Am I a man?
Somehow boyhood failed to answer this question for us men.
You’d think with all that formal schooling, a man would know by the time he grabs his diploma and trots off stage. But the question, lodged deep down in the musty, dark, abandoned basement of the soul, rides along inside a man to the fraternity house, dorm room, or first day on a real job.
Am I a man?
The worst part about it all is this: Most men have no idea we even carry the question.
And without awareness, all hell breaks loose. Really. He creates hell on earth when he takes his question to work, friends, dating, his marriage, and success. When his question goes unanswered, relational chaos ensues.
Scary too that when he lives blind to his heart, he can go decades before the destruction surfaces.
Then life falls apart- his wife brings up the idea of separation; his boss delivers a rough annual review; he finds marijuana in his son’s gym bag- This disruption offers his heart four options:
1) Rage
2) Hide
3) Numb
4) Surrender and Journey Deeper
In the wreckage and rubble, “Am I a man?” waits beneath a gateway question: Will I stop to process how my search for identity intersects with my tragedy?
It does, because the search and question of identity shadows a man always.
The question must be answered. It won’t go away. He cannot outrun it. Like our thirst on a hot-muggy-I don’t want to go outside-summer day in the South, the question screams for attention. When he takes it to the wrong places, the wrong places leave him empty. Success, productivity, power, and a tryst with a trophy woman offer a shot glass of water. But the thirst returns. He wakes up the next morning to live in fear again.
Am I a man?
Probably not.
I should get someone else to tell me otherwise.
Because denial, prosperity, and fantasy will not destroy his question, he must do something different with it.
Up to this point, a man has asked his question to the wrong places, so repentance becomes step one.
He must do the last thing he would ever think of: He must own the question for himself; he must take it back.
He must take his question back from the woman, his job, his bank account, and anywhere else he has handed over his report card and demanded an A+.
Once he owns responsibility for the question, he must take it to proper places.
To the mirror. To a campfire of other men. To the wildness and kindness of God. Not always in that order, either, but certainly he needs all three. Sometimes God’s response only sounds like the wind. Other men can offer their hearts, but each man is limited to his own story. And all by himself, a man is just lonely. So he needs the intimate community of all three.
Likely he’ll need time to build relationship with each before any change occurs. That’s okay. He has a lifetime to excavate and unearth.
Am I a man?
I don’t know, but I want to find out.
Lord, show me a better way to discover.
