife.

These were just a few of the facts I had to learn, because although the trail camera was a gift, discovering how to use it was work—work I had to invest in order to enjoy the gift as it was intended.

Isn’t this a lot like our relationship with God? 

God “gives the Spirit without measure” (John 3:34 ESV).  Each of us, upon adoption into God’s family, receives the unconditional, unlimited gift of His Holy Spirit.  There’s nothing we can do to merit this blessing, and likewise, there’s nothing we can do to disqualify ourselves from receiving it.  It is God’s promise that we truly have been saved and that we will live forever with Him.  However, although we don’t have to do anything to secure our salvation, we can’t bypass the hard work of learning to use this gift properly.

To some, this sounds off-putting.  Why would a free gift require work?  If we are saved by grace, why do our actions matter?

To be clear, the works that we do don’t in any way affect the gift of our salvation.  Being adopted into God’s family means that “by grace [we] have been saved through faith”; Paul even reminds us, “And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8 ESV).  Our eternal salvation is assured.  In theological terms, our justification—the act of being made right with God through Jesus’ blood—is finished.  However, our sanctification—the process of becoming more like Jesus, day by day—is ongoing. 

Think again about my game camera.  During the months it took to learn how to use my camera, my parents didn’t retract their gift.  My skill in using it didn’t determine whether or not I was allowed to retain it.  Even if I had never learned to use it, even if I had stuffed it into a cabinet and allowed it to sit there completely untouched, I would still have been able to claim ownership of it.   

However, my parents would have been disappointed; they would probably have felt quite hurt that I valued their gift so lightly.  In addition, I would never have received the full benefit of it.  A trail camera is no good sitting in a cabinet.  It is designed to be used, and to be hidden contradicts its very nature.

This, then, is how it is for us as Christians.  We can know God and receive the promise of His eternal protection without ever utilizing the precious gift of the Holy Spirit.  However, I can’t help but believe that it saddens the heart of God when He sees His children indifferent to His wonderful gifts, like His Word, His Spirit, and the privilege of communicating with Him through prayer.  Even more seriously, when we disregard the gifts of God, we stunt our own spiritual growth. 

Some Christians assume, as I did with my camera, that being in the right environment is enough.  I positioned my camera in an area where I knew there was abundant wildlife and hoped for the best.  Regrettably, some people adopt this mindset when it comes to God.  They feel that by immersing themselves in places full of God’s Presence—a church, a Sunday school class, a godly family—they will somehow absorb spiritual growth automatically.  Don’t get me wrong; all of these places and activities are important.  However, what’s missing in the lives of these believers is intentionality. 

The gift of walking with God each day takes practice.  Just as I can’t randomly abandon my camera in the woods and expect to find thousands of professional-quality photos on it in the morning, we can’t leave our relationship with God to chance and still expect to cultivate strong character and abiding faith. 

Consider this verse:  “Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self….Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” (Colossians 3:9-10a, 12 ESV).  This passage shows the intentionality of our walk with God.  We have to consciously choose to “put on” certain behaviors and mindsets, like empathy, gentleness, and a self-effacing disposition.  Likewise, we have to “put off” or discard old habits and opinions. 

This is the transformative work of living for God—learning to exchange the broken-down pieces of our lives for His firm foundation.  And yes, this takes work.  But here’s the beautiful part:  because we love God, the effort it takes to grow closer to Him is not drudgery but joy.  Consider an artist practicing diligently to hone her craft by mixing colors, preparing canvases, and sketching subjects.  Excellence in any of these areas takes a great deal of labor, but the artist does not mind.  Why?  Because she is focused on more than just producing a beautiful painting.  She enjoys the process of painting itself. 

And this is what I’ve discovered with my camera.  When I first received it, I was completely focused on capturing those high-quality photos of the wildlife in my vicinity.  I checked that memory card constantly and was perpetually frustrated with the lack of spectacular pictures. 

But before I quite realized what had happened, I was no longer obsessed with the photos I was capturing.  Instead, I became captivated by the experience. 

Tinkering with my game camera setup is still one of my favorite hobbies.  I still spend countless hours, especially in the fall and winter, tramping through the woods, scouting locations, selecting attractant, and even building bait stations.  But now I’m motivated by a love of the process—a joy in sharpening my skills, in exploring the woods, in anticipating the moves of the animals around me. 

And as we draw closer to God, as we seek to become better able to follow His voice, I’m convinced that we will have that same experience.  We’ll come to realize that the ultimate goal of this life isn’t checking off all the spiritual boxes or receiving some divine stamp of approval.  And God doesn’t command us to become more like Him so that He can lay a crushing load of expectation on our shoulders or mercilessly flog us into rigorous obedience.  As we know Him more, as we enter deeper into His embrace, we learn the lesson that has blossomed in the hearts of God’s people for centuries—yes, living in His light requires diligent work, and the seeds of faith must be carefully tended.  But the eternal “crown of righteousness” (2 Timothy 4:8 ESV) isn’t our only compensation.  Living day by day in the light of our Lord, leaning ever more fully into His loving arms, is a beautiful reward all its own. 

Did you enjoy this post? What are some ways you’ve seen your own walk with the Lord grow? Let me know in the comments! As always, don’t forget to subscribe and share this post with your friends.

DON’T FORGET: the next post is my special mystery release, coming December 1! Exciting things are in store, so stay tuned!