Altitude, Antlers, & Adrenaline
Passing on the Tradition of Wise, Courageous Thinking
“Therefore, brethren, stand fast, and hold the traditions which ye have been taught, whether by word, or our epistle.” — 2 Thessalonians 2:15
Late in the hunt, my son Jonathan disappeared into a tangle of brush so thick I could barely see the top of his orange hat. The plan was simple: he would “push” the gully, and I would “block” below with the rifle. It was the same kind of teamwork we’d used on pheasants and quail.
Then a buck exploded out of cover.
I fired.
And without warning—another volley of shots cracked from somewhere down the ravine.
My stomach dropped. Other hunters. Close enough to send ricochets whining off rock and timber. In that instant, I didn’t care about the buck or the shot I’d made. I cared about one thing: my boy.
“Jonathan—get down, now!”
That moment changed the way I taught him from then on. Not because I stopped giving instructions, but because I realized something deeper:
Good parenting isn’t just passing down rules. It’s passing down judgment.
And judgment is built through critical thinking—not rebellion.
The mistake many parents make about “questions”
Somewhere along the way, many of us learned to hear a child’s question as pushback:
- “Why do we do it this way?”
- “How do we know that’s true?”
- “What if there’s a better option?”
If we’re tired, stressed, or afraid of losing influence, those questions can feel like disrespect.
But critical thinking isn’t defiance. It’s a skill: the ability to ask good questions, examine evidence, notice assumptions, and make sound decisions.
A question isn’t always a challenge to authority—often it’s a child reaching for wisdom.
And if we shut down questions, we don’t create obedience—we create either passivity (they stop thinking) or secrecy (they stop asking us and start asking someone else).
What hunting taught me about critical thinking
Before the first morning’s light, Jonathan and I walked ridge lines and timber pockets while I taught him to read the “text” of the land:
- deer droppings—old or fresh
- tracks—sharp edges or softened by time
- snow in the print—were they running?
- wind direction—who smells whom first?
I talked him through it like a classroom lesson, but it wasn’t theory. It was real. The wrong conclusion could mean wasted hours—or danger.
At one point, we came to urine near a trail, steam still lifting.
“What does that tell you?” I whispered.
He paused, then said, “They smelled us. They left fast.”
Then he narrowed his eyes and added, “And the wind’s in our face… so they caught us before we ever saw them.”
That’s critical thinking in the wild: observe → interpret → test your assumptions → adjust.
Critical thinking is simply learning to read reality—and respond with wisdom.
And it’s exactly what we want our kids doing in a world overflowing with opinions, pressure, and noise.
Critical thinking doesn’t erase tradition—it protects it
That’s where 2 Thessalonians 2:15 hits home.
Holding to tradition doesn’t mean refusing to think.
It means we pass down what’s true—and we teach our children how to recognize truth when we’re not in the room.
In the woods, I didn’t want Jonathan to “respect the rules of the hunt” only because I said so. I wanted him to understand why the rules exist: safety, stewardship, ethics, and reverence for life.
And later that day, when we encountered hunters who had been drinking, Jonathan quietly said, “The safety course warned about mixing alcohol and hunting.”
That wasn’t rebellion. That was discernment.
Tradition without discernment becomes fragile. Tradition with discernment becomes durable.
The heart of the lesson: critical thinking and a child’s conscience
On that ridge, Jonathan asked questions that mattered:
- “Are most hunters ethical?”
- “What about private property?”
- “Is it selfish to ask God to bless our hunt?”
Those weren’t attacks. Those were a young man trying to form a conscience.
And that’s what we want: children who can analyze ideas respectfully instead of absorbing whatever sounds confident or popular.
One practical way to frame it is this:
Academic understanding vs. personal belief
Your child can learn what a textbook says and evaluate it through a Judeo-Christian worldview—without panic, fear, or hostility. That ability to examine ideas carefully is part of mature critical thinking.
We don’t fear questions when we believe truth can stand in the light.
How to teach critical thinking without creating a war at home
You don’t need a curriculum to start. You need patterns.
Here are a few that work in everyday life (and research-backed parenting resources echo these same themes):
1) Create “safe questions” culture
Let your children disagree without disrespect—and ask without punishment.
Try:
- “That’s a fair question. What makes you think that?”
- “What evidence do you see?”
- “What’s another possibility?”
2) Think out loud in front of them
Model the process, not just the conclusion:
- “I’m not sure yet, so I’m going to check.”
- “Here’s my assumption—what if it’s wrong?”
- “If we choose this, what might happen next?”
That habit is repeatedly recommended as one of the most effective ways to teach thinking.
3) Let them solve real problems
If they say, “That’s not fair,” resist the urge to fix it immediately.
Ask: “What would be a fair solution?”
4) Use scenarios to practice decision-making
“What would you do if…?” builds mental reps before life gets expensive.
Problem-solving scenarios are widely used in classrooms for a reason—they train kids to slow down and choose wisely.
5) Reinforce the win when they reason well
When your child shows discernment, name it:
- “I’m proud of how you thought that through.”
- “You didn’t just react—you evaluated.”
- “That took courage.”
A father’s takeaway from the gunfire
When those shots rang out near my son, fear made one thing crystal clear:
I don’t just want my kids to follow my voice. I want them to recognize danger, evaluate people, and make wise decisions when my voice isn’t there.
That’s why critical thinking is not rebellion. It’s preparation.
It helps them:
- resist pressure
- weigh consequences
- speak up for themselves
- navigate adulthood with competence
And it supports what we’re trying to pass down: faith, character, tradition, and wisdom.
Closing thought:
If we treat every question as rebellion, we train our children to stop thinking—or to stop talking to us.
A simple challenge for this week
Pick one moment each day to invite critical thinking:
- at the dinner table
- in a news headline
- during a disagreement
- while planning money, time, or chores
Ask: “What do you think—and why?”
Then listen long enough for your child to become someone who can stand fast… and stand wise.
Stay Connected
Staying connected doesn’t mean controlling every answer.
It means staying engaged when the questions come.
Our children will face ideas that challenge their faith, values, and judgment long before we expect it. Silence won’t prepare them—but relationship will. Conversation will. Trust will.
Because when pressure rises, they won’t reach first for the loudest voice online.
They’ll reach for the one who taught them how to think, not just what to obey.
And that connection—patient, steady, and present—is where wisdom takes root.
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In His Service,Ron