When You Don't Have What It Takes
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I read John Eldridge's book Wild at Heart years ago, but the ideas have been fresh in my mind since last night. I've been wrestling. The question of a man's life, Eldridge says, is "Do I have what it takes?" He says every man's deepest fear is "to be exposed, to be found out, to be discovered as an impostor, and not really a man."
If my experience is any measure, then John is right.
Upon the recommendation of some friends, Olivia and I watched Cinderella Man last night. It is the story of a depression era boxer and his comeback after a career-ending series of injuries. It is based upon a true story. Of course, as a boxing movie it is violent. I am sure I was supposed to come away from the experience encouraged, excited, and confident. I didn't. When the movie ended I went and sat outside, overcome with my own sense of inadequacy.
"I don't have what it takes." The thought is sickening. It literally depresses me. It churns in my stomach like I've been fasting for a week. Worse yet, as the closest person to me in life, as the one most concerned with my well-being, as the one who wants to believe in me as much as I want to believe in myself, I believe Olivia knows it as well. I could maybe live with my failure if no one else knew about it. I could fake it. But, Olivia knows. How it must hurt and disappoint her. She has seen me at my worst far too often. She has been burned by the flames of my misplaced passions. She has been the focus of my anger, even when I wasn't angry at her. She has seen it all.
I am broken. I am bent. I am proud. I am angry. I am jealous. I am full of self-pity. I am wrong. There is something deeply and intensely un-right (imperfect) about me. I am not the man I should be. I am unworthy of respect, honor, love, or anything else my heart needs. How can I still complain when I don't receive them? I have been exposed. I sought my own glory, and it was rust. My wages are death. Now what?
Masculinity is from God. He is my Father. He is my only hope for finding, "what it takes." My earthly father could not do it. He tried, but he is just like me, broken, bent, wrong, imperfect... The word imperfect sounds so inoculate, innocent even, but it's at the heart of the problem. It isn't that "we have sinned and become absolutely depraved," but rather that we "have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." Our crime is imperfection, predicated by our desire to attain to our own glory rather than reflect the glory God intends for us. Yes, we are rebels. Yes, we are proud, vain, shallow, selfish, unfaithful, hateful, angry, hurtful, and covetous. But, it starts with imperfection. Perhaps not all of us are murderers, per say, or dishonorable toward our parents, even in our hearts. That is possible, I suppose. But, we are imperfect. That imperfection may bear different fruit in different lives, but the seed is the same. We all seek the wrong glory.
"I don't have what it takes." Bottom line. I know God does, and I pray He will be merciful to me. All I can do is pray, depend upon Him, hope in Him, and wait. After all, when you don't have what it takes, what else can you do?
,
I read John Eldridge's book Wild at Heart years ago, but the ideas have been fresh in my mind since last night. I've been wrestling. The question of a man's life, Eldridge says, is "Do I have what it takes?" He says every man's deepest fear is "to be exposed, to be found out, to be discovered as an impostor, and not really a man."
If my experience is any measure, then John is right.
Upon the recommendation of some friends, Olivia and I watched Cinderella Man last night. It is the story of a depression era boxer and his comeback after a career-ending series of injuries. It is based upon a true story. Of course, as a boxing movie it is violent. I am sure I was supposed to come away from the experience encouraged, excited, and confident. I didn't. When the movie ended I went and sat outside, overcome with my own sense of inadequacy.
"I don't have what it takes." The thought is sickening. It literally depresses me. It churns in my stomach like I've been fasting for a week. Worse yet, as the closest person to me in life, as the one most concerned with my well-being, as the one who wants to believe in me as much as I want to believe in myself, I believe Olivia knows it as well. I could maybe live with my failure if no one else knew about it. I could fake it. But, Olivia knows. How it must hurt and disappoint her. She has seen me at my worst far too often. She has been burned by the flames of my misplaced passions. She has been the focus of my anger, even when I wasn't angry at her. She has seen it all.
I am broken. I am bent. I am proud. I am angry. I am jealous. I am full of self-pity. I am wrong. There is something deeply and intensely un-right (imperfect) about me. I am not the man I should be. I am unworthy of respect, honor, love, or anything else my heart needs. How can I still complain when I don't receive them? I have been exposed. I sought my own glory, and it was rust. My wages are death. Now what?
Masculinity is from God. He is my Father. He is my only hope for finding, "what it takes." My earthly father could not do it. He tried, but he is just like me, broken, bent, wrong, imperfect... The word imperfect sounds so inoculate, innocent even, but it's at the heart of the problem. It isn't that "we have sinned and become absolutely depraved," but rather that we "have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." Our crime is imperfection, predicated by our desire to attain to our own glory rather than reflect the glory God intends for us. Yes, we are rebels. Yes, we are proud, vain, shallow, selfish, unfaithful, hateful, angry, hurtful, and covetous. But, it starts with imperfection. Perhaps not all of us are murderers, per say, or dishonorable toward our parents, even in our hearts. That is possible, I suppose. But, we are imperfect. That imperfection may bear different fruit in different lives, but the seed is the same. We all seek the wrong glory.
"I don't have what it takes." Bottom line. I know God does, and I pray He will be merciful to me. All I can do is pray, depend upon Him, hope in Him, and wait. After all, when you don't have what it takes, what else can you do?
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