One afternoon, at the church library, a friend and I got into a conversation about what makes a man. Not so much the biology—what makes male different from female—as about what makes man different from boy.
Was it as simple as age? Or as superficial as appearance? Or did it come down to how many attributes he fulfilled as defined by Art of Manliness? Who's to say what the standard is, anyway—are you looking to judge this according to the holy book, or by the stick of our society and culture? (And God knows the latter has given us everything—from toxic hyper-masculinity to passive emasculation—but the answer.)
At one point we rattled off a bunch of people we knew. Look at this guy, he said. He has a steady job, a wife and two kids. He takes good care of his body and fixes things around the house. Agreed—he's a man. This other guy...he's living at home with his parents, struggling to make ends meet. He hasn't figured out a direction for his life. He calls him a boy.
But then I bring up a third guy, who is also single and slaving away as a "starving artist." Yet, neither of us was quick to label him as a boy. In fact, we thought he was quite a man. Is it because he's not as socially awkward? Or better capable of making decisions? Perhaps it was his determination to live out his passion in light of hardship?
Then came the women—it was time for prayer meeting—and the conversation quickly ended and that was that.
*****
Maybe we needn't have the answer, and it wasn't in our place to judge.
But after that talk, I couldn't help but take a long look in the mirror. I had to measure. Am I a man?
I'm married (happily). I have a steady, stable career. I serve in the local community, and some people look up to me (whether I like it or not). If it's a sense of responsibility that seems to mark a man, then I'm doing alright on paper.
But if you were to look beyond the surface, there's still many insecurities and fears I haven't tackled. The fear of not having enough, not being enough. Doubts that circle around whether my efforts for good amount to anything at all, doubts of what my purpose is beyond a life of comfort. Growing up, there was always a sense that the problems you carried as a boy would disappear when you became an adult. But they don’t.
The milestones, the achievements, the responsibilities—they don't prove much of anything. If you're still a boy, they might make you feel better about yourself, help you feel ahead in the game of life. But they can also trap you. How many "men" have we seen who seem to have the perfect family or climb the corporate ladder of success, to only be exposed later on as a fraud or a cheat?
Lately, I've been thinking that being a man (at least in part) involves the willingness to live your life with openness and honesty. This means owning up to your faults, and being courageous in facing your hurts, scars, and fears. A boy merely looks to escape or suppress the things that are difficult, but a man will face them with boldness.
Manhood involves sacrifice and death of the ego. I knew what dying to myself meant, or so I thought. Then I got married. Now I have someone to answer to every evening I come home. Though she loves me even at my worst, she needs and deserves me at my best. I can’t take days off. (Even now, I’m afraid my perspective will be shamed horribly by fatherhood.)
Sometimes, I get caught up in my dreams about the next "big thing." Thoughts of achieving greater success or becoming a parent or having a greater impact in the world. Now, I'm learning that as the prizes get bigger, so do the stakes. You don't get to level up if you don't first defeat the boss. If I'm not willing to do the hard work now, I won't be the only one to suffer, but so will my friends and family, too.
Being a man means doing the hard things. It also means allowing the hard things to be done to you—the shattering and humiliation of your ego, the loosening up of your need for worldly approval, the wrestling and dealing with what Carl Jung calls your "shadow self."
This is not fun work. It is, however, necessary—that is, if we so choose to seek the greater meaning and enjoyment of life.
There is no other choice. Fight the boss or stay stuck in the stage. I guess it's time to man up.