Fears of Men

A while ago – far too long to justify the lapse in posting – I wrote about fear, and challenging it.   

(Aside: somewhat ironically, the day after I posted about being afraid of heights I got sent up into a belfry to help fix a ladder.  God has a sense of humor.) 

Anyway, since then I’ve been thinking about fear, and especially about fears that seem to afflict men in particular.  There are several of these, and since I’m prone to most of them, it’s a matter of some personal interest.  Of course, it is possible that these are my own faults, and I’m just seeking psychological comfort in projecting my personal character-flaws on others; but I’m reasonably sure there are at least a few others who may have the same failings, from time to time.   

Anyway, I intend to write a series of posts on fears I’ve observed in myself and other men, and – hopefully – get a little insight into the sources of these fears, and the proper (manly) response to them. 

Here goes.  

* * * 

Recently a man under the moniker “djs” has been posting some rather hard-hitting comments beneath posts on this blog.  This has led to several reactions, all of them interesting, but he made what I thought was a useful point on this post: 

I understand this blog, based on Jonathan’s initial post, to be an exploration into what it means to be a man, generally, and a Christian man, particularly. Moreover, I understand this blog to be dialectic, for there to be give and take, argument and counter-argument (”as iron sharpens iron . . .”). Thus I have commented vigorously in the past, not to argue for the sake of argument, but to elaborate real criticisms in the hope of participating in a process that will bring the writers, the commentators, and the readers of this blog closer to a true understanding of the nature of manliness. My understanding, however, appears to be exceptional; most commentators on this blog either enthusiastically endorse the posts or meekly ask questions about them. Thus I fear that I am perceived as strident when that is not my intention. 

Of course, there is nothing wrong, per se, with agreeing with a post, any more than there is with disagreeing with it.  And I am, personally, a big fan of questions.  But there is nothing inherently wrong with vigorous criticism, either. 

Still, that this note was necessary (and I think it was) should tell us something.  “djs” has in this passage captured the spirit of the project quite well.  Why does he need the clarification? 

Part of the problem is rooted in an endemic spirit of “niceness” which I have already maligned (without defending the action) in my original introductory post.  I’m not going to defend my maligning habits here either, nor even explain at any length what I mean; only to suggest a connection with the fundamental fear that I believe is at work: 

Fear of confrontation. 

As an RA for two years, on several occasions I had to challenge people for breaking rules.  I must admit (mea culpa) I absolutely hated doing this, and would have much preferred to let them get away with it rather than confront them.  On one or two occasions I probably did.  (The technical term for a person who acts like this is “mealy-hearted wimp” – but there it is.)  I didn’t mind too much if I knew the person would respect my authority; but I really disliked challenging anyone who I thought would react negatively in any way. 

On other occasions, I had to challenge friends to overcome spiritual faults in their lives.  I honestly believe that in some cases the words may have been more difficult for me to say than for them to hear.  I spoke because I had to, because I loved these people; but I would have much rather not. 

I was afraid of confrontation.  And I know why, too – I wanted people to like me.  In the first case I was afraid of making enemies, of people despising or rejecting me.  In the second case I was afraid of damaging friendships I valued highly. 

In Christianese we call this “fear of man,” and we are warned against it – or rather, we are commanded to live on a level at which it does not apply.  Slaves in the ancient world were surely more justified than most of us in being cautious how they acted, or at least in disobeying secretly rather than openly where they might be severely punished.  But for Christian slaves their actions were removed from this sphere entirely.   

Slaves, obey your earthly masters with fear and trembling, with a sincere heart, as you would Christ, not by the way of eye-service, as people-pleasers, but as servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart. (Ephesians 6:5-6) 

“Fear and trembling” – but not because of what their masters might do, because it isn’t ultimately about pleasing their masters at all.  

When I let fear of another person’s opinion get in the way of saying or doing what I know is right, I am practicing a kind of idolatry.  I am letting a human being matter to me more than God.  The fact that it is fear, rather than love, that I feel toward this person only underlines its similarity to other pagan idolatries.  Who can love Moloch?  But you had better fear him, and please him, or face the consequences. 

My point is not to compare your friends (or enemies) to Moloch.  My point is that men must not be afraid of confrontation.  This doesn’t mean that those of you who don’t disagree with us are somehow less manly.  It doesn’t mean that we are necessarily less manly because we will probably communicate most disagreements between ourselves personally rather than publicly on this forum (although sooner or later I expect to see a follow-up post saying “nonsense!”).  It does mean that you should be able and willing to express your disagreement, when appropriate.  (Yes, this applies to ladies as well, but so far y’all seem quite capable of taking us to task when you think we need it.) 

Note that there are several kinds of confrontation, and a man may be very bad at some while managing others quite easily.  Here is a handy list, probably incomplete, which I would like your comments on: 

1) Physical confrontation.  (Beating someone up, or being beaten up, as the case may be – okay, yes, that’s the more extreme end of the range.) 

2) Relational/emotional confrontation. 

3) Purely intellectual confrontation.  

4) Confrontation of authority. (For many of us it is difficult to publicly disagree with the priest or professor, on anything other than purely intellectual matters.  The president is easier because you don’t know him; if you’re an ordinary person, he will probably never hear what you think anyway.) 

5) Confrontation from authority.  (Those of us in some position of leadership often dislike challenging the people under us, as I related above.) 

6) Spiritual confrontation.  (I’m not sure what exactly this entails, although it may include such things as St. Anthony battling evil spirits in the wilderness, or Jesus with the Gerasene demoniac, but it need not necessarily involve demons directly.) 

* * * 

So, men.  What kinds of confrontation are you afraid of, and why? 

When will righteous fear of God overcome your cowering fear of man? 

Interlude

Recently one of the blogs I read went for a long while without any posts.  Don’t you hate it when that happens?

More posts are coming.  Honest.

Dying to self

http://www.boundless.org/features/a0001027.html

A definite characteristic of manhood that we see in the Bible is self-sacrifice. Ben’s last post linked to an excellent article by Tony Esolen on the subject. Now here’s an article from Boundless that talks about cultivating selflessness in everyday life – like when your wife wants to go shopping.

Have you read it? Some discussion questions:

1. How does this apply to us single men?
2. How is this consistent with the idea of male headship? (It is, I’m just looking for comments on exactly how.)
3. Jonathan and Ben, feel free to press edit and add more questions…

I am dispensable.

Tony Esolen: Over Our Dead Bodies

A first-rate article, which I think I am perfectly justified in jealously wishing myself capable of writing, and which is positively chock-full of such lovely phrases as “wise policemen have looked the other way,” “perduring affection,” “pinchedness of individualists,” “a stick of dynamite is worth _____,” “skittish electrochemical blinks,” and “the humility of risk.”

Go read it.  Because it’s long.

Conversation starters

Shout out to C.J. Mahaney, whose excellent post on Together for the Gospel I am now shamelessly plagiarizing (sort of). If you’re married, go read that post instead. If you’re not married, read it anyway. But also read this one.

Also read my previous post before you read this one or it won’t make sense.

**********

So how do you start seeking your dad’s counsel and wisdom if you haven’t been doing it for a while? Let me tell you; it’s difficult at first. You’re putting yourself in a vulnerable place. It’ll benefit you, but it’s like surgery. Doesn’t feel very good.

Just do it. I dare you.

Sometimes when you’re talking to your dad it’s helpful to have a purposeful conversation starter. So take him out to [your local independent coffee shop] and ask him some questions. Here are some good ones:

• What is a consistent pattern of sin you see in my life?
• In what way can I honor you and Mom more?
• or, What is one way you have noticed that I am not honoring you or Mom?
• Do you have anything you’ve wanted to tell me but you didn’t think I would recieve it?

Don’t be afraid to have these questions answered honestly! Then apologize where appropriate, repent, rely on the Holy Spirit to change, and ask for continued accountability.

I double-dog-dare you.

Real Men Honor Their Parents

Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. “Honor your father and mother” (this is the first commandment with a promise), “that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.” Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. (Ephesians 6.1-4 ESV; see also Exodus 20.12, Deuteronomy 5.16, and Colossians 3.20-21 which are nearly identical in content.)

The idea of honoring parents has never been in vogue. Sinful humanity has always rebelled against God-given authority. Men have always cursed their leaders, children have always cursed their parents. Perhaps these days it is worse than at other times in history. As the institution of the family is being attacked, parents are being perceived and portrayed in our culture as incidental, bumbling, and bigoted; often well-meaning, but usually misled.

The Bible is wildly countercultural, and always has been. Its commands go against all our natural tendencies. A sword, it slices through our carefully constructed lies to reveal our true motives.

As Christians, our first impulse when dealing with a Scripture passage like this is often to try and make it reasonable and defensible in the world’s eyes. We could interpret it like this: ‘Parents deserve respect because of the great sacrifices they make in raising their children. They ought to be obeyed by their children because of their extensive life experiences; and because they know their children and what is best for them personally.’ This kind of statement is of course unarguably true. Reason and experience agree that in nearly every case, parents are better equipped to care for and lead their children than anyone else, including the so-called “experts.”

But if we stop with this kind of an appeal to human reason, we will miss what the Bible has to teach us. We don’t need Scripture to tell us that parents know best. Plato and Aristotle probably told us that. It is – or really ought to be – common sense.

For one thing, this “exposition” fails to exegete the Scripture. There are many aspects of the verse that are left out in this kind of “family values” justification. God wants to confront and indwell our hearts, not just change our external behavior.

Sometimes those of us who have parents wish they wouldn’t get in our way so often. We want to follow our own counsel and make our own plans. As we grow older and assume more responsibilities, we are called upon to make more of our own decisions. But often we use this fact to justify the arrogant pursuit of autonomy. We have an inflated view of our own wisdom. Thinking we are wise enough to guide our own lives, we desire independence.

I contend that this view is sinful and unrealistic. Simply by virtue of being older than us, our parents have more practical experience than us. In fact, most older adults do. Our parents also have an added advantage in that we grew up with them, and they have the ability to guide us more wisely because they know our personal temperaments and tendencies, often better than we know ourselves.

In the vast majority of cases, these reasons are sound. But let’s suppose that your parents are not Christians, that they routinely make demonstrably foolish choices in their own lives, and that they have been functionally absent in their parenting. Perhaps you can still honor them. But . . . obey them? Value their counsel? This could be a tough sell.

It is worth noting that Moses did not write conditional phrases into Deuteronomy. He didn’t write, “Honor your father and mother, insofar as they are worthy of respect.” There is no “because” in this mandate, besides the implied ‘because God will bless you if you do.’ God seems to be making an absolute command: ‘Honor your parents.’

Paul didn’t write, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, so long as they have been good parents.” In Ephesians, an even stronger injunction to ‘obey your parents’ is coupled with a command for good parenting. However, neither command is conditional upon the other. Even when children are disobedient, parents must still show God’s love to them; and even when parents are not loving, children must still obey them.

Aside from the fine practical incentives for honoring parents, in doing so we are honoring and trusting God’s will for us. Honoring parents is “right” because it affirms God’s sovereignty and accepts His divine wisdom in placing us in the families we’re in. Simply put, we honor our parents primarily because they are our parents, and in doing so, we honor God. In addition, when we honor our parents we participate sacramentally in Christ’s relationship to his Father. Thus, by obeying our parents, we are truly “in the Lord.” Viewed sacramentally, honoring our parents becomes a direct means of God’s grace. It will truly “go well with you.”

Here is one recent example of how I try to honor my parents. My home is only an hour and a half drive from my college. This summer I thought it would be a good idea to host an end-of-summer family party for students and families in the area. I had all sorts of good reasons why this would be a great idea. I was eagerly making plans and thinking of people to invite. (Actually, my mom suggested the party – I probably wouldn’t have thought of it myself.) But when I told my dad about it, he was less than enthusiastic, and said it wasn’t a good idea. This was a disappointment to me, but I submitted my will to his and agreed not to do it, instead of arguing or attempting to convince him. I still don’t fully understand why he didn’t like the idea, but I chose to honor my dad and I’m glad I did.

Honoring and obeying our parents helps us, as young men, to overcome our most characteristic sin – pride. Submitting to our parents’ counsel and wisdom will prepare us to submit to other authorities later in life and to exercise humble leadership in our future families. Face it guys: We are proud. We need to do this.

Finally, young men, intentionally pursue your father’s wisdom. He has been especially equipped by God and entrusted with the responsibility of discipling you. Of course, for many fathers this is difficult for at least two reasons. First, they may not have had a father who gave them a pattern for discipleship. They might not know where to start. Second, they may be hesitant to disciple their sons because they don’t believe their sons will be receptive to their efforts. Perhaps they have good reason . . . ! In a case like this, you need to take the initiative and let your dad know that you really value his wisdom and counsel and are open to receiving from him. Then start bringing specific issues, whether it’s about making decisions, or confronting your sin, or just asking his opinion about something. Initiate! Your dad will become a better, more God-glorifying father, and you will be glad of it.

To Leap or to Fall

Almost two years ago, a family of my acquaintance invited a group of young men, self included, to come join them for games and barbeque. The festivities commenced on a lovely piece of property they had recently acquired and were planning to build a house on. The foundation was begun, but the only thing actually built was the tree-fort, in a large tree overhanging a truly poem-worthy stream.

I climbed up through the trap-door in the floor. Who can resist a tree-fort? Then I went one further and went up over the railing onto an outstretched branch.

I had begun working out regularly not too long before, so I might have been feeling more confident than usual in my upper-body strength. For whatever reason, I decided to grab one of the side-rails and swing down to the ground.

Now, many foolish errors I may have made, but I don’t generally do stupid physical things. I’ve never been recognized chiefly for my incredibly muscular physique, and I know my limitations. This was something I was absolutely capable of doing with perfect safety.

The problem was introduced when the rail came loose from the side of the tree.

My two-by-four hit the ground.

I missed the ground and fell further, maybe ten feet in all, to land—on my head and shoulders—in the stream, where three or four inches of burbling water was less than sufficient to cushion the stones beneath.

Ouch.

My upper back was the recipient of the rough equivalent of a rug-burn. I bit my tongue, hard, as I fell, and could taste a quantity of blood in my mouth. I was only wet above the waist; my legs were stretched up along the bank toward the tree. But the rest of me got wet as I tried to get up, and two or three of my friends (noticing from the corners of their eyes the flash as my body suddenly relocated itself from the branch to the stream-bed) came and helped me back up the side.

Then there was the continuing twinge in my back whenever I sat down too quickly. The chiropractor made a lot of money on that one. Later on, when the headaches started happening, so did the D.O. (bone/skeleton doctor). Although I’m relatively re-assembled, the effects of the fall have never been quite fully eradicated.

So I’m a little nervous when I find myself in some insecure high place. I made myself go down a zipline last May, partly because I knew it would be fun once I actually got started, partly because I didn’t want to give in to fear. (Yes, it was fun.)

And a few days ago I was ambling along beside the same stream. (I actually live now in an apartment built on part of that foundation I mentioned.) Climbing up into the tree-fort, I went out on the branch—admittedly, more cautiously than last time. It was my second visit to that tree-fort, and my second time on that branch.

So I jumped.

It’s not that far down, if you don’t fall in the stream. Not an amazing leap. A little rough on the ankles, but no big deal. But it was something I thought I should do.

* * * * *

There are times when rock climbers find themselves halfway up a cliff face, clinging to cracks invisible from the ground—and unable to reach the next handhold.

They could try to climb down; but that’s not nearly as easy as it might sound. If they hang there indefinitely, they must (sooner or later) fall. Since my readers are people of intelligence and taste, you have probably realized the only other option:

They jump.

Believe it or not, there is a name for this; it is called a “dyno.” The intrepid (if slightly insane) climber shoves off with his legs; he prevents falling to his death by means of his outstretched arms. He must keep his eyes fixed carefully on his goal, the handhold that will enable him to continue toward the top.

It’s a great move, really, except for the possibility that the climber might miss.

* * * * *

The other night, a friend of mine said she believes many mature, Godly men are afraid of investing themselves in younger men. They find it easier to criticize than to build a relationship, to take a risk.

Many young men (and older men who remember being young) will recognize the fear of initiating a relationship with a young woman. “I could be rejected!” “I could get hurt!” In more selfless moments, real or feigned, “I might hurt her!” It can be frightening to take such a risk.

And what about being vulnerable, honestly telling an accountability partner (another man) about your sins and struggles? What about openly discussing these things in order to encourage or counsel? It’s a risk.

But I believe God calls us to be risk-takers. As men, specifically (and we will explore this further in later posts), God calls us to courage.

I wonder. What are we as men afraid of? What is the branch we crouch on, the fissure we cling to, afraid of landing head-first on rocks and never recovering?

What if we must leap or fall?