The Nobility of Being a Man

In 1990, Robert Bly fueled the fledgling Mythopoetic Men's Movement with the release of his groundbreaking and controversial book, Iron John: A Book About Men. The movement, also known as the "Iron John" movement, is a response to the perceived feminization of Western culture, wherein masculine traits have come to be regarded as negative and destructive, and males (both boys and men) are encouraged instead to embrace and express their more sensitive, less aggressive "feminine side." Many contend that this has created a disaffection among males because they lack a sense of purpose in the world and are unable to relate as they are being told. The solution to this disaffection, according to Bly, is to be found in affirming men in their masculinity and in helping them to live as their masculine nature compels them. The Iron John movement is not, however, just an angry male uprising. It is an attempt to positively and constructively help men, through mentoring, activity, and rites of passage to understand and embrace their masculine potential.

Bly's work is an analysis of the tale, Iron John, by the Brother's Grimm. He finds in it an analogy (or perhaps a commentary) on a boy's development into manhood. In this tale a violent wild man by the name of Iron John is captured and caged at the King's palace and subsequently bribes a young prince into releasing him. In order to do this, the prince steals--from under the queen's pillow--the key that unlocks the cage. Having done so, the lad fears punishment, so he runs off with Iron John into the forest.

In the forest, Iron John assigns the prince the task of protecting a well that turns all that enters it into gold. Ultimately, the young prince fails at his task, so the wild man sends him from the forest to labor in hardship and poverty. Yet, because the prince's failure was driven neither by greed nor malice, Iron John promises that in the event of great need, all the prince has to do is come to the edge of the forest and call out "Iron John!" three times and the wild man would supply him with all the resources the young man could need. This the prince does on two occasions--once when the city to which he traveled is being attacked (and the prince leads an army to victory), and once when he seeks to win the heart of a princess (and succeeds). At his wedding, the hard-laboring prince is reunited with his royal parents and with Iron John, who enters as a majestic king and reveals his own royal identity, long hidden by an enchantment which had made him a savage.

In Iron John, Bly argues for the need for male mentors, contending that the lack of them in modern society has led to mentally and emotionally underdeveloped men. Iron John is an appropriate mentor because he possesses both the innate wildness of every man and the potential nobility and virulence these supply when harnessed and focused. Bly also insists upon the need for meaningful "rites of passage," analogized through the releasing of Iron John, the prince's assignment of a task, his expulsion from the forest, his entry into battle, and his winning of the princess. It is suggested that the prince's theft of the key is his breaking away from a mother-figure to be mentored by a man (a necessary step toward masculine independence) and that the young man's labors in hardship are his acceptance of the responsibility that is required for true masculine maturity. In all, Bly advocates a stronger, wilder, and more dangerous vision of masculinity, and reaps the derision of many feminist and pro-feminist critics.

I am in many ways sympathetic to the concerns of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement, and yet I am bothered by some of its unintended consequences, and it is to both of these that I want to direct a few comments.

First, I believe that Bly is correct about men's natural attributes--their "masculine tendencies"--and a strong Scriptural case can be made for this. From the beginning we read that God created mankind "male and female." They were obviously different from one another and on more than just a physical level. The man was oriented toward his task, the assignment given to him when he was created, and the woman was oriented toward the man, having been brought to him and for him at her creation. When God said the man needed "a helper suitable for him," it implies that the helper--a female--would have strengths where the man was lacking. When they fell into sin, the curse affected the orientations of each. For her, the curse affected her at the level of child-bearing and relationship with the man. For him, the curse affected his mission. The author takes great care to clarify that both beings were created in the image of God, that together they fulfilled the meaning of that term, and that each was distinct in qualities and focus from the other--one was male and one was female.

Based upon this created distinction, the apostle Paul insists upon an essential equality and functional diversity of man and woman. Men are to lead in the home and women are to submit to their husbands, having been created "for the man." Men are to exercise authority in the church; women must not exercise a similar authority over men. Peter calls women "the weaker partner." I would argue this refers to her position, which in all of Scripture obligates the stronger (male) to demonstrate special consideration and honor to the weaker (female). She must grow in inner beauty, he must grow in outer courage and spiritual leadership. Failure to honor their distinctions will undermine the callings and spiritual progress of both sexes.

Apart from the Scripture, observation of tendencies within genders is unmistakable and well-documented. Little girls talk, little boys make truck sounds. Little girls play house with their dolls, little boys use them to fight bad guys and win wars. Women prefer love stories, men prefer action movies. Women want to express feelings, men want to fix problems. Many more generalities can be made and, without question, will fail to apply to all members of a gender, but the tendencies are regular enough to garner broad support among psychologists and humorists alike.

I believe there is much to be wary of in a culture that has become increasingly preferential to feminine tendencies. When a man finds inability or lack of desire to express himself in the culturally prescribed manner, we should expect a level of disaffection. This disaffection poses at least two dangers to our society. One is that men will fail to rise to their masculine potential. Being wired to performance and action they will find their efforts frowned upon and devalued, and there will be little encouragement to excel. There will also a lack of contexts in which his masculine potential is fostered in a way with which he identifies. This means that men will fail to perform as intended by God, according to their created nature. It also will compel women to fill the vacancy, hindering their best performance as intended by God. Each gender bears the image of God, but only expresses that image successfully when it does so according to created intent.
Another societal harm is that the man's masculinity will, of nature and necessity, be expressed, but having had no guidance and direction for constructive outlets, he will express his "wild side" in destructive ways--like Iron John before his imprisonment. Thus, I believe it is imperative for us to understand, embrace, harness, and mentor men in their masculinity to help them achieve their potential. Looking at youth, and especially urban youth, culture it is not difficult to identify a faulty, savage masculinity pervading its ethos. Men are over-sexualized, seeking women only for self-gratification and in some cases as a bread-winner. Music and prisons attest to a violence that is both gratuitous and aimless. The noble side of Iron John is not to be found and, likely as Bly suggests, the consequence of an absence of noble male mentors.

There is a nobility to being a man that we must recover, recognizing his distinction from the women with whom he interacts and the tendencies and orientation that are his by God's design, but recognizing also the potential savage within man when his masculinity is not fostered and guided.

With that said, there are dangers in the wholesale imbibing of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement that has taken place in some of the Christian world. The current interest in men's ministry did not originate with the churches. It started among secularists like Bly and his colleagues. The admittedly narrow historical overview given above serves as a warning against an unfiltered application of its convictions to a Christian pursuit of masculinity. In particular, the focus of the modern men's movement is toward a fictionalized warrior/superhero image of masculinity. Thus it pushes men into an unrealistic model of manhood rather than helping men to come to grips with the greatness and value of the tasks they've already been given--and which occupy most of their lives.

In his book, Waking the Dead, John Eldridge achieves a moment of personal enlightenment when he confesses to God his desire to be "God's Aragorn." Yes, Aragorn is a cool character in a fictional novel, but even if he was real, he was called to a particular mission at a point of necessity and most of Eldridge's readers are going to work from 9 to 5 (I have my suspicions that most of his readers are actually at home watching Oprah). This image of the warrior male, while bearing some illustrative value regarding courage, integrity, and a commitment to causes greater than the individual, is not where most men are. Nor is it where most men have been called to be. To set up this ideal before the hearts and minds of men, while perhaps motivational, is destined to disappoint them. Why? Because few have the opportunity to fulfill such a mission. If that existential experience is to define manhood, most will fail to attain it. However, if the image we set before men comes from Scripture rather than mythology, the potential for success becomes real and attainable.

Many men fail to see the reality and the significance of the mission that lies before them. Colossians 3 offers an instructive comment in this respect. "Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord. Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." What could be more noble than that! You, man, are serving the Lord Christ at work. The slaves Paul refers to have not been denied their opportunity to become real men. Rather, they have been given a context in which to express their masculinity through the faithful exercise of their calling.

Going to work is an act of nobility. Nurturing one's children or grandchildren in the faith is an act of nobility (Eph. 6:4). Enabling one's wife in her spiritual progress is an act of nobility (Eph 5:25-27). Providing for your family is an act of nobility (1Tim 5:8). Mowing the lawn, building a deck, balancing a check book, wrestling with your boys or reading with your girls, going fishing or hunting, etc., these are acts of nobility that are part of most men's worlds. They are each a part of the mission we've been given in Scripture: to create, to work, to provide, to sustain the garden and multiply fruitfully. Our problem is not that we don't aim toward greater images. It's that we've lost connection with the divine design and calling of our lives. I don't need to be Aragorn. I need to be Tim--and be him well.

A Christian men's movement needs to recapture the grand vision of life, family, and work that exists for them. It needs to promote the value of those things to which men have been called, and encourage men within their calling to be true men of God. Like Iron John's young prince, our manhood is developed in the wonder and responsibility of our toilsome labors.

Masculine Faith

The demographics of churches in America seem problematic, and the problem is that churches are attended predominantly by women. Don't get me wrong--it's not that I see women's attendance as a negative. It's just that I see men's avoidance of worship as troubling and I want to know why this lack of masculine appeal exists.

I have been in pursuit of what I call "masculine Christianity." Masculine Christianity is one that is strong, bold, persevering, and that captures the vision and allegiance of men. I don't want to create a new or distorted form of Christianity, molded to the itching ears of chauvinists. I'm talking about true and traditional faith in the God of Moses, David, Elijah, Peter, and Saul of Tarsus, about faith in Jesus who faced opposition head on, who preached radical commitment, and who endured God's wrath on our behalf. I'm in pursuit of the Christianity of William Tyndale, John Bunyan, John Paton, Charles Spurgeon, William Wilberforce, and Martin Luther. When I survey history I see at least two era's when a masculine Christianity ruled the day, those of the Puritans and the Reformers, and I've asked myself what distinguished their faith from contemporary evangelicalism. Among other things, theirs was a doctrinally-based Christianity. It's not that ours has eradicated theology entirely, although the doctrinal illiteracy of our time is no secret. It's that theirs focused upon fact and truth as the avenue to the heart, and produced strength, zeal, and a passion for Jesus Christ.

Christianity that reaches men speaks to them at the level of intellect and reason. The resultant faith is not lacking emotion or passion. Rather, it is a faith informed by sound, strong doctrine that inspires courage and godliness among men. So informed, men rise to the challenges of their times. They lead their families, churches, and societies. Their minds are consumed with great themes such as atonement, justification, God's covenants, human depravity, and Christ's Glory. The Puritans and Reformers possessed such a faith. They new the Scriptures and they knew sound doctrine. Yet, contrary to modern expectation, that did not produce a dry and distant relationship with God, nor a harshness of culture. Even a cursory reading of the things they wrote reveal a love for Christ that it seldom imitated today. While their faith affected their culture and daily living, it engaged their mind and warmed their heart. It captured their whole being.

Men must be inspired, but they need to be inspired by the weight and promise of great ideas. They want a cause to uphold, but they must be reached through the mind. Women (speaking stereotypically and generally) are inspired through emotions. They can be satisfied with better feelings and so their worship emphasizes God's love, Jesus' kindness, and their own happiness and hope created by the acceptance they have found in relationship to God. Men, on the other hand, grab hold of truth and respond with vigor. They are dissatisfied with worship that addresses felt needs and feelings. They want something solid.

Many churches have focused upon the former--a feminine, emotionally driven Christianity--without consideration to either the needs of men nor the value of doctrinally-rich, content-laden worship. When exactly this shift occurred I do not know, though it was strengthened by the rise of Neo-Pentecostalism (or Charismatic Christianity) in the 1960's and early 70's. Churches abandoned hymns in favor of choruses--an improvement in terms of musical relevance but pathetically lacking in content. Sermons began to address felt needs for self-improvement and personal well-being. These things connected with women. Some will obviously object that I have painted too narrow a perspective, and I don't mean to imply that these things are true for all members of a gender. My contention is that they are mostly true for a high percentage of each gender. To the degree that worship abandoned men, men abandoned worship.

A very popular chorus comes to mind that demonstrates what I have been saying:

AS THE DEER

As the deer panteth for the water,
So my soul longeth after you.
You alone are my heart’s desire
And I long to worship you.

You alone are my strength, my shield.
To you alone may my spirit yield.
You alone are my heart’s desire
And I long to worship you.

You're my friend, and You are my brother
Even though You are a King.
and I love You more than any other
So much more than anything.

This song, taken very loosely (the first two lines) from Psalm 42, notes very little of God's quality and attributes, and nothing of his greatest work in Christ and in salvation. If one needs a point of comparison, consider Luther's A Mighty Fortress is Our God. As The Deer is a symbol, and perhaps one of the most well known, of a new genre of emotive music. It focuses almost entirely upon how I feel, what I want, and what would make me satisfied (lest anyone think I am simply opposed to modern music, I would counter that I am encouraged by a new wave of doctrinally-rich contemporary hymns/choruses being written by men like Keith Getty). When David penned the Psalm, it was put in the context of suffering, opposition, and the need for God's salvation--powerful, thought-provoking truth. For a generation, however, people have contented themselves with the chorus as here presented. It elicited an emotional response only. Meanwhile, men became increasingly disinterested in the mission and message of churches so oriented.

Churches can influence society once again when they give men access to a masculine relationship with their God, one that affects both heart and mind. They need to return to their foundational, truth-expounding, world-changing mission. They must abandon the idea of a doctrinally-minimal Christianity and imitate the efforts of men like John MacArthur, John Piper, Alistair Begg, and Albert Mohler to impact a new generation of men through exposition and doctrinal clarity. We should applaud the efforts of musicians who seek to help us with the same. When men are again inspired by great truth that elicits zeal, courage, and passion, even the women who follow them will find their faith enriched.

Loss of a friend

I recently lost a friend, or so I thought. He didn't die, he just chose no longer to associate with me. The trigger that compelled his departure was a political statement that offended him. My question, however, concerns not the trigger but the spring that launched him. What incited such a violent and graceless reaction? I doubt it was my statement. I may disagree with friends over their statements, but I'm rarely, RARELY, offended--and never to the point of turning my back on them. Friends disagree, but to suddenly despise someone is a very different matter.

I've begun processing the ordeal, hoping to learn from it. My point here is not to discount the things I should learn about myself, but as these things tend to be multifaceted, a realization came to me about the difference between acquaintanceship and friendship, and the expectations/responses within both. I may well have credited our relationship with a friendship where none existed.

I thought it odd that over the several years that he and his wife attended our church, they refused to become members. A question of membership in a local church involves two matters--agreement with the doctrine and practice of the church, and the desire to place oneself under the authority of that church, for Christ's sake and the good of one's soul. I'm certain that the gentleman agreed with the doctrine of our church, so he must have been unwilling on the other matter. Since I am the pastor of the church, this made for a strange statement about the status of our relationship. I should have noted this from the beginning.

Friendship demands a conveyance of trust. I do not trust all people equally, nor do I have the same expectations of all people I know. Some people are little more than folks I know reasonably well and enjoy. They are not sources of edification or counsel, but they're good for a laugh, a golf partner, or a hand lifting something heavy. They are acquaintances. We might go to dinner together and interact socially at other venues, but trust is superficial. Within this relationship, civility is expected and a modest amount of sacrifice, but little of deeper commitment.

On the other end of the spectrum are those people who are better called friends. We encourage one another. There is a high degree of trust between us. When I need counsel, these are the people I go to. At times when civility and sacrifice are lacking, commitment to the person trumps an ungracious disposition. There are no triggers, because there are no springs. Otherwise it's not a friendship. In the Proverbs, Solomon tells us that "a friend loves at all times." He will not disassociate with you if he does not like your politics. The friendship is more valuable than that. In fact, you will likely hone and sharpen one another's perspectives on such issues. A friend would not refuse to come under your authority as pastor of a church, because he regards you and your insight highly. He doesn't think you're perfect, but he knows God has allowed you to connect for each other's good. He loves at all times; he trusts you and he knows that you trust him.

An acquaintance has a different level of tolerance. He may be easily offended, so you're not as likely to be open with him; he may question your commitment to him, and perhaps rightly so; he may limit his interaction to particular contexts and conversations so as to avoid the deeper level of friendship.

My "'friend's" choice to not become a member where I am a pastor certainly did not convey trust. Perhaps I was undeserving, or perhaps he was lacking in ability to trust (I am not the 1st, or 2nd, pastor he ever objected to). But whatever it was, his departure revealed something about the nature of our relationship that I had not previously considered. We were acquaintances, not friends.

Losing a friend is nearly impossible and, I would imagine, incredibly painful. I would think that one's presence would have to be terribly detrimental, and his responses quite stubborn, to actually lose a friend. My experience at this man's departure was one of despondency. I found it hard to imagine that I was so disagreeable and worthless. Yes, I'm sure I have many things to learn, but one thing I learned is not to invest too heavily in people's departures. I have never lost a friend. I have only lost acquaintances.

Fundamentalist?

In modern vernacular, the term "fundamentalist" generally carries one of two connotations:
1) an angry religious moralist who opposes any enjoyment of life for fear of consequent sin;
2) a rabid religious zealot whose adherence to a particular dogma leads to acts of violence.
I am using the term in neither of these ways.
I suppose the term "evangelical" could substitute, though it no longer means what it once did. For many, what once referred to a life oriented around the gospel, both in its belief and practice, now carries the connotation of a light-hearted and light-weighted Christianity, often focused upon catchy music and traditional values politics.
In 1923, J. Gresham Machen published a book entitled Christianity & Liberalism, which title exemplifies his conclusions concerning a debate that had been raging for more than a decade at Princeton Seminary. Machen, among others, insisted that modernist views rejecting essential doctrines--ranging from the reliability of Scripture to the resurrection of Christ--were antithetical to true Christianity. Thus, the options were Christianity or Liberalism, but the two are by definition mutually exclusive. Of course, a faith based upon certain fundamental doctrines will, of necessity, exclude from its recognition of "genuine" Christianity other alternatives, such as Roman Catholicism (the system, not necessarily individuals), Mormonism, the Watchtower Society, and other lesser known deviations. This is the sense in which I am using the term
Many will accuse such a perspective of intolerance, and make assumptions about its motives and personalities. Let me try to dispel some of these notions. First, I have many friends who do not share my doctrinal convictions. I love these friends. I and my family are socially engaged with them. We rejoice at their successes and sorrow over their failures. Yet, we are not by this compelled to abandon our beliefs. Tolerance does not demand agreement, but civility. I also consider my motives to be sincere. I pray for these friends to come to a knowledge of the truth--a knowledge that will not only improve their present but secure their eternity. Short of such knowledge, I believe their only joys to be temporal and their eternity to be tragic. So I attempt to convince them of my beliefs. A genuine friend could do no other. They need not accept my views to be my friends, but I sure love them and hope they will. In personality, I do not think you would find me to be combative or quarrelsome. I am passionate; I am driven; but, I am happy.
In contrast to the nomenclature "evangelical," my theology is rich, and deep, and meaningful. It shares the great heritage of the reformers and Puritans, rejects the folly of the revivalists of the 19th and early 20th centuries, and distinguishes easily between those doctrines which are essential for true Christian faith, and those which are helpful for Christian maturity and Christian living.
I am a happy fundamentalist.

Christianity: Symbolism or substance?

Lately, a couple matters have gotten me thinking about the nature of Christianity and spirituality in our modern world. First, an Episcopal church in my community has been growing. At least, I am assuming this based upon a new building project that the church has undertaken. Were it not for my awareness of that particular church's social and religious perspectives, I might have given their building project hardly a thought. However, as a church celebrates homosexual relationships and ordination, believes in a right to abortion, and supports most other secular progressive agenda items, their growth is unexpected. Consistently, churches that have embraced these views have been dying. I'll suggest reasons why in another post, but here I just want to ask one question: why is that one growing?
Second, a friend announced she had converted to Roman Catholicism (coincidentally, she left the above named episcopal church because of its positions on social issues). She claims to have had an evangelical conversion experience at some point in her life, so why, having found Christ to be her all-sufficient substitute, would she embrace a dogma that denies salvation by grace alone (see: Council of Trent)?
In both cases there is a common thread: symbolism.
When completed, the episcopal church will take the shape of a cross. It's not that the church appreciates, or even grasps, the significance of the cross. It seems, rather, a desire for a symbiotic relationship to religious architecture over centuries. The base of the cross-shape will point to a recently installed labyrinth, a design taken from an ancient monastery, for contemplation as one walks it--another connection with ancient ways.
In the case of our newly Roman Catholic friend, it was a decision predicated on her recent "grasp" of the meaning of the mysteries in sacraments, papal succession, tradition, etc.
In both cases, Christianity is a more-or-less aesthetic matter. One might call it emotive or contemplative. Some wrongly coin it "spiritual." What its adherents are seeking is greater "meaning"--a gnostic love of mysteries--and a connection with the historical, cultural, and religious significance of the past. There is a great love for liturgy, irrespective of the message of the liturgy (which quite frequently clashes with the message of the homily). If the words to Amazing Grace (or Cat Scratch Fever, for that matter) were appended to an orchestral arrangement or a Gregorian chant, adherents of aesthetic religion would be moved to rejoicing, far beyond the response elicited by the song's original form or intended message.
I'm not opposed to the aesthetic, mind you. My wife is an accomplished (and selling) artist. I appreciate her talents and encourage her in every way I can conceive. I also believe worship should express the beauty of the Lord, as well as the "singing of new songs." At its core, however, an expression of worship should be driven by a love for and communication of the truth. The problem arises where the love for beauty ignores the truth.
I have embraced a faith of a different sort. While appreciating beauty in expression, my faith is fundamentally rational and forensic. It is about the sinless Christ, sacrificed to pay the eternal debt incurred by my violation of God's perfect moral will. It is about faith in a person and an event that occurred in time/space history. It's symbols are bread, wine, and water, but the symbols exist to communicate a message. Expressions of worship not prohibited in Scripture--and which do not lead to a misunderstanding of the truth--may find use within the church, but expression is incidental. Primary is the exaltation of a person and an event.
This is the reason that the reformers moved the pulpit from the side to front and center in church sanctuaries. They wanted to convey the primacy of the Word of God and the doctrine proclaimed, in contrast to symbols and traditions that had so obscured the truth. Real Christianity is about substance, not symbols, and an abundance of the latter cannot compensate for a lack of the former. In fact, it seems most often to undermine the former.
Our modern world, religious life not excluded, seems driven by aesthetic. It matters little what the truth may be. It only matters what feels good and what seems to possess artistic "depth" and "significance." People are interested in feelings rather than ideas, and because of the vacuousness of this existence, there is a longing to connect with something that seems both "substantial" and aesthetically pleasing. So the attraction of the offerings of my local Episcopalian church, or the Roman Catholic Church, grows. It's not a matter of truth. It's a matter of symbolism. Thus, the substance of the plain, sometimes hard, gospel is ignored.