Good Call: Reflections on Faith, Family, and Fowl

Read Good Call: Reflections on Faith, Family, and Fowl Storyline:

RetailThe closer we look at the Robertson family, the more we discover the substance and authenticity below the surface of these well-known TV characters. In this enlightening book, Jase Robertson gives us a deep look behind his funnyman exterior. In addition to stories of life in the Robertson family and epic tales of hunting of all kinds, readers will get an inside look at Jase’s personal faith in the Creator of the outdoors he so dearly loves: “My first thoughts about God came in a duck blind as I gazed upon the diversity and beauty of creation. There is nothing in nature that can be reproduced or equaled by humans. None of our computers, microchips, or cell phones can duplicate what God has put forth. Viewing the details of this magnificent earth is better than any sermon from any preacher I have heard about the evidence of God.” More than a behind-the-scenes look at this beloved Duck Dynasty character, readers will be inspired and encouraged to implement Jase’s “good call” reflections on faith, family, and fowl into their own lives.**About the AuthorJase Robertson is the second oldest Robertson son and one of the favorite stars of A&E®’s Duck Dynasty®. Jase has been involved in the family business making duck calls since he was a boy. He graduated from Bible college after high school and worked part-time in ministry for two years before becoming Duck Commander’s first paid employee in the mid ‘90s. Now, family, hunting, and helping the family business succeed consume most of Jase’s time. Jase runs the manufacturing part of Duck Commander, making sure that every call is hand-tuned to be the best possible call. He and his wife, Missy, live in West Monroe, Louisiana, with their children and the rest of the Robertson clan. Mark Schlabach is the coauthor of the New York Times bestselling books, Happy, Happy, Happy, Si-cology 1, and The Duck Commander Family. He is one of the most respected and popular college football columnists in the country. He and his wife live in Madison, Georgia, with their three children. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.Good Call 1FORGIVING PHILMAKING PEACE WITH THE PASTA man’s wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense. —PROVERBS 19:11 By now, you might know the story of my dad’s life. If you haven’t heard it or read about it, here’s the most blunt way I can describe it: Phil Robertson wasn’t a very nice person from about the age of seventeen until he turned twenty-eight. In a lot of ways, my dad was an outlaw. He had no regard for rules, authority, or what was right or wrong; his only focus at the time was getting drunk and killing as many ducks as possible. And anyone standing in his way, even his own family, ran the risk of getting hurt. Don’t get me wrong; Phil Robertson eventually became a great husband, father, and businessman, and, most important, a disciple of Christ. After my dad’s repentance, he became the biggest influence in my life because of his love for his Creator, hunting and fishing, and nurturing God’s greatest creation. Once my dad turned from his wicked ways and submitted to Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior, he became a role model for people struggling to overcome their addictions and problems. It wasn’t so much that he focused on their problems but that he offered them a solution. His life wasn’t easy when he was drinking, partying, and committing other sins, and it certainly was difficult for the people who loved him most. But once my dad turned his life around, he made a profound impact on thousands of people by sharing God’s story of healing and hope. He became a man of faith, perseverance, and courage. But the decade or so before his baptism wasn’t easy for my mom or me and my brothers. My recollections of my childhood are kind of hazy, which might be a good thing, because I don’t have many fond memories of growing up until my father was born again; his becoming a new man is the most drastic change in a person I have ever seen. I remember my family owning a bar in Junction City, Arkansas, for a couple of years, and it seemed like every night ended with men rolling around on the ground and fighting, followed by flashing lights from police cars in the parking lot. It also seemed that no matter what, my dad usually won the fight. I remember one particular fight outside the bar, when an Asian-looking man grabbed a board. The man was doing all of these martial arts moves complete with sound effects, and all of a sudden he swung the board at my dad. In the blink of an eye, my dad grabbed the board out of his hands and popped him in the head with it! The guy fell like a sack of potatoes. My family lost the bar after my dad beat up the couple who owned the building after they’d had a dispute about rent. Phil hurt them pretty badly, and he fled into the swamp to avoid getting arrested. The people my dad beat up took about everything we had; in exchange they agreed not to press criminal charges against him. My mom moved our trailer near D’Arbonne Lake at Farmerville, Louisiana, and I was forced to change schools again. We moved a lot when I was a kid, and there never seemed to be much stability in our lives. After the fight at the bar, my dad was gone for several months. I remember going to visit him in the woods one time, and when we pulled up he was drinking beer with two of his buddies. They were living in a hut that didn’t even have electricity or running water. There was a massive pile of empty beer cans and liquor bottles. There was also a big pile of animal carcasses. It was unbelievable. As a kid, I’d never seen anything like it before. I remember getting out of the vehicle thinking, How long has my dad been out here? He was walking around barefoot. Of course, as his impressionable son, I thought he was the toughest man in the world because he was living in those conditions. My dad walked up to me and asked, “How’s it going?” We had a normal conversation right there in the middle of nowhere. This might sound crazy, but as I look back at the experience now, I think it taught me that a person is capable of living in the woods and surviving without the luxuries we have today. I probably realized then that I wanted to spend most of my life in the woods or on the water. My dad eventually moved back into the trailer with us, but he didn’t stop drinking. In fact, it only got worse. He often took out his anger on my mom, my brothers, and me, and even though I was young, I understood that it was the beer and liquor making him so mean. I feared being around him. I think my dad tried to quit drinking more than a few times, but alcohol always seemed to get the best of him. One night, while Phil was driving home from a hunt, he threw a half-empty liquor bottle out the window of his truck. I guess he finally decided it was time to stop drinking. But a few hours later, my dad had my brothers and me on the side of the road in the dark, searching a ditch for his liquor bottle. What might seem like terrible parenting was actually one of my first adventures in hunting. I found my dad’s bottle, so I figured I would one day make a pretty good tracker in the woods. In a lot of ways, my dad’s behavior made me shy and introverted, which is something I struggled with until I was a teenager. I never said much as a kid around my dad. I was afraid that if I did say something, I would get in trouble. It didn’t take me long to figure out that as long as I was out of his sight and didn’t say anything, I could pretty much stay out of harm’s way. I kept my mouth shut to survive, and I went into a cocoon as a kid because of my circumstances. I was kind of antisocial until high school, but then I realized I would have to be more vocal if I wanted to share my faith or get a date. Perhaps the most vivid memory I have of my early childhood is the night my dad kicked us out of our trailer. I was about seven years old at the time. I remember seeing my dad stretched out on the couch with a tall can of beer between his legs as we gathered our belongings in the middle of the night. We headed out the front door, not knowing when or if we would ever see him again. My mother was in tears and pleaded with him to let us stay, but he wouldn’t change his mind. He kept yelling at Kay to leave. I had no idea where she was taking my older brother, Alan; my younger brother, Willie; and me. We didn’t have any money, so it wasn’t like we were going to go stay in a hotel for a couple of weeks. We spent the night at my uncle Harold’s house, and then we moved into a low-rent apartment in West Monroe, Louisiana. White’s Ferry Road Church in West Monroe helped us get furniture and assisted my mother in paying the rent. Our move to the apartment complex is a foggy memory, but it seemed a lot more stable and safe than the place we left. My mom took a job at Howard Brothers Discount Stores, working in the corporate office, so Alan was left to take care of Willie and me when we weren’t in school. I didn’t see my father for a long time. I was bitter about it, too. No matter how mean your parents are or what they’re doing to you, as a kid they’re all you have, and that’s the way it is, for better or worse. Even though my dad wasn’t a nice person to be around, I couldn’t understand why in the world he would abandon his family. My dad’s reason for his path of ruin and misery during his first twenty-eight years on earth was that he just wanted to “be free.” Apparently, that meant leaving his wife and children behind so he could hunt, fish, and drink whenever he wanted. About the time I finally stopped wondering where my dad was, he showed up in a cool green Jeep outside of our apartment building. Earlier that day, he had driven to my mom’s office, and she found him crying in the parking lot. Phil begged her to take him back, and fortunately my mom found enough compassion and love in her heart to forgive him. She told him he had to stop drinking and disassociate himself from his unsavory friends. My dad met with William “Bill” Smith, the preacher at White’s Ferry Road Church. My dad studied the Bible with him and was introduced to Jesus Christ for the first time. After a couple of studies and a lot of soul-searching, my dad made a decision to repent and claim Christ as Lord, and he was baptized. Romans 6:1–4 discusses baptism as a reenactment of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection. The burial of the old Phil Robertson and the rebirth of the new man who surfaced was one of the most powerful influences of my life. I’m sure there were still plenty of rough times for him as he battled temptations over the next couple of years, but my brothers and I were happy our dad was back in our lives. My dad really got my attention during our first Christmas back together as a family again. He participated in the giving of gifts, and, more important, played the games we had received with us. He was turning into the father we had always wanted him to be. Looking back, it’s amazing that kids are so forgiving, because they really don’t understand all the details of what’s going on. They’re so innocent and naive. Despite everything that had happened in the past, I was happy my dad was finally paying attention to my brothers and me. That’s really the only thing we ever wanted from him. We were going to church a couple of times a week, and my mom seemed so happy that our family was together. I would love to say that my new church experience had a big impact on my life at the time, but it was uncomfortable for me to be around so m...