A Man from a Different World

Every now and then, an Idaho rancher heads into the big city. In a Stetson hat, white button-up, blue jeans, and cowboy boots, they stand out from the rest of us. They come from a different world.

Born and raised in the city, I grew up on quarter-acre plots, heavy traffic, and carefully tended lawns. At night, the stars get lost in the clutter of light. The constant hum of life disrupts any chance at stillness. I often imagine how different things would be without these distractions—man against nature, where survival depends on hard work, wits, and experience passed down through generations.

Standing in the presence of a man with a weathered face and calloused hands—someone who has spent his entire life on the ranch—I find myself standing a little straighter. I almost wish I had a cap to tip, a bolo tie to straighten, or a six-shooter to adjust on my hip. I am standing in the presence of a type of manhood that feels like it belongs to a bygone era.

Idaho ranchers live in a different world than the one I know.

For those who have placed their trust in Christ, we also inhabit a different world. The warning of Scripture is clear: do not get used to this one.

When you read through the book of Ephesians, you get a strong impression of the identity of the believer. We are different. We aren’t just set apart from the world; we are children of light in a world filled with darkness. We are called to be discerning in a landscape of distractions. Paul prescribes a pattern of living that isn’t based on following a list of rules, but on a devotion to remaining in Christ.

It sounds easy enough. But when we underestimate the power of darkness, our human nature tends to be forgetful and distracted. We follow the impulses of the flesh rather than the promptings of the Spirit. It is a battle. Perhaps that’s why the Bible paints portraits of warfare, chariots of judgment, and the vital importance of putting on the full armor of God.

War is hell—and that is exactly where the enemy wants you to be.

A light on top of a hill is not just a place for guidance; it is a target for destruction. While we are called to let our light shine to display the presence of Christ, the forces of evil see that light, too. In their eyes, you are an agent to be tracked, a soldier to be defeated, a skirmish to be strategized against. If we aren’t careful, we can be destroyed.

The Bible tells us not to be terrorized, but to be wary. Not to be tricked, but to be discerning. Be aware. Be still. Stand firm. These instructions from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians resonate just as loudly today as they did then.

Perhaps in my spiritual walk, I am becoming that man with the weathered face and gnarled hands—the one with the battered helmet and dented shield who has seen his share of battles. I want to be the one who can tell stories of near misses and miraculous victories when all hope seemed lost.

We live in a different world. That is why we don’t place our hope in what we see before us, but set our eyes of faith on what is unseen.

I look forward to the day when I stand in the presence of Christ. I will stand a little straighter because of Him, and I’ll tip my cap because of Him. And in that moment, it will all have been worth it. It will finally all make sense.