Wild at Brain

A friend of mine lent me Wild at Heart by John Eldredge. He said, on a post-it note, “Didn’t know if you had this. Another good read.” Coming so highly recommended as it did I had to jump in right away! (Right after I finished Rob Bell’s Jesus Wants to Save Christians, get through a few more pages of Terry Pratchett’s Thief of Time and start in on Chazown by Craig Groeschel. Oh, and I’m working through D.A. Carson’s Becoming Conversant with the Emergent Church. Oh and then there is that other book on Rethinking Small Groups or something by someone. Anyway, I was eager to start!)I haven’t finished the book yet. I can’t, in fact. I am too busy wrestling with the ideas the book inspired in me. (I say “wrestling” because it’s manly. I’m trying to be manly. Tell me what you think, OK?)

I’ve been wrestling… no… tackling-with-fierce-intent some really interesting ideas that Eldredge brought up. For instance, I didn’t know “Little girls do not invent games where large numbers of people die” (p10). What next? Boys aren’t supposed to play with Strawberry Shortcake dolls because they smell good? Yeah right!

As I grappled-with-enormous-animosity the comments that Eldredge was making it dawned on me: I wasn’t dressed for this kind of book! I put the book down and went upstairs to my room. In my drawer (that holds my drawers, ha! I am so frakkin funny!) I found what I was looking for: a Mexican wrestling mask. I donned the dangerous accoutrement and went back to reading.

(In fact, while my co-workers and family think it odd, I have still to take it off! Wild at Heart indeed!)

I was surprised to find out that Eldredge thinks men think Jesus is “meek and mild” (p22). I personally think this is because of communion. Wafers with no taste and watered down grape juice? Gimme a break! If communion was served with better tasting body and blood I bet men wouldn’t think of Jesus as such a wimp.

Seriously, if a guy tastes like buffalo wings and vodka he had to have been one bad man!

On page 29, Eldredge says that men are supposed to swim with pods of killer whales and get bull moosesmeese? mad at you. Even though I’m wearing a wrestling mask, red and black and all danger no less, and pouncing-like-a-mad-gorilla-that-is-really-angry over these thoughts I have to admit it. To myself and to you.

I am not a man.

I mean, I’ve never once said to myself, “Self, we need to get a bull moose mad at us today. Adventure! YeeHaa!” Have you?

Probably not, non-man.

(To feel more manly, I just put on an eye patch and ripped my shirt so it looks tattered. Maybe from a fight with a mad iguana or perhaps caused by the scream of a banshee.)

(Also, I’m gonna talk in pirate from this point on. Matey. I be a bad mama-jama. Yar!)

On page 41, Eldredge spouts through his lame non-pirate mouth that yonder men who wear trousers don’t look like passionate, fierce, wild at heart men! Arrgh! I like wearing me pants! But to prove I be more of a man than ye, I’ll go without!

So here I stand, matey! Talking pirate, wearing a Mexican wrestling mask and eye patch, with a ripped shirt, and now no trousers! Argh! I be a fierce and wild at heart man now, eye? Eiyaiy.. aye?

By yon time that Eldredge the non-man (argh, he be a writer, right?) says that Adam was ashamed because he be naked (p52) me mind starts to hammer-punch-a-donkey-in-the-kidneys-with-me-pirate-hook (I cut off me hand and had yon hook installed to prove me manliness) and I says to meself, “Self Pirate, Ye be nakid too! Shant you feel… Shunt ye feel… whatever. Shouldn’t I be ashamed?”

I give up on the pirate accent, I take off my mask and my eye patch. I’ll probably have to toss the shirt. I get real with myself.

Am I a man? Have I traded my dreams of adventure for the reality of a keyboard? Has this affected my relationship with my wife? Is she not pursued and loved romantically and passionately like she should be? Has this affected my view of God and Jesus? Meek and mild and “all impotent God” as I once heard sung.

Maybe so.

On the inside, I see myself as buff and sexy and strong and out-doorsy. On the inside.

So I resolved to do something handy and out-doorsy. I am going to design a play-set for me and my boy(s) to dress up with swords and shields and water guns and “kill” each other to save the beauty!

I’ll get started on my days off. But now, I have to go to work!

It’s only at the time that I walk into work and pass my reps desks that I realize I never put my trousers back on.


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