How To Recognize a Man
by Laurence Windham

You see it everywhere. From the rhetoric of the movie Fight Club to the latest best seller, Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man, to the apathy in the pew, there is a loss of manliness in our society. The cultural analysts have some

good points on how this has happened. The loss of job security, the absence of a great cause, and no longer being the sole provider in the family are a few of the societal changes that have brought about the evolution of a nation of sissies and victims. Add to that the celluloid version of what a true man is, a pumped up-take no prisoners-fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of guy that is still sensitive and witty, and you have a standard by which every male is judged only to fall short. I can see this as a natural dilemma for fallen man. What bothers me is that I see it in the church. Even though we are in the world, there are many things that should remain of the world and not be representative of us. When Stonewall Jackson made the statement that his theology taught him that he was as safe on the battlefield as in his bed, he had come to realize the truth that what we believe should transcend the influence of our environment. If this is not so, how could we possibly become a city set on a hill whose light shines before the world?

The problem for the Christian male is that he is too caught up in the accepted image of maleness presented by the world. As he views the latest fashions for men or watches the portrayal of pseudo masculinity on a TV sitcom he is programming himself to reflect the images he finds there. In the book of James we are told that what we look into we begin to reflect. Not a casual glancing but a continual, deliberate gaze that after some time, defines the viewer. When I was a kid, I remember my mom took us to Sea World. The dominant event that stands out in my mind is a vending machine in the lobby. This was like no machine I have ever seen before or since. After depositing a quarter, a ball of plastic rolled out of a compartment only to be met by the two sides of a mold. You could choose a seal, a whale or a dolphin. I picked the seal. After a couple of minutes, I was holding in my hands what started as a ball of plastic, a warm, freshly molded seal. The world we live in acts the same way when we are passive. It never stops trying to conform us. The devil and his minions are trying to capture the same ideas, emotions and assumptions that we are called to take captive. By our nature we will emulate something. By our priorities we decide what that image will be.

Allow me the privilege of declaring the attributes of the godly man as a response to the critics, a guide to the wandering and wondering, and a call for renewal.

I am a warrior. My battle is in the spiritual realm. I am dug in and on the front line. And I am here by choice.

I can detect an errant world-view a mile away, whether it is in a movie script, a novel, a song or a conversation.

I am bound by Scripture and by conscience to live life deliberately, making the most of my time investing in the most important areas of life.

I am not perfect. But I'm not stupid either. I learn from my mistakes.

I read Credenda/Agenda on the potty.

I am the last to bed but the first to rise to investigate the unfamiliar or to care for a sick child.

I know that a full-house beats a flush.

I don't have any idea what ABC, CBS, NBC or any of the other networks have planned for their fall line-up.

I enjoy the company of real men and women.

I relish the clash of ideology among fellow sword bearers, iron sharpening iron, brothers in arms, testing their mettle, then sharing the same cup.

I lead. My wife follows. My children obey.

My friends are honest with me. Painfully honest.

I know the Bible. The truth inspires me to live fully and passionately.

I look people in the eye.

I shake hands firmly.

I choose my words carefully.

I would die for my friends.

I tell the truth whatever the cost.

My hands are callused from honest work,

My heart is tender from experience and reciprocation.

My mind is sharp from use.

My laughter is genuine.

My shoulders are sore from bearing others' burdens.

My ears are yours if you need someone to listen.

My heart is confident in the will of God.

I smell of sweat and blood and tobacco and gun powder and good wine and the earth.

Sometimes all at once.

I fear no man. I fear God.

You can find me, though I am rare, working in a ware- house, hunting game, building a deck, managing a business, hoeing a garden, developing software, treating patients, working on a degree, etc.

You will not find me on the sidelines. I am not a spectator.

Love me, hate me, revile me, fear me, persecute me, join me, laugh at me and call me names. But I am and I remain in the truest definition of the term: a man.