The Awakening

It was the summer following my freshman year of college, way back in the 1900's, as my boys would say.  I was living in Boston and attending Northeastern University as a criminal justice major.  I was attracted to NU for their coop program, but not for their location!  I am from the country a little farther north, and I was not happy with big city living.

I was also at a place in life where things were changing internally.  My parents had divorced only a couple of years earlier, which prompted me to begin asking some questions.

Big questions.

I had grown up in church.  I would like to say I was full of faith, but in retrospect, I was full of religion and somewhat unfamiliar with faith.  The big questions I began to ask and the answers I found prompted me to distance myself from the religion which had become so familiar.  I was unable to separate my faith from my religion at that point, so I packed God in a box and left him to collect dust in the attic of my soul with all the other stuff I didn't need anymore.

I was working at my first coop job as a criminal justice major.  I was a security guard at a local hospital.  It is not my favorite of my work experiences.  It's not now, and it wasn't then!  Life was expensive, even at my low standard of living as a student.  At my regular rate of pay, I was not going to be able to make my housing payment for the quarter and I needed a plan.

Maybe this is the right moment to say how significant desperation has been in my life.  It has really worked to my advantage in many ways.  My moments of desperation have been some of the most difficult, most transformative, and oddly, some of the most encouraging moments of my life.

Desperation led to an awakening I didn't realize I was longing to experience.

This was one of those very difficult, transformative, and encouraging moments--maybe I should say seasons instead of moments.

It didn't happen all at once.

In any case, I prayed an emergency prayer, in case there really was a God and he could hear me from the attic . . . in case he really had a plan.  After all, if there really was a God with a plan, being his plan it was likely a good one.  I prayed one of the most significant prayers of my life, though I had no idea how significant it would turn out to be.

I don't remember my exact words, but it went something like this,

"God, if you are there and if you have a plan, I want to know what it is, and I'll go along with it."

This would turn out to be one of the most significant things I have ever done.

In my head, I was using a little bit of reverse psychology, because I was convinced God's plan would involve me going back up north to the country where I wanted to be.  I was sure God would not want me to stay in the city being so expensive and such, but as silly as it sounds, I didn't want to bias his opinion, so I just kept that little secret to myself.

I knew diligence was virtuous, so I worked hard.  I had myself convinced that when I worked hard and still could not pay for my rent, this would be the sign I was seeking that it was time to go home.  I knew just how this was going to go.  So, I worked.  I took all the extra hours I could at this security job.  I worked weekends, the midnight shift, and a double shift on the fourth of July earning the extra hourly rate for taking these less than desirable shifts.  I increased my earnings a lot and didn't have any time to spend any of it.  I would sometimes get up before it was light and work through the day and return in the dark just before the train stopped running.

Somewhere toward the end of July it was time for me to pay my bill.  I wasn't going to have enough.  I had been putting money toward the housing bill all summer and I took my paycheck following the fourth of July holiday.  I had even called the office and asked them to extend the deadline until payday, which they did.  But even with the extra paycheck I was going to be short.  When I got my paycheck, I was discouraged to find it was less than I had thought it should be.  I had not received the extra holiday pay for the fourth of July because it was on a Saturday and the hospital observed the holiday on Friday--a day I had not worked.  I was devastated.  I mean, I KNEW it was going to go this way, but I was still disappointed.  In total, I was nearly $500 short.

My planning and diligence had failed.

However, when I went to my PO Box to pick up the mail, I had a surprise waiting for me.  I had a letter from an attorney in my hometown.  He was the trustee of a scholarship I had received the year before.  He told me no one had applied for the scholarship that year.  The scholarship was supposed to be for first-year students, but he hated to think no one would use it.  He sent it to me.  The check was $500.

When I went to the housing office to pay my bill, I had enough to cover my bill with $9.27 left over.  With my school meal plan and my rent being paid, I didn't have much extra but, I had everything I needed.  This was the first time I began to separate my faith from my religion.  It was the first time I dared to believe

God had a plan, and it was a good one.

Going with the Flow

Rolling with the punches has never come easily for me.  I'm more naturally a planner.  An analyzer.  I like spreadsheets.  I like data.  I don't like to rely on feeling, and I don't like to change the plan.

I remember the first time I realized how lucky I am to have Kelly on my team.  We were just a family of three at that time.  We were flying somewhere and little E was very small.  One of our flights was cancelled by the time we go to our connecting airport and we were stuck.  We had a good plan.  We had chosen our flights around nap time and lunch time and all the other times that are of critical importance in the life of a toddler.  I was devastated to see my good plan swirling around the drain.

I told Kelly the news and I braced for her face to fall.  Except it didn't.  Her face lit up and she said, 

"Oh good!  Now we have time for frozen yogurt!"

There are so many things about life that look like unnecessary and inconvenient diversions to me at first glance.  This was perhaps the first time I realized planning was not the only thing that mattered.  I realized God was trying to teach me how to put my plan aside and go with the flow.  I began to see that in unexpected twists and turns you can find opportunities if you know where and how to look.  More and more, I find life is made of twists and turns and sometimes "diversions" are more necessary than they first appear.

This past summer, I found myself working at an office about 70 miles from my home.  With no interstates close by it took me about an hour and a half to wind along the hilly country road to work.  I made the trip twice a week most weeks, I did as much work from home as I could, and the rest of my week was occupied by work closer to home.

One afternoon I found my work delayed waiting on others to complete their portions before I could continue.  With a 90-minute drive ahead of me I didn't love the idea of sitting around for a few more hours with nothing to do before completing my work and driving home.  My colleagues and manager were very accommodating and I easily got permission to head home early and work remotely in the evening when the work was ready for me.  I headed home before 3 pm.

Part of the way home, I wondered if I had made a poor choice in leaving so early.  Was I being irresponsible?  I had made a habit of calling my grandmother on the ride home, but this was an unusual time for the trip and I didn't get her.  I filled the time praying about my day and whether I had fouled everything up.

Most of the way home, I came to the spot where I could see the beltway around the city up ahead, and I saw a fire engine crossing on the overpass above just as I approached the ramp.  Selfishly, I hoped the engine was not an indication of trouble on my route.  The fire truck came down the exit just as I slowed to the ramp and in the nick of time I turned up the ramp as it pulled up just behind me.  On the ramp I passed several motorcycles, one turned on its side, rider laying flat on the ground.  It appeared the bike had come off the beltway through a guardrail, passed through the grassy area, crossed the ramp and crashed.

It occurred to me that if I had come through only moments later I would be stuck in the traffic I could now see off to my left as I entered the beltway and continued home without delay.  I had one of those moments when it seems God downloads something to my understanding just as though he were sitting next to me.  I don't hear any voice or words or anything like that.  It's more of a gut feeling, but if I put words to the gut feeling, it would go something like this, "I'm coordinating things around you, not only for your safety, but also for your convenience."

In the months since that time I have changed jobs, we have been in the middle of a significant transition at church, and we have watched a virus envelope the earth.  In all of it, there have been so many experiences that baffle the mind with their synchrony.  I am convinced, more than ever, that God is always working to bring good from the chaos.  

Until next time . . .

The good Republican

Image courtesy of
champagnecountydemocrats.org

Image courtesy of en.wikipedia.com

                                                     

A long time ago, I read the Bible all the way through.  I was about 12 years old.  I wanted to know what it said.  I knew what other people told me it said.  I wanted to know for myself.  I still had questions.  That was the beginning of my journey.  A journey of faith.  Political things followed by necessity.

It was probably my second time through that I really started to change some of my political views--not all of them, but some.  I mean, I can't just agree with either party across the platform and I have some views that are out of line with both parties, altogether.  

The thing that got me is that the Republicans are always talking about money.  Their OWN money, and how no one has any right to take it and give it to poor people.

Wait.

Back up.

How does my family claim to love Jesus and hold these views?  We're so against taxes and government programs.  But this stuff doesn't exactly line up with what we say in church.  

In church, it's not OUR money.  It's a gift from God.  

In church, we're supposed to be the good Republican Samaritan.

In church, when we have two of something, we give one to someone else who doesn't.

In the ballot box. . . what happens?

In the ballot box, if you give a man a fish you feed him for a day, if you teach a man to fish you feed him for a lifetime.

In the ballot box, it's not the government's job.  The church should be taking care of that.

These are all sound philosophies.  

Trouble is, there are still poor people in church.  

Trouble is, Jesus didn't say, "Teach a man to fish."  

Jesus said, "Feed my sheep."

Jesus said that there are two kinds of people.  He called them sheep and goats.  The sheep are the good guys.  You know what makes you a sheep?

³⁵ For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. ³⁶ I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’  Matthew 25:35-36 NLT

On the GOP and Jesus

"I felt so far from my upbringing, from my narrow former self, the me who was taught the Republicans give a crap about the cause of Christ.  I felt a long way from the pre-me, the pawn-Christian who was a Republican because my family was Republican, not because I had prayed and asked God to enlighten me about issues concerning the entire world rather than just America."

From Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller

Sometimes, when reading Blue Like Jazz, I feel like I'm reading a biography of my own life.  I, too, grew up thinking that everyone who loved Jesus had to be a Republican.  I grew up thinking that Jesus hated government and taxes.  I grew up thinking what everyone around me was telling me to think.

One winter, I was spending a weekend with my grandfather in New Hampshire.  It was a nice break.  At that time, I was going to school at one of Boston's sixty-odd universities.  One of grandpa's friends came by and greeted me, "Why aren't you down in Massachusetts learning how to be a democrat?"

"You, shut up," Grandpa retorted.  "We're trying to keep him from that!"  That was a critical moment in my introspection.  I began asking myself what I really thought and valued. . . or, rather, if I thought and valued anything for myself.

Funny thing is, I considered myself a Republican all through my days in Boston.  I don't anymore.  I don't really consider myself a Democrat, either.  Maybe I am, and my history just won't let me admit it.

What changed?

Well, I read the Bible.

Blue Like Jazz

I saw a new movie recently: Blue Like Jazz.  It came from a book by the same title, written by Donald Miller.  Miller is a fantastic writer.  I hadn't read Blue Like Jazz when I saw the movie, but I've checked it out of the library and began reading it this morning.  I already love it!

"To me, God was more of an idea.  It was something like a slot machine, a set of spinning images that dolled out rewards based on behavior and, perhaps, chance."
-from chapter 1, Beginnings, Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller

I used to feel this way.  I grew up going to church and found a way to do the 'right' things and managed to look pretty good.  But it wasn't personal.  Then, my family fell apart.  My parents divorced and I became one of those people that no one ever talks about. . . to their face, at least.

I felt like God had let me down.  I went to college and put God on the shelf.  I didn't think I needed him.  That is, until I needed to pay for my schooling.

"Oh, God.  How am I going to do this?  I need you."

Then he came through for me.  I got a scholarship, for which I had not applied.  I had received the scholarship the year before.  No one had applied this particular year, so the attorney, trustee of the fund, sent the money to me.  He happened to send this money just at the same time that I was praying asking God for money.  I received the check two days later.

Then, I put him on the shelf again.

"Problem solved.  I don't need you anymore."

That is, until I needed a co-op job.

"Oh, God.  How am I going to do this?  I need you."

Then he came through for me. . . you see where this is going?  I wasn't getting the co-op job that I thought I wanted.  So, I prayed for a co-op job and told God that I was willing to take anything--even the job that he wanted me to take.  It was the best decision I've ever made.

After that, it became personal.  I started giving up more easily.  Not giving up like laying in bed and not getting dressed all day, but giving up like saying, "Ok, God.  If you have a plan, I know it's going to be better than any plan of mine.  I'll explore all my options, you open the doors, I'll go through them."

This strategy led me to graduate school.

This strategy found me the best wife in the entire world.

This strategy found me a fantastic career.

This strategy brought us to our current hometown.

It has been a wild ride, but I wouldn't trade it, and I'm not going to change my strategy!  I've taken God off the shelf for the last time.

Bad Things. . . Good People

Why do bad things happen to good people?  How could a loving God allow bad things to happen?

Growing up, I had this picture of God sitting on a throne making judgments about individual scenarios allowing or disallowing each one.  In other words, I imagined that God was dictating both good things and bad things, when and to whom they would happen.

What if it's not like that?


A few years ago, I was struggling with the idea of my own failings.  I was praying a lot asking God why he made me with all of the brokenness and weaknesses that I saw in myself.  Then I had a dream that changed my whole paradigm.

In my dream, I was decorating a Christmas tree.  I would examine each ornament and enjoy the work that had gone into creating each one.  One of my favorites is a very detailed, egg-shaped, ceramic ornament that my in-laws got on an Alaskan cruise.  It's beautiful!  In the dream, I held that ornament up and said, "I'll put this one right here."  Then, my perspective changed.  My focus zoomed in on the ornament, and it was different--it was me.  Someone was holding me and saying, "I'll put this one right here."

Then it hit me.  I was like one of those ornaments--unique and beautiful apart from my surroundings and situation.  What if those things that I hate in myself are not weakness and brokenness at all?  What if those things are gifts?  What if I'm looking at them from the wrong perspective?  What if I am a work of art apart from my situation--I am not defined by my situation.

The new paradigm: each one of us is a unique and perfectly crafted individual created on purpose for purpose.  The weakness and brokenness come from somewhere else--from the way I choose to react to my surroundings and situation.  Every weakness represents a poor choice I made in response to my situation.  I could have made a better choice and avoided the baggage and brokenness.  The good choices are not always as easy as the bad ones.  Sometimes, my situation does not depend on me alone and other people's choices can make my choices difficult.  However, my choices determine my baggage.

What if God is sitting up there saying, "You're not broken.  I made you that way on purpose.  Instead of hating those things about yourself, start by asking me why I gave you those gifts."

What if God isn't dictating the bad things?  What if God simply chose to give us the freedom to fail?  What if those failures are the cause of all of the brokenness?  What if God is giving us only the good and allowing us to choose what to do with it; not dictating evil, but rather allowing us to do some of the dictating?

The 'S' word: submit

Does that word give you hives?


We don't really like to talk about submission very much.  Recently, I heard a co-worker talk about how much she HATES to hear sermons on marriage because she can't stand the subject of wives being 'submissive' to their husbands.  I think this comes from a misunderstanding or rather misrepresentation of what the Bible says about wives and husbands.  The thing that is so despicable is not the way a wife would be submissive, but the way of a husband--am I right?  No wife wants to feel like she's under the thumb of her husband.

She doesn't need to be.  I don't believe the Bible is asking for that at all.  Let's start with what the Bible does say:

Ephesians 5:21-26


^"21 Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.
"²² Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. ²³ For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. ²⁴ Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.
 "²⁵ Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her . . . "


Ok, so we see the word submit in there, right?  'Submit to one another. . . ' that doesn't sound so bad.  But, when we get to the part about the husband being the head of the wife, we all get a little tense, don't we?

I do.

There's something about my understanding of that verse that has just never really settled in my mind.

The issue comes up when we have a disagreement, right?  When we both disagree and our desires are mutually exclusive, who wins?  Who gets to break the tie?  I've heard one philosophy: the man has 51% of the vote.  I've seen that kind of philosophy carried out even more often than I've heard it or others like it.  That, I think, sums up the traditional conservative, evangelical view of a husbands headship--even from some of my more liberal peers.  When we disagree, the husband gets what he wants.

So, my question is: can we back that up with an example of Christ and the church?

Just this evening, I'm thinking about all of this and something occurred to me: maybe I should look at what the Bible DOESN'T say:

It doesn't say that the husband is the one to enforce the submission.

It says that the husband is to love his wife as Christ loves the church.

I can't find any example of Christ enforcing his way on the church.

In the example of Christ, I see a servant.  A protector.  A kind-hearted friend, always choosing to do the right thing, giving everything up for his willing followers.  He never forces his way on anyone, he simply asks and lets each individual make his or her own decision, e.g. the rich young man(Matt 19:16-29; Mark 10:17-30; Luke 18:18-30) or the woman at the well(John 4:1-26.)

My conclusion: husbandly leadership is leading two people to a consensus rather than pushing one viewpoint aside when the two have not yet reached a consensus.

See also: leadership.

Being The Church

Just one week after severe weather ripped Marysville, Indiana apart, 13 people from the Highland Vineyard Church in Louisville, Kentucky went to see if we could help.  We even got on TV as you can see.  The best part, though, is that I got to do all of this alongside a cute girl in a pink 'Purdue' sweatshirt!  This is my perspective on that day.

Signed up, briefed on safety, equipped with gloves and sturdy shoes, we are ready to go.  Pulling up by the post office in Marysville, there is no doubt we are in the right place.  Several trees are missing their tops, telephone poles still sporting their wires are scattered in the fields.  Volunteers have lined the streets with cars and trucks.  The somewhat informal leaders find us a place to work.  "You see that house over there with the diamond window?" they ask.

We head off toward the farmhouse.  The diamond window as our beacon.  Things are looking worse all of a sudden.  The Community Center roof is completely collapsed.  The church has had its siding peeled off and is boarded over.  There is one house halfway to our destination that has no top whatsoever.  You can stand outside, look through the windows and see the cloudless blue sky.  In the yard, between the tree limbs and the debris, the crocuses and the daffodils are blooming as though unaware of the catastrophe surrounding them.  Perhaps, they arrived just late enough to have missed the whole thing.

The scenery is starting to sink in.  I stare around me and each moment I become aware of new things--new levels of destruction--that have been right before my eyes the whole time.  At first, I am unaware of the comprehensive nature of the damage.  I begin to realize that these houses that appear to be standing unscathed are not actually sitting on their foundations.  The church that is missing siding is also displaced three feet from its original location.  Then I notice some concrete slabs--former dwellings--now barely symbols of the structures they formerly supported.

I hadn't even noticed all of that, at first.

As we arrive in the field near the farmhouse there are mounds of rubble.  Mounds.  Not only are there mounds, but in the field toward the horizon there are bits of every kind of human possession strewn in a thin layer for as far as the eye can see.

As far as the eye can see.

A pizza cutter, a broken Barbie doll, bits of insulation, several chapters of Harry Potter, asphalt shingles, a Twilight DVD, and the list goes on.

Someone (or many someones) have begun consolidating this thin layer of debris into little piles.  About 100 feet in any direction and there is a pile, and another, and another, and another.  We step gingerly over the mud and around the piles to make our way to one of the tractors with trailers and we join a group in the loading of the debris.  It is loaded onto the trailer and moved to a large pile in the middle of the field, separated into metal and wood, and left for the next round of cleanup--a bonfire.  Actually, conflagration is probably more appropriate.

Before long, we're shedding our sweatshirts.  The sun is warm.  I can smell the onion sprouts as we trample them underfoot.  We get several piles picked up and loaded and then the tractor heads for the pile.  How good it looks with those piles gone.  Yet, how many more hundreds of piles are left?  More volunteers keep coming in droves and the tractors get kind of crowded.  With my level of coordination, I'm sure that I'm going to poke someone with a splintered piece of hardwood flooring.  I'm getting hungry, anyway.  Time for lunch.

The afternoon is much like the morning, working on the rubble from several houses that used to line this little country street.  Where to start?  We begin by filling 5 gallon pails from what looks like bare ground.  It is actually chunks of wall board, broken glass, silverware, National Geographic magazines--some dating back nearly 70 years, and a few pieces of jewelry that we recovered for a former resident.  You can fill a pail several times over without even moving from one spot.  Without even saying a word, we begin to form a method with these strangers working alongside us: emptying pails into wheelbarrows; rakes and shovels working synchronously to pile and scoop.

At the end of the day, I'm weary.  I survey the afternoon's results: It looks good.  Well . . . it looks better!  We head back to the car, no longer stepping gingerly, and I can't believe how far we've come in only one day!  There is bare ground along the street next to the farmhouse.  The piles out in the field are gone!  GONE!  No more piles.  As far as the eye can see!  But, as far as we've come, I can't believe how much more there is to do.  I can't wait to come back.  I have to come back.  Our work here is not finished.

Who Knows?

"After two marriages that ended in divorce (Tommy Lee and Richie Sambora), I'm sure Heather knows what it takes to make a relationship work."

Quoted from thestir 

Ummm. . . anybody finding something wrong with that logic?  I'm sure Heather knows a few things that can make a marriage fail, but what evidence do we have that she knows what would make it work?  The logic that says that failure teaches you how to succeed is broken logic.  It simply teaches you how to fail.  Wisdom would tell you how to avoid the same failure again, but can failure alone be guaranteed to bring you to success?  I'm going to go with. . . NO!

So, where does this wisdom for success come from?  If you want to know how to do something right, then ask someone who's doing it right!  Who are you listening to?  Cultural generalization? 

Particularly in the areas of finances and marriage, I see people with similar problems talking to each other and giving advice to each other.  Is this really the best idea?  Why do we think that someone with similar problems will help solve our own?  Perhaps it just makes us feel better about the fact that we have problems.  I would assert that we should be cautious about the people we use for advice and the assumptions we make about what they know.  

You know what 'they' say.  

Do you know who 'they' are?

Well, if you know me, then you know that I'm going to take my advice from the Bible.  It's not always the easiest to apply to everyday life, but that's where the other people come in.  People with life experience that I want to duplicate.  I don't believe we are meant to live our lives alone.  I do, however, believe that we should be selective in choosing whom to emulate.  

Love Wins . . . in review

I have a theory: if I get to the place where I am unable to read, listen to, or associate with things or persons that challenge my belief system, then I am in a dangerous place.

Strange place to start a post about a book review, you might think.  That is, unless you've heard about Love Wins already.  When I told some that I was reading this book I got responses like, "you're READING it?" or "Oh, I've heard about that one."  I had heard of Love Wins before I read it.  I first heard about it in a review that made it sound like the biggest piece of heresy in several millennia--which is of course, why I had to read it.  Not because I'm looking for heretical writings, but because I have to see for myself.

So, I set to reading it.  I actually got it as a gift from Nina--my mother-in-law.  Thank you, Nina.  I finished most of it on a plane ride, and the rest of it shortly thereafter.  I LOVED it.  I STILL love it.  The thing I love the most is that Rob Bell is encouraging "open, honest inquiry into the things that matter most."  This unapologetic, question-everything philosophy is present throughout this book.  This is less a book that tells you what to think, and more a book that longs for everyone to think. . . something, and to think it on their own.  I love books like that.

Bell has some interesting perspectives, and as far as I can tell, they are all based on biblical principles.  He simply isn't afraid to ask the tough questions.  He tests his faith and his tradition against what the Bible actually says, and he refuses to use tradition as an explanation of his faith.  This book is somewhat of a description of the fundamentals of christianity through the eyes of Rob Bell.  His perspectives are not as outrageous as I expected based on what I had heard and seen. . . I'm beginning to wonder how many people have formed opinions without having read the book themselves.

In his chapter, Here Is The New There, he talks about the concept of heaven on earth.  He suggests that this heaven, this healing, this new life that Jesus promises can start now.  In his chapter called Hell, he talks about hell on earth and addresses the concept of free will.  He says, "it is vital that we acknowledge that love, grace, and humanity can be rejected.  From the most subtle rolling of the eyes to the most violent degradation of another human, we are terrifyingly free to do as we please."

He also talks about the fact that some people just don't like the words sin and hell, but that there are very real physical situations happening in our world right now that require "words to be that intense, loaded, complex, and offensive, because they need to reflect the realities they describe."  In essence, he doesn't write off the person who doesn't like the stuff they've heard.  He doesn't pretend that the uncomfortable stuff doesn't exist.  He offers a perspective that allows us to admit that there are tough issues and uncomfortable questions, and invites us to discover "the good news" by embracing and engaging.  He invites us to believe in God rather than religious tradition.

This leads me to my second theory: I don't have to believe everything I hear or read.  That's why I feel so free to read this book.  Instead of being afraid of a book that may challenge my belief system, I will instead accept the challenges and set out to clarify for myself whether, in fact, my current system of beliefs needs an amendment.

So, do I agree with Rob Bell?

It doesn't matter.  This book has given me new excitement about discovering my faith, challenging the traditions, and getting into the Bible.

That matters.

Other books I recommend:

Sex God by Rob Bell
Soul Cravings by Erwin McManus

What's in a man?

I had a moment of revelation the other day.  Have you ever had one of those?  One moment I'm pondering this question and the next moment I know the answer--at least, I think I do.  Let's start with the question. 

What makes a man? 

I used to be really worried about this kind of question.  I didn't feel like I fit the mold.  I've never been much of a sports fan.  When I first heard of March Madness, I was in college and I thought it had something to do with Seasonal Affective Disorder!  I know more about cooking crepes and growing roses than I do about cars, basketball, or carpentry and I'm built like a broomstick.  Nonetheless, I eventually became comfortable in my own skin, but then I still wondered: what makes a man?  What is a manly man, anyway?

My moment of revelation came when I started to approach this question like I approach most others.  I started thinking in terms of my faith.  What does the Bible say about men.  What do I think God purposed in me, as a man?  I can't really find many--or any--verses that describe just what a man should be.  The one that comes closest is the one in Ephesians that talks about a husband: Husbands, love your wives as Christ loves the church.  Perplexing.  Profound.  Pointed.

So, what do I think the answer is?  I think I've had it backwards all along--and I'm not talking about March Madness.  I was aiming to become like a man when in reality, I already was a man.  How silly is that?  I should not be aiming to become like other men, but rather aim to be more like Christ in character.  God didn't create me to be a manly man.  He created me to be a godly man.