Here is a bit more from John Eldridge in his book Wild At Heart: (It's OK... I'm ready for your reaction. Fire away.)
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A few years ago now my middle son, Blaine, made the big transition to first grade. That’s a huge step for any child—leaving the comfort and safety of Mom’s side, spending all day at school, being among the “big kids.” But Blaine’s a very outgoing and winsome boy, a born leader, and we knew he’d handle it swimmingly. Every night at the dinner table he regaled us with tales of the day’s adventures. It was fun to recall with him the joys of those early school days—a shiny new lunchbox, brand-new yellow No. 2 pencils, a box of Crayolas with a built-in sharpener, a new desk, and new friends. We heard all about his new teacher, gym class, what they played at recess, how he was emerging as a leader in all the games. But then one night he was silent. “What’s wrong, Tiger?” I asked. He wouldn’t say, wouldn’t even look up. “What happened?” He didn’t want to talk about it. Finally, the story came out—a bully. Some first-grade poser had pushed him down on the playground in front of all his friends. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he told us the story.
“Blaine, look at me.” He raised his tearful eyes slowly, reluctantly. There was shame written all over his face. “I want you to listen very closely to what I am about to say. The next time that bully pushes you down, here is what I want you to do—are you listening, Blaine?” He nodded, his big wet eyes fixed on mine. “I want you to get up... and I want you to hit him... as hard as you possibly can.” A look of embarrassed delight came over Blaine’s face. Then he smiled.
Good Lord—why did I give him such advice? And why was he delighted with it? Why are some of you delighted with it, while others are appalled?
Yes, I know that Jesus told us to turn the other cheek. But we have really misused that verse. You cannot teach a boy to use his strength by stripping him of it. Jesus was able to retaliate, believe me. But he chose not to. And yet we suggest that a boy who is mocked, shamed before his fellows, stripped of all power and dignity should stay in that beaten place because Jesus wants him there? You will emasculate him for life. From that point on, all will be passive and fearful. He will grow up never knowing how to stand his ground, never knowing if he is a man indeed. Oh yes, he will be courteous, sweet even, deferential, minding all his manners. It may look moral, it may look like turning the other cheek, but it is merely weakness. You cannot turn a cheek you do not have. Our churches are full of such men.
At that moment, Blaine’s soul was hanging in the balance. Then the fire came back into his eyes and the shame disappeared. But for many, many men their souls still hang in the balance because no one, no one has ever invited them to be dangerous, to know their own strength, to discover that they have what it takes. “I feel there is this stormy ocean within me, and I keep trying to make those waters calm and placid,” confessed a young friend in his early twenties. “I would love to be dangerous,” he said, sighing. “You mean... it’s possible? I feel like I have to ask permission.” Why on earth would a young man have to ask permission to be a man? Because the assault continues long after the wound has been given. I don’t mean to create a wrong impression—a man is not wounded once, but many, many times in the course of his life. Nearly every blow ends up falling in the same place: against his strength. Life takes it away, one vertebra at a time, until in the end he has no spine at all.
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Now you’re out there God knows where
You’re one of the walking wounded.
—JAN KRIST
“Walking Wounded”
by Jan Krist and Paul Murphy
To give a man back his heart is the hardest mission on earth.
—FROM THE MOVIE MICHAEL
Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight.
—BRUCE COCKBURN
“Lovers in a Dangerous Time”
(written in 1982 for Stealing Fire)
You’re one of the walking wounded.
—JAN KRIST
“Walking Wounded”
by Jan Krist and Paul Murphy
To give a man back his heart is the hardest mission on earth.
—FROM THE MOVIE MICHAEL
Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight.
—BRUCE COCKBURN
“Lovers in a Dangerous Time”
(written in 1982 for Stealing Fire)
A few years ago now my middle son, Blaine, made the big transition to first grade. That’s a huge step for any child—leaving the comfort and safety of Mom’s side, spending all day at school, being among the “big kids.” But Blaine’s a very outgoing and winsome boy, a born leader, and we knew he’d handle it swimmingly. Every night at the dinner table he regaled us with tales of the day’s adventures. It was fun to recall with him the joys of those early school days—a shiny new lunchbox, brand-new yellow No. 2 pencils, a box of Crayolas with a built-in sharpener, a new desk, and new friends. We heard all about his new teacher, gym class, what they played at recess, how he was emerging as a leader in all the games. But then one night he was silent. “What’s wrong, Tiger?” I asked. He wouldn’t say, wouldn’t even look up. “What happened?” He didn’t want to talk about it. Finally, the story came out—a bully. Some first-grade poser had pushed him down on the playground in front of all his friends. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he told us the story.
“Blaine, look at me.” He raised his tearful eyes slowly, reluctantly. There was shame written all over his face. “I want you to listen very closely to what I am about to say. The next time that bully pushes you down, here is what I want you to do—are you listening, Blaine?” He nodded, his big wet eyes fixed on mine. “I want you to get up... and I want you to hit him... as hard as you possibly can.” A look of embarrassed delight came over Blaine’s face. Then he smiled.
Good Lord—why did I give him such advice? And why was he delighted with it? Why are some of you delighted with it, while others are appalled?
Yes, I know that Jesus told us to turn the other cheek. But we have really misused that verse. You cannot teach a boy to use his strength by stripping him of it. Jesus was able to retaliate, believe me. But he chose not to. And yet we suggest that a boy who is mocked, shamed before his fellows, stripped of all power and dignity should stay in that beaten place because Jesus wants him there? You will emasculate him for life. From that point on, all will be passive and fearful. He will grow up never knowing how to stand his ground, never knowing if he is a man indeed. Oh yes, he will be courteous, sweet even, deferential, minding all his manners. It may look moral, it may look like turning the other cheek, but it is merely weakness. You cannot turn a cheek you do not have. Our churches are full of such men.
At that moment, Blaine’s soul was hanging in the balance. Then the fire came back into his eyes and the shame disappeared. But for many, many men their souls still hang in the balance because no one, no one has ever invited them to be dangerous, to know their own strength, to discover that they have what it takes. “I feel there is this stormy ocean within me, and I keep trying to make those waters calm and placid,” confessed a young friend in his early twenties. “I would love to be dangerous,” he said, sighing. “You mean... it’s possible? I feel like I have to ask permission.” Why on earth would a young man have to ask permission to be a man? Because the assault continues long after the wound has been given. I don’t mean to create a wrong impression—a man is not wounded once, but many, many times in the course of his life. Nearly every blow ends up falling in the same place: against his strength. Life takes it away, one vertebra at a time, until in the end he has no spine at all.
