Sorry, Jesus—It’s Deer Season: When Hunting Replaces Holiness

Because apparently the Great Commission takes a backseat to the buck of a lifetime.

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“My Church Is in the Woods” – Said No Apostle Ever

et’s get something straight: You can’t just slap the word “church” onto your tree stand and call it sanctified. That buck you're stalking? He’s not an elder. That 20 minutes of silence waiting for a shot? That’s not worship. And no, whispering a quick prayer over your thermos of coffee while scanning the tree line does not count as corporate fellowship.

But somehow, in this rugged, flannel-soaked version of cultural Christianity, we’ve created this weird masculine gospel that equates a rifle and a four-wheeler with spiritual maturity. It’s the “I’m closer to God in the woods” crowd—you know, the ones who haven’t darkened the doors of a church since George W. was president, but will hike six miles through snow at 4 a.m. to get to a blind.

Let me lovingly and snarkily burst your camo bubble: Jesus didn’t die so you could play hide and seek with deer on Sunday morning. He died to build a Church. A gathered body. A blood-bought people who come together to worship, receive the Word, break bread, and hold each other accountable.

Hebrews 10:25 says, “Do not neglect to meet together, as is the habit of some…” Well, guess what? The “habit of some” looks a lot like blaze orange, frozen fingers, and a tag in your back pocket.

The apostles didn’t say, “Let us go into the wilderness where the trees are our sanctuary.” They planted churches, gathered regularly, preached in season and out, and risked their necks for the bride of Christ—not a buck in rut.

You want to enjoy nature? Fantastic. God made the woods. He painted the sky and handcrafted every antler. But creation isn’t church. It points to God—it doesn’t replace Him.

So if you’re skipping church for your hobby and calling it spiritual, you’re not a rugged outdoorsman—you’re just another guy dodging conviction with a rifle in hand.

The God of the Tree Stand Isn’t the God of the Bible

Let me go ahead and say what nobody else in your hunting club wants to: The God of the tree stand is usually just you in camo.

Here’s the truth—if your entire concept of worship is a vague feeling of “closeness to God” while watching a sunrise with a scoped rifle in hand, then what you’ve got isn’t theology. It’s sentimentality dressed in Realtree.

Psalm 19:1 says, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork.” Absolutely. No argument there. God’s creation does reflect His glory. That sunrise? It’s His brushstroke. The quiet? It’s a whisper of His order. The raw beauty of nature is designed to stir your soul.

But guess what creation can’t do? Preach the gospel. Hold you accountable. Administer communion. Baptize your kids. Sharpen your doctrine. Rebuke your sin. Lift you up in prayer. Celebrate your sanctification.

Creation may testify, but it does not disciple.

We’ve got too many men bowing to the altar of “I feel God in nature,” but can’t name five books of the Bible or submit to a pastor. You’re not being spiritual, bro—you’re avoiding submission.

Romans 10:17 says, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing through the Word of Christ.” Not by staring at a tree line. Not by scanning the horizon for antlers. Faith comes by hearing the preached Word.

And that Word? It tells you to gather (Acts 2:42), to submit (Hebrews 13:17), and to grow in grace and knowledge (2 Peter 3:18)—not hide out in camo while calling your solitude “spiritual.”

Let’s be honest: Most “God of the tree stand” types want a deity who lets them do what they want, when they want, and only speaks through warm feelings. That’s not Yahweh. That’s a deer-season version of a golden calf.

God reveals Himself through His Son, His Word, and His Church—not just your favorite hunting spot.

So go enjoy the woods. Admire the beauty. Thank God for it. Then get your boots off, get to church, and submit your rugged independence to the Lord who saved you.

You’re not a lone ranger. You’re a blood-bought sheep. And sheep don’t thrive alone—they get eaten.

Idolatry in Cam

Let’s quit pretending this is all innocent and harmless. It’s not just a hobby anymore. It’s worship.

How do I know? Simple—look at your calendar. Look at your bank statement. Look at your energy level when you’re out hunting compared to when you drag yourself to church (if you even go). That’s where your devotion lives.

Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21). Translation: If you spend more time polishing your rifle than examining your soul, we’ve got a problem.

You’d cancel work, rearrange your family schedule, prep your gear weeks in advance, and wake up before dawn for a shot at a ten-point buck. But you can’t make it to a 10 a.m. service across town once a week? Let me say this with love: that’s not discipleship. That’s full-blown idolatry.

Idolatry doesn’t always look like a golden statue. Sometimes it’s camo-wrapped and mounted above the fireplace.

The worst part is that many hunters-turned-hermits still claim to follow Christ, but what they’ve really done is build a religion that fits their lifestyle. It’s convenient. Custom-tailored. No accountability. No discomfort. Just a Jesus who nods along while you do whatever you want.

Let me be painfully clear: If you have crafted a god who exists only to bless your hobby, ignore your sin, and never interrupt your plans—that’s not the God of the Bible. That’s an idol.

God is not interested in being your sidekick. He demands lordship. That means He gets Sundays. He gets your time. He gets your allegiance.

You wouldn’t miss opening day for anything. But you miss the Lord’s Day like it’s optional. Maybe it’s time to ask yourself why.

Accountability Doesn’t Happen in a Deer Blind

Let’s talk about something hunting culture doesn’t do well: accountability.

You can be out in the woods for 12 hours a day and still come back with a heart full of unrepented sin. Why? Because your camo-covered solitude is an echo chamber. It doesn’t challenge you. It doesn’t correct you. It doesn’t love you with truth.

Proverbs 27:17 says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.” You know what doesn’t sharpen iron? Bark. Leaves. Silence. And certainly not the latest “Christian outdoorsman” podcast you’ve got in your earbuds while skipping church.

The local church is God’s gift for your sanctification. It’s where sin is confronted, growth is nurtured, and community gets real. And yes, sometimes real means awkward. Sometimes real means conviction. But if you're dodging church because someone might ask how you’re doing spiritually, that’s not freedom—that’s fear.

Here’s the hard truth: your hunting buddies probably won’t call you out when you start coasting spiritually. But your elder might. Your pastor will. Your brothers in Christ definitely should.

The church isn’t perfect, but it’s God’s design for your life in Christ. You can’t mature apart from the body. You can’t grow in isolation. Lone wolf Christianity isn’t tough—it’s dangerous.

No deer stand will ever rebuke you for your pornography problem. No shotgun will ever walk with you through a miscarriage. No tree line will ever baptize your child or serve you the Lord’s Supper. But the church? That’s where the people of God rally around the Word, carry each other’s burdens, and grow together into the fullness of Christ (Ephesians 4:13).

You don’t need another season of self-guided spirituality. You need a body of believers who will speak truth when you want to hide and point you to Christ when you want to coast.

You need community. Not camouflage.

Real Men Worship Together

Let’s end with a truth most “macho Christians” don’t want to admit: real masculinity doesn’t run from church—it leads in it.

Biblical manhood is not about how many points your buck had last season. It’s about how faithfully you shepherd your family. It’s about how consistently you submit to Christ. It’s about whether you’re more passionate about eternal souls than bagging that elusive 12-pointer.

Joshua said, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15). Not “As for me and my house, we’ll be in the deer blind.”

Men, you’ve been called to something higher than animal tracking. You’ve been called to spiritual leadership. You’re not just a husband, father, or employee. If you belong to Christ, you’re a soldier in His army, a servant in His kingdom, and a worshipper at His feet.

Your kids don’t need a dad who teaches them how to gut a deer. They need a dad who shows them what it looks like to treasure Jesus more than the thrill of a kill.

Your wife doesn’t need a man who can build the perfect blind. She needs one who will lead her to the throne of grace.

And the Church doesn’t need more men sitting out Sunday for a sunrise—they need men who will lock arms, raise their voices, and kneel in humility under the authority of God’s Word.

So let’s set the record straight: Sunday morning isn’t optional. Church isn’t a side gig. Worship isn’t a vibe. And masculinity isn’t defined by camo.

It’s defined by the Cross.

You want to be a real man? Be the one who gets his family up for church when nobody feels like going. Be the one who repents loudly, worships freely, and serves faithfully. Be the one who lives like Jesus is King—not just of Heaven, but of your calendar.

The woods will always be there. The deer will come again next season. But your soul? Your family? Your church?

That’s eternal.

Be a man of God. Not just a man in camo.