I missed my father by a long whisker – by the time I was old enough to understand anything, he was long dead. Much of what I know about the African prima male, I’ve learned from watching and listening to other people, learning from some of them, and reading, of course. That manhood is about going out to kill lions for fun, beating your opponents to a pulp and plundering them and theirs. That being a man is about never displaying need for anything, or anyone. That manhood is about being rough, never smiling, a permanent ‘no emotions allowed’ zone.
The other day I saw a former MP scream on national television that the way to recognize a ‘mature’ man and leader is by the number of wives he has. Therefore, he said, since he’s about to marry my glaringly controversial cousin as his third wife, he should be elected to parliament without any problems. Ah, the African man is king over his household, and runs roughshod over his women.
And yet it occurs to me that somewhere, there is a better definition of the man. A place where men are sold-out servants who will gladly fight thousands of Philistines to get drinking water for their thirsty king. A place where men have their heads on right, and can always be trusted to make the right decisions for everyone’s good.
I’m thinking about the place where men and women complement each other at every level of life, as God meant it. Where men are not afraid to take the lead, and do so with the skillfulness of their hands and the uprightness of their hearts. Where chivalry is a way of life, because the protected is safe in the protector’s confident arms. Where men love their one woman with all their heart, and would do anything to protect her and their love.
I wonder, sometimes, if we’re a generation that has lost its place because we no longer remember what being a man is all about.
But of all the distorted images of man there are, the biggest lie is the one about weakness. That a man must never admit he’s weak, must never admit error, and must never take responsibility. Oh, I miss those days I didn’t know - the days before blame was invented, before the great cover-up. Those few days when man was just an open book, never thinking that it is ‘cool’ to wear a façade.
One of the reasons I love going to church is that there’s always something new to learn. My pastor recently pointed out a thought I’d never paid much attention to – that great first cover-up, when Adam quickly shifted blame to his wife. Can you picture Adam going to find the fig leaves to cover their nakedness, then figure a way to make sure he was safe from blame? And so it has been ever since. He said, my pastor, that the greatest weakness of all is the great fear of appearing weak.
I identify. Yet I quickly see the lesson, and that is what this is all about: a dear friend of mine found himself in the clutches of sin. A leader, admission was certainly the hard way to go – not only would it cause a ‘fall from grace’ so to speak, but it would scar his relationships and the process of restoration would be a tough one. It would have been easy to let it slide, and continue to be a man in the eyes of the world, look like he has it all together, while slowly dying in darkness. Yet he didn’t. He owned up, repented, sought restoration, and submitted himself to the process that would see him strengthened.
And in the process, he added gems to all the lessons he’s taught me so far about being a man – you take responsibility and face the consequences, no matter what they are; you value your relationship with God above every glory; you live your life in the light always, and realize when you are weak and need help; and you never think you’re too man to ask for help. Never.
Be the man.
