Kilgo – “In Pursuit of Something Real”

There were two men that have made an impact in how I look at life, the planet we live on and its Creator. One was a world-famous scientist and world traveler, Karl-Erik Eriksson, and the other a retired English professor who loved the outdoors and writing about it. I will share about the latter first.

Jim “Doc” Kilgo and I had a ridiculously close friendship for a sadly short duration of time, around two years, before he died. I first met Jim at a Christian leadership event, or at least that’s what I was told it was, before I found out it was an introduction to the Holy Spirit for most people, called The Walk to Emmaus. I was roommates with his son John, who was a federal wildlife biologist in South Carolina. He and I hit it off from the beginning as he loved to hunt and didn’t mind me bragging about all the animals I had taken with a bow. Which really, in bowhunting terms, wasn’t a sufficient enough number to brag about anyhow.

John spent most of his side of the conversation talking about his dad and the books he had written. I remember him asking if I had heard of Jim and I was embarrassed to say that I hadn’t. Well, the retreat weekend came to an end and after a brief closing ceremony, I was emotionally drained and spiritually on fire. Not the mountain top stuff, but I was saturated in the Holy Spirit and hungry to learn more and experience His presence at a greater depth. So, I wasn’t very focused on what was going on around me and after hugging my wife, Laura, I saw John leaving so I said good bye and he introduced me to his dad, Jim and his mother, Jane. I can’t remember what was said but I remembered Jim correcting my English, something he denied to his death, but it is fun to mention it now.

For a year prior to the Emmaus event I attended, I had started to prepare for my biggest safari ever with a bow, where I was planning to hunt a lion, leopard, cape buffalo, hippo and crocodile on a classic safari where I could take two guests as observers. I had asked Stuart, a 21-year-old college student, to video the safari for me. He was a kid I had known for most of his life as he had become like a son to me since his father had divorced his mother and had little contact with his sons at that time. As of the Emmaus Walk event, I had not filled the spot for the second observer and I prayed daily for the Holy Spirit to guide me to the other guy, someone that was tough, reliable and would hold his water under pressure since he would likely be on the ground with me when I stalked one of these animals, the dangerous ones.

Unfortunately, no one came to mind, well almost no one, just a guy somewhat sickly with soft hands that started breathing hard after walking a few fast steps as he was in remission from prostate cancer. He was someone I didn’t even know really, as I just met him once and he corrected my English, and that’s all I could remember about him. But God’s ways are usually not my ways, so I was conflicted. I don’t want to sound like I have any real spiritual depth that causes me to hear more than others, but when the Holy Spirit speaks and I have ears to hear, He can be loud and persistent. And this is one of those times that the Hound was relentless as He wanted this guy I was seeing in my spirit to go! I prayed daily for relief. “Please don’t make me take this guy to Africa! I’m going to get him killed or You are, but I will get blamed for it. Please give me someone I can feel good about!”
In March of 2000, was the next Emmaus Walk event and I was scheduled as a volunteer to work in the kitchen. I knew Jim would be there as he was supposed to speak at the event, so this was my opportunity to put this behind me. Of all things, when I pulled up on the grassy hill we used as a parking lot at the Mennonite Camp we were renting, there was Jim getting out of his truck. I hurried to catch him before anyone else could interrupt, as I wanted this to be behind me for the weekend.

I remember approaching Jim and introducing myself and he said, “I know who you are.” I thought, he only met me once and I didn’t think I made much of an impression. But here it went and I began stammering about the safari and where I was going and how dangerous it would be, and knowing it to be extremely short notice as I was leaving in 3 months and it would cost him at least $4500 to go. He stared at me a moment and asked, “Why are you asking me?” I lied and said,” I don’t know, just thought for some reason you might want to go?” After all, who would say the Holy Spirit told me to? That would be the kiss of death, because ‘holy rollers’ like Jim rarely say no to God. I say rarely because if I said never, you would call bull hockey on that one. He said, “You really caught me off guard, I will need to think about it, thanks for asking though.” “Oh sure,” I said.

The next morning, I was serving coffee to the guys as they came in for breakfast, and one of the guys in Jim’s cabin said that he heard that Jim was going to Africa with me, and then another and another. And I started getting sick to my stomach as I knew I had stuck my foot so far down my throat that there was no way out. Jim didn’t say anything to me that day about it, but I knew we would have the conversation eventually. It finally came later in the weekend, as he asked me to come hear him speak, he just said, “I’m going!” I said,” Are you sure, have you talked to Jane about it?” He said, “I’m going, before you change your mind!” I thought to myself, what have I done? I’m screwed, the safari I had dreamed of is about to be a babysitting expedition. But, I did it to myself or You did it to me, Holy Spirit, but why? When Jim spoke that night, he seemed to have an intensity and urgency about his subject, Jesus. He was captivating, it went way beyond being a great speaker. God was speaking through him to every man in that room and most didn’t have a clue about me, Jim and Africa.

A couple days after the weekend, I met with Jim and told him what I was expecting from him. He was to get himself in shape to hunt, as he was going be the safari photographer and if he couldn’t perform his task I would just leave him in the camp. I was not easy on him, matter of fact, I think I shocked him because he knew by my demeanor that I was dead serious. He was not going to jeopardize my chances to kill a lion, leopard, or cape buffalo. He asked, “Did you invite me so that I would write a book about you, cause that’s not happening.” The thought had not crossed my mind. I said,” No, the only reason I asked you was because the Holy Spirit said that He wanted you to be able to experience Africa, you were not my choice, I’m just trying to be obedient and actually, I was hoping you would say no.”

That conversation was the beginning of a very frank and honest relationship that we would enjoy as long as he lived. The Holy Spirit said to bring him but never mentioned coddling him, and I wasn’t. As I said earlier, something had changed in Jim as he became serious about holding up his end of the bargain. He had been on hormone therapy for his cancer and had an uphill battle fighting muscle deterioration, fatigue, and fear. He wanted to live before I asked him to join me on safari but now he was driven to live and he didn’t want to let any failure on his part prevent him from going.

If Jane thought he couldn’t make it home alive, she could stop him from going, but I don’t think she would have done it. He shared with me and several of his friends that he had dreamed of going to Africa, since he was 12 years old, and experience it like his favorite author, Hemingway. He started walking as much as possible, doing pushups, and any other exercise that would give him back some strength and endurance. One day he shook my hand and actually had some grip. I was impressed. I took him turkey hunting with me and Stuart so Stuart, my videographer, could practice running the video cameras in a real hunting situation. We had walked about a mile round trip and Jim asked me why I invited him and I was honest, I said,” I just wanted to see how tough a sumbitch you were.” He laughed and said, “I thought so.” We all laughed and that’s when the real bonding began.

You may have figured out by now that I’m not a patronizer. I despise it. For me, it’s like puking out generous blather to lather…not me! If I say something good about what I see you doing to you, you earned it, from my simple-minded view. Kilgo was earning his keep and gaining my respect. I began to believe it meant as much to him as it did to me.The three of us were inseparable for most of the six weeks before the hunt, as we had so much to sort out. I again, wanted to do something unique on this safari so I asked a few churches and some stores to donate shoes to take with us to give to some local kids near Mfuwe for school. Well, that turned out too good, as the newspaper found out about it from a friend at church and before we knew it, we had 600 pairs donated! I had only enough room in the duffle bags for 400 pairs so I gave the rest to other missions headed to Central and South America.

We were ready to go with the exception of going to Atlanta to fill out pre-travel customs forms identifying all bows, guns, and film equipment that was going with us. I remember a worship song coming on the radio as I drove with Jim bellowing, “The mountains will fall and the seas will roar at the sound of His name!” It’s almost time to hunt and we were ready and excited to take on the challenge.

Mfuwe, Zambia is a long, long way from Atlanta. We first flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, then to Lusaka, Zambia, and then the next morning after being in the air almost 24 hours to Mfuwe in the bush near the Luangwa River where our camp was waiting on us. We had several issues at the airports’ local customs that ended in a hundred-dollar extortion and later at the hotel as people found out about the shoes and I gave a couple pairs away. So, after being warned that I may have visitors that night, I slept with one of the rifles loaded. Lusaka is one of those African cities where you hear gun fire all night anyhow.

When we arrived at Mfuwe we were to be picked up by our (PH), professional hunter/guide, Harry Chapman, who I was booked to hunt with for 21 days. We could only hope that he would be waiting on us at the airport and enthused about bowhunting dangerous game. And, he was!
The next morning, after making a run for the small commuter plane with the shoes, our one-hour flight landed in Mfuwe and some of the trackers along with Harry’s nephew, Karim, loaded our gear and shoes in the back of the old 70’s model Land Rover with its high back seat in the rear where Jim and Stuart could see above the driver and his copilot or client, whatever you want to call me and we headed for the bush. An elephant ran out in the road behind the truck just before we entered the camp’s main gate, and I knew I was where I belonged. As usual with traveling on multiple planes and airlines, my bows didn’t make the final flight so we couldn’t bow hunt for another day, but could hunt an impala for camp meat the first day with a rifle and also check a few baits of cape buffalo quarter sections that Harry had hung a couple days before our arrival that a German client had killed earlier in the week, even though I had been assured when I booked the safari that I would be the first hunter in the camp since I was bow hunting. Inconsistencies became the norm on this adventure! At least he hung baits.

Doc was in the first Heaven, from man’s perspective, called Eden by some, and Dark Africa by some, where there were no fences nor boundaries, and all wild beasts moved about as they pleased. It was the Luangwa River valley explored by Livingston, whose heart was buried a short distance from where our camp was located. We were in wild Africa where, at night, the elephants could walk into camp and eat morula nuts out of the trees bordering us, and leopards walked through looking for an easy snack, and hippos walked by ignoring our existence. We ate well that night, and because Jim wanted to relive Hemingway’s Green Hills of Africa we sat around the campfire at the edge of the sand flat about a hundred yards from the river smoking cigars and drinking some Hemingway concoction.

The next morning, we woke to the sound of doves cooing, monkeys chattering and an occasional hippo bellowing, the fragrance in the air was intoxicating as Dark Africa smells different than domestic Africa, I don’t know why, maybe because every creature is unencumbered to travel at will without a fence to control it. It just smells wild and we were soaking it in that first morning. We had two things on the agenda, camp meat and get my bows on the incoming flight from Lusaka. It quickly became time for me to focus after we picked my bows up at the airport and I was able to shoot some at camp.

I could feel it. My personality was changing as I knew that I would have limited opportunities at the animals I most wanted to hunt and I didn’t want to waste a minute. I wanted to get after it! But, first things first, we needed camp meat and Harry needed to observe his hunter in action, I could sense his anxiety about what I was intent on accomplishing. He said, “Let’s go get some camp meat, we need something to eat tonight.” I was nervous as I wanted to assure Harry that I was capable, and missing the first animal wasn’t the way to do it. Fortunately, I didn’t, actually the impala dropped in its tracks about a hundred yards away. Jim patted me on the back, as he and Stuart probably sensed my anxiety, and they were my biggest cheerleaders. Jim really enjoyed that first day as he and Karim identified every bird we encountered. Jim was an avid bird watcher and lover of all that was natural. We had that in common, as I live for the wild side.

During the first week, we had hunted the cape buffalo, and were now in pursuit of a leopard. As Stuart, Harry and I were sweating in the skinning shed, Jim and Karim were having a conversation about Christians that would later prove to be a watershed moment. The explanation that Jim crafted as he spoke so clearly and deeply captured the essence of who I am and my mission in life.

Jim described that conversation he had with Karim in his book, “The Colors of Africa”, where he described us like this:

Karim asked, “Are you a Christian?”
What a naked question. Asked in the light of a campfire, against a background of hippo sounds, it required a naked answer—no equivocation, no academic window dressing—yet what would a
simple yes or no mean to this young Muslim from Zambia who had lost his father to a crocodile? Did he understand Christianity as a cultural bias mediated by the historical church or as an
active faith grounded in scripture and experience? “Consider the difference between Steve and me on this safari,” I said at last. “Steve is the hunter, I the observer. Most people who
call themselves Christian can probably be divided into two such groups. The observer goes to church, recites the creed, even takes communion, but whatever happens, happens only in his
head. On one occasion Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do men say that I am?’ The ‘observer Christian’ can answer that question all day long because it’s just academic, see? But then Jesus
asked them, ‘Who do you that say I am?’ And that’s where the observer runs out of answers. In fact, he will usually object to the question as none of your business, and that’s a pretty
good sign that he’s just an observer. The hunter kind of Christian, on the other hand, has a story to tell because he’s in pursuit of something real, not just a theological idea.”
“And that’s the kind you are, the hunter?”
“I would like to think so. But there are hunters and then there are hunters, as you know.”

 

THOUGHTS FROM THE HUNTER KIND

 

The Hunter Kind…. those who pursue wild game in the bush and those, when compelled by the Spirit, run after God. I am the Hunter Kind when it comes to going on safaris, bow hunting wild and dangerous animals and being obsessed, at times, with the whole idea! But what I’ve come to know in my spiritual journey, I’m also the Hunter Kind of Christian…in pursuit of something real!

What is the Hunter Kind?

Deuteronomy 4:29 29 (NKJV) says, “But if from there you seek the LORD your God, you will find him if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul.”

Becoming the Hunter Kind of Christian requires some things of us. First, it requires that we actually pursue the relationship, seeking to know God, every day, usually by reading the Bible to get a better understanding of what He wants for us and praying for His guidance. We commit to the chase…to be the trackers of Truth and to know with great certainty that when we choose to seek Him, we will find Him.

As I share my real-life stories with you of becoming the Hunter Kind, my prayer for you is that you will be encouraged and know that God has already given you all you need to pursue Him. Through my life stories, you will know absolutely that God has mercy and grace for even the most notorious of sinners, as I am one. But, despite my transgressions, I’m forgiven and only hope that you begin to see that it takes strength, grit and a deep commitment to be God’s Hunter Kind…and I welcome you on the hunt!

Prayer of the Hunter Kind:

God, I come to you today with the heart that desires above all else to see You. I commit myself to becoming more and more the Hunter Kind of Christian. I know that I have much to learn on this adventure called life, but I know that when I seek You, Your Word tells me that I will find You.
Thank You for allowing me to be the Hunter Kind of Christian and fill my heart with an ever-growing longing to grow deeper and deeper in my knowledge, love and relationship with You.
Amen…