Today I begin with The Silence of Adam

So I am beginning a book by Larry Crabb (with Don Hudson & Al Andrews) called "The Silence of Adam." Not sure exactly what it will contain, but it's basically about the passivity of men and how we fail to be the men we were intended to be.

I've been on a long journey these past several months trying to figure out what manhood really is. So far, I've come to this conclusion:

"I don't know dick about being a man."

I'm excited to begin this book for two reasons:

1. I'm a big fan of Larry Crabb. I've had to read his book "Inside Out" four times (3 as an Intern & once for my church's leadership class.) I've also seen him speak and while his writing can be dry at times, I find him to be a fascinating speaker.
2. More importantly, I'm too passive. I'm pretty much a yella-belly coward. I think some events and realizations over the past two years have brought me to an understanding that if I want to become the man God wishes me to be, I need to confront this passivity. I need God to lead me into a confrontation with this ugly beast inside of me that has strangled my ability to love, to do right, and to follow God with the passion He asks of me.

This book basically says in it's introduction that the passivity of man (like all sin) stems from one single event. The fall of Adam and Eve. When Adam failed to keep Eve from picking and eating the fruit from the forbidden tree, he set the bar for what would become the modus operandi of all men to come after.

As Crabb says on page 12:

Since Adam every man has had a natural inclination to remain silent when he should speak. A man is most comfortable in situations in which he knows exactly what to do. When things get confusing and scary, his insides tighten and he backs away. When life frustrates him with its maddening unpredictability, he feels the anger rise within him. And then, filled with terror and rage, he forgets God's truth and looks out for himself.

I am a man/boy obsessed with my own self-comfort. I would prefer a world of pillows and cotton candy. Where there are no rocks, no hard places, no awkward moments, and no tough decisions.

Crabb says in the introduction:

"Spiritual manhood involves the courage to keep on moving--in the middle of overwhelming confusion--toward relationships."

Life will never be comfy, cozy--not on this earth--but manhood has never been about "toughing it out" or "fixing things" so they are perfect. Manhood is continuing to love the woman that is hard to love. To care for the father with the cold shoulder. To turn to prayer when lust pulls at your heart and invades your mind. Relationships are the only thing worth giving a damn about.

Crabb says that God doesn't want to make us stronger men, but braver men. He doesn't want more competant men, but men who are more willing to admit incompetance and rely on Him. God doesn't want men who run away from confusion, but head straight on into it searching for God.

Today, I begin to look for God in this fight. Today I ask God to overcome the things that I cannot and to put a fire in my that I don't have right now.

Today I ask God to lend me a voice when I would much rather rip out my own throat.

I leave any readers with this last bit. As I read Crabb's writing today, a song from the band mewithoutYou popped into my head. So I'd like to leave you with these lyrics today (Listen here).

"MESSES OF MEN"
I do not exist, but faithfully insist,
Sailing in our separate ships and from each tiny caravelle.
Tiring of trying, with unnecessary dying,
Like the horseshoe crab in it's proper season sheds it's shell.
Such distance from our friends,
Like a scratch across the lens,
Made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood.
And our paper blew away before we'd left the bay.
So half blind, we wrote these songs on sheets of salty wood.

Caught me makin' eyes at the other boatman's wife,
And heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughter.
I'd set my course for land, but you well understand,
It takes a steady hand to navigate adultrous water.
The propeller's spinning blades held aquaintance with the waves,
As there's mistakes I've made no rowing could outrun.
The cloth low on the mast, I say I got no past,
I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son.

The tarnish on my brass, the mildew on my glass--
I'd never want someone so crass as to want someone like me.
But a few leagues off the shore, I bit a flashing lure,
And I assure you it was not what I expected it to be.
I still tastes its' kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel.
To an anchor ever dropped, sea-sick yet still docked,
Captain spotted napping with his first mate at the wheel!

We'll float forgetfully along, with no need to be strong,
We keep our confessions long, but when we pray we keep it short.
I drank a thimble full of fire,
I'm not ever coming back...
Oh, my God.

I do not exist, but faithfully insist,
While watching sink the heavy ship with everything we knew!
And if ever you come near, I'll hold up high a mirror.
Lord, I could never show you anything as beautiful as you.