The Not-So-Golden Child

The idea of parental favoritism is nothing new. We see examples of it in literature throughout the ages. We see examples in scripture. It's a tale as old as time.

I've always found parental favoritism interesting. One or both parents just seem to click with one child, while another child tends to be left to fend for himself. I get it. We all get along with those whose personalities complement our own. We tend to distance ourselves from those whose personalities or character traits clash with ours. It's normal and natural.

Normal and natural among peers. It is not normal or natural in relation to our children.

I don't often open up about my personal wounds. Let me share something with you that I've never openly discussed. I'm risking a lot by bringing this out, because many of those involved in this story could read this post, thereby creating a whirlpool of conflict. However, the facts are the facts, and our reactions to those facts are our choices.

I grew up in Southern California. My dad's family had traveled and sung all over the West Coast for years. They sang in churches each weekend. There was a lot of talent in the group, and they were becoming fairly well-known in the regional southern gospel community. My dad was the second of three sons, all of whom played roles in the family musical group.

My cousins and I appeared, at first, in stair-steps. My brother was the first born, then my cousin a year later, then I came along a year after that. Another cousin was born a few years after I was, then a set of twins. Then my youngest uncle began having daughters. It made for large gatherings and fun times, mostly.

I noticed while growing up, though, that my cousins spent far more time with my grandparents than my brother and I did. It always seemed odd to me that my family lived just twenty minutes away, but saw my grandparents extremely rarely. Each time we did see them, my cousins were there. And...my cousins were always talking about how Grandma and Grandpa had gone with them to some event or how Grandma and Grandpa had bought them some gift or another. Grandma and Grandpa were always having the cousins over to spend the nights or to watch them while their parents went somewhere. My cousins, though, lived twice as far from them as we did.

Over time, I realized two things: First, my parents enjoyed spending time with my brother and me, and didn't take us to our grandparents' place to be babysat. Second, my grandparents never set up get-togethers with us the way they did with my cousins. To be fair, this applied to only one set of cousins, as my dad's youngest brother's daughters were born much later.

My dad was the middle child, the second of three brothers. He had been the lead singer for the family's singing group for a very long time, but had left the group to pursue his calling as a pastor. The fact that the singing group traveled a lot would explain much of the fact that my cousins spent more time with my grandparents. However, what about the many weekdays they spent together and the various social get-togethers my grandparents seemed to be arranging with them all the time?

It may seem petty, but such favoritism among the cousins had a lasting impact on my brother and me. Over time, we hardly knew our grandparents anymore. It stung each time we were at a family get-together and our cousins would show off the items my grandparents had bought for them. It stung each time we'd hear funny stories about things that had been said and done at one of the many events they'd gone to with my cousins.

I was a child. I was their grandchild. They showed no interest in me. That hurt. That left scars.

I didn't realize at the time that this was the pattern they'd followed with my father, either. Being the middle child, my dad was between the first-born son and the much younger "baby" son. The first-born was treated as if he could do no wrong, and the youngest son's every talent, accomplishment, and milestone was lauded and magnified. My dad worked two jobs and pastored a church full time, but went unrecognized.

I have five children. Two are adults and three are at home with me. I cannot fathom the thought process that allows a parent to favor one child over another. Some of my children are more like me than others. Some of them are totally different. Some communicate with me more and some less. Yet, with the birth of each subsequent child, my love for the previous ones did not decrease. My interest in them did not decrease. Just when I thought my family was complete, God added another person to it. However, instead of dividing a finite amount of love by one more person, it seems God added exponentially more love to my heart, and it increased toward all of my kids. That's what parenting should be.

Not so with some parents, though. It seemed, in my dad's case, that his parents' affections migrated toward the two sons (and their families) who had the most in common with them. My oldest uncle and my younger uncle remained in the singing group, cutting several albums with the family, and traveling with them from singing engagement to singing engagement. I guess that was what was important to them, at least more important than seeking out the middle son and his two sons who would have loved to have a relationship with their grandparents as well.

It's sad that people would neglect one of their children's needs for a relationship while boasting on and on about how wonderful their other sons were and how great their kids were. Frankly, I got sick of hearing it. For a long time I resented my cousins for it. I realized that was misplaced resentment, though, and have adjusted my thinking. I now have pretty good relationships with several of my cousins. With the rest of the family, my brother and I are still outsiders. Though we've lived respectable lives, stayed out of trouble, and spent our lives serving God rather than ourselves, we never could break into the favored status required to be an integral part of our family.

It still stings, to an extent. I'm not angry anymore. My grandfather passed on a couple of decades ago, and my grandmother is in her mid-nineties. I hold no ill-will toward her. I simply don't know her. She's a stranger. I know her time on earth is growing short. I expect that when I find she has gone to her reward, I'll pause and consider it just like I would any other acquaintance. However, it won't be as though I've lost someone close to me. That was her choice. Over nearly five decades, I've been nothing more than an afterthought.

This all came to mind recently as I've watched the same thing happen to my children. My wife has two sisters, each with multiple children. My in-laws are following a very similar pattern for different reasons. My wife is the oldest of the three daughters. She is a godly woman, a devoted wife, a fantastic mother. Her sisters' lives have been far less stable. Therefore, the lives of their children have been rather tumultuous.

Much as my grandparents remained attached to the sons with whom they shared the most common interests, my mother-in-law is doing the same. Two of her daughters are following diligently her examples in outlook and actions, choices, and consequences. As a result, she feels very comfortable with them, often justifying their behaviors while at the same time feigning great frustration with them in gestures that would rival the overacting of a stand-in vaudevillian entertainer.

My wife, because of her lifestyle choices, doesn't fit in. She doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, abuses no chemicals, is in a stable marriage. She speaks articulately, strives to better herself, is always learning, and is an integral part of her children's daily activities. She homeschools the children, cooks most things from scratch, has worked hard to support herself, and is respectful. She removes herself from the drama that typically surrounds so many people. Many of these traits make her much different than her siblings.

My mother-in-law, on the other hand, can identify with many of the choices that her second and third daughters. They are very similar in personality and outlook to her. Therefore, mother and daughters tend to band together, often to the exclusion of my wife. Reminiscent of my experiences as a child, my wife lives twenty minutes from her mother but rarely sees her. When my wife reaches out, she is filled in on how busy her mom is with her other two sisters and their children.

My wife recently gently expressed her frustration with the fact that her mom never has time for my wife or our kids. Her mom texted her, saying that they'd set up a time the following week to get together. My wife never heard back. Then, when my wife reached out again, asking about their get-together, her mom said she had to run some errands with one of her other grandchildren. Then, when my wife demonstrated how this fits the pattern, she was told that my in-laws would like to take my wife and children to the zoo to make up for it.

As the day for the zoo trip grew nearer, my wife was told that the other grandchildren would have to be there as well. Then the event never materialized because of separate activities with the other grandkids.

Look, I'm just going to say it like it is. I know this post is turning into a rant. That wasn't my intention. However, on the occasions when my in-laws have time for my kids, the other grandkids are almost always present. We all get to hear of all the special events they share, of the grandparents' days at school, of the babysitting, of the overnighters, of the times Grandma and Grandpa take them to their timeshare property, of the clothes they buy them, of the toys they buy them, etc. My kids sit wide-eyed at the stories of fun and adventure. They never say anything about it. But it marks them. It scars them the same way it scarred me as a child. It wounds my wife.

I'm probably in a unique position. Because of my background, it's a bit easier for me to be aloof and remove myself from circles of people who don't want to have two-way relationships. It's tougher for my wife. My kids, as well.

I'm okay with not being accepted into my in-laws' family. I am saddened for my wife and for our children, however. They deserve better.

My wife is the most loving, compassionate, giving person I've ever known. My children are the best behaved, brightest minded, most thoughtful and polite children you can imagine. If you're related to them and make yourself too busy to spend time with them, I pity you your loss.

My children deserve better.

I will give them better. My job as their father is to protect and provide for them. That is exactly what I will do. I will protect my family from as many of the selfish, careless wounds that come from people who should know better. And I will provide them a loving, fulfilling environment in which they can thrive and grow into healthy, wholesome, loving young adults. It's a shame their grandparents, aunts, and cousins will miss out on knowing them as they grow up.

Just a Few Hours To Go...

Thirty year-old Lauren Rousseau was a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary.  On December 14, 2012 she went to work like any other day.  Anyone who has ever worked with young children knows that the process of corralling youngsters is very similar to the job of herding cats.  This was Lauren's job, and she was hard at it that day.

Thirty-eight year-old Anthony Tempesta was a husband and father who worked as a bond broker for Cantor Fitzgerald in New York.  On September 11, 2001, he was working on the 105th floor of One World Trade Center.  It was his daughter's seventh birthday.  His wife had called him because their front door had been open when she awoke that morning.  He'd stayed on the phone with her while she'd checked the house for intruders.

Army Pfc. Michael Pearson was just twenty-two years old.  He had left a local furniture business job to join the military and have the opportunity to serve his country.  He was known for having a great sense of humor and loved "horsing around with his nieces and nephews."  He was at Fort Hood Army Base in Texas on November 5, 2009.

Lori Ann Lewis-Rivera was a wife and mother who was simply going about her daily activities, vacuuming out her minivan at a Shell station in Kensington, MD on October 3, 2002.  Life doesn't get more normal than that, right?  The mundane tasks of an ordinary day.  However, like those listed above her and like so many more, her time on earth was about to come to an end.

On Monday, two explosions rocked the finish-line area of the Boston Marathon.  Three died and scores were injured. Later, MITPD officer Sean Collier was murdered.  In West, TX, a fertilizer plant exploded killing fourteen and injuring nearly two hundred others.  An 8-month-old girl was killed and her mother badly injured when a driver hit a bus stop in a St. Louis suburb.

The people I've listed here were just like you and me.  They had families, lives, jobs and daily duties.  They had bills, stresses, successes and failures. They were imperfect yet beautiful creatures who were trying to do the best they could in the world.

If you're like me at all, your heart's desire is to give your children a better life than your own.  You work hard, whether in an office, a factory, or in your home.  You end your days tired from your daily activities and you get up in the morning to repeat the cycle.  You have bills that you sometimes have to struggle to pay.  You have stresses from employers, neighbors or family members that cause you to sometimes lose sleep.

Sound familiar?  It's a story as old as time.  We all have such circumstances and stresses.  We have people we love and who love us.  We have certain obligations that we spend a large amount of time trying to meet.  We have joys and we have struggles.  It's just part of being human.

The thing that struck me today, in the wake of this week's violence and mayhem was the suddenness of the events that took their lives.  These people--and the countless just like them--were simply going about their business.  Do you think they awoke on their fateful morning thinking that they had just a few hours to go?

Probably not.  And neither did I this morning when I left for work.  Neither did you when you started your day today.  And yet, today could be that day.  It can come by human hand, by illness, or by happenstance.  Life can be extinguished in an instant. James 4:14 says:  "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

It sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it?  Yet, in another verse, scripture says: "So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

So, what's my point?  The Bible tells us how fleeting life is, yet we're not supposed to worry about it.  Interesting, and so counter-intuitive, right?  It's a piece of cake, actually.  

Yes, life is fleeting.  Yes, life can be snuffed out or radically changed in an unexpected instant.  And no, we are not to worry about it.  And... yes, it is possible!  You see, when you've given your life to Christ, committed your very existence and all your plans and ambitions to Him, the "peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7)  When the Spirit of God thrives within you, there is no room for fear.  God is love and "perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." (1 John 4:18)

When you've given yourself to Christ, you recognize His sovereignty and His power.  He is then in charge of your well-being.  If He is sovereign in our lives, then we must choose to believe that He has the right to decide what comes our way.  That way we can live in that peace that passes understanding--that peace that, no matter what's going on around us, places its trust in our sovereign God.  That's true peace.  That's peace that doesn't rely on my strengths or weaknesses, but places trust in God, Who has no weaknesses!  

You can have this peace.  All you have to do is stop relying on yourself or others for your assurance.  Turn to God, Who is the Author and Finisher of our faith.

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to contact me.  My email address is 2010.michaelland@gmail.com.  

Everything Changes...

I'm sitting on my couch with my five-year-old stepson.  He's watching A Dolphin's Tale on DVD, wearing his Avengers pajamas and holding his lavender bunny.  I'm watching my wife.  She's lying on the loveseat deeply engrossed in whatever is on her cellphone's screen... probably Pinterest or something.  (Insert imaginary photo here.  You know, the photo that I just secretly took but am terrified to post without her permission.) Yep, she just texted me a photo she found on Pinterest.

It's moments like this that burn themselves into my mind with the intensity of white-hot steel, leaving indelible memories like the marks my old wood-burner left on pieces of pine during my youth.  These are memories cemented to my soul by the strongest adhesive ever--emotion.

My beautiful wife and I are expecting a baby.  She was actually due five days ago.  

This has been a rough pregnancy, with multiple trips to the emergency room and not a small amount of stress.    For the past week my wife hasn't been able to move the left side of her face due to the sudden onset of Bell's Palsy, adding substantially to Krystal's discomfort and stress.

Tomorrow everything changes.  Tomorrow the doctor will induce Krystal.  We're not sure how we feel about the induction, but considering some of the difficulties Krystal has been facing, the doctor thinks it's a good idea.

So, tomorrow we will finally meet our little Palin Nichole face to face.  Tomorrow will be her birthday, and my heart swells with the possibilities.  We've talked to her, sung to her, rubbed her back (or whatever was protruding from Krystal's abdomen) and prayed for her.  We're thrilled that she'll be in our arms by this time tomorrow.

I think about her future.  I think of how she'll look and the smell of her hair.  I think about how she'll drool as she grows and begins to teethe.  I think of her school years and boys and high school dances.  I think about the gift I will give her on her wedding day and the heart-rending pain in my chest as I walk her down the aisle to give her to her husband.

I think about our little family unit, and how it will never quite be the same.  I think about that beautiful lady on the loveseat and this great little boy beside me.  I think about my sons in Nevada, Adam and Isaac and the bridges that are being rebuilt there.

Everything changes.  Tomorrow marks not only Palin's first breath of fresh air, her first glimpse of light, or the first time we get to touch her skin.  It marks a paradigm shift in our family structure.  Everything we've come to see as "the norm" changes tomorrow.  

And I welcome it.  

I welcome her.

Palin Nichole Land

Daily Whim 11-04-2012

This is an unusual time in my life.  I'm sitting in my living room with The Pursuit of Happyness playing on the DVD player.  To my left, my mother is sitting in the brown faux-leather chair.  To my right, my wife sits on the love-seat eating a leftover piece of cake from yesterday's baby shower.  Against the wall is a table that holds a pile of gifts brought to the shower by friends and family.  Above our fireplace is a banner that says "Baby Shower" in bright colors and cute shapes.

Krystal's good friend, Mallory, is on her way over to hang out with Krystal for a bit. Tiegen is sitting on the couch next to me, eating a cookie and dropping crumbs on my shoulder.

In the midst of it all, I feel the need to write.

It's an interesting time.  Krystal's doctor has said that Krystal is dilating and her body is prepared to go into labor.  She could, literally, go into labor at any time.

A month ago, the Davis Cellular store I managed was acquired by a larger company called Z Wireless.  It came as a bit of a shock at first, but as time has gone by, I've come to realize that there are many more opportunities for me with Z Wireless.  It's growing rapidly, and opportunities for advancement come far more often.  As much as I loved working for Davis Cellular, I believe God has His hand in this.

So, here I sit:  pregnant wife on one side expecting to go into labor any moment, adjusting to a new work culture, wondering who is going to cover my store when I have to head to the hospital, preparing to vote in one of the most crucial elections in recent history, and desperately... desperately needing a day of solitude.

It isn't that I don't want to be around my family.  Not in the slightest.  It's that I simply need everything to pause for just one day while my brain tries to catch up.  There's a lot of jumbled thoughts bouncing around inside my skull -- thoughts about finances, about patriotism, about family dynamics -- thoughts about health, about the age of our car, about how five-year-old Tiegen is going to handle having a baby invading his life -- about ministry, about dreams, about what the next step is in the journey God has called me into -- about relatives, about lawn mowing, about coffee and how it's helped me survive this last freakishly fast month.  My mind is spinning.

A few months ago, I went to my oldest son's high school graduation.  He's eighteen and ready to launch his Air Force career.  My second son is fourteen and an amazing guy whose options in life are limitless.  I long so deeply to be close to them.  Tiegen, Krystal's five-year-old son, is an outstanding young man whose bright, cheerful personality and impressive intelligence make him a joy to be around.

But it's weird.  I have an eighteen-year-old son and am about to have a newborn daughter.  Wrap your mind around that for a moment.

Yesterday our house was loaded with people who came for the baby shower.  It was energetic and... well... crowded.  Everyone was very nice and gracious.  Everyone was happy and supportive, and there were no problems.  But it was a social environment for which I was not prepared.

This is one of those posts in which I become exceptionally transparent.  You see, I've been in front of people all my life.  I've preached, taught, sung, and acted.  I have no trepidation, whatsoever, about being in front of hundreds or even thousands of people.  I've sung on television.  The largest live audience in front of whom I've sung was around fourteen thousand.  No problem.

But, put me in a room with a bunch of people with whom I have to personally interact, and I break out in a cold sweat.  It's not fear.  It's dread.  There's a difference.  I don't like it.  I do almost anything I can to avoid it.

It really has very little to do with the people in the group.  It's something inside me.

I'm a man of solitude.  I have to have it.  I always have.

When I lived in Alaska and I felt this way, I had a wonderful outlet.  I would take a day off and drive to Eklutna Lake (pictured below).  I would rent a kayak and spend the day paddling around the serene waters and feeling the breeze.  On one side I'd see a moose meandering among the trees and on the other a fox, or sometimes a bear.  An eagle would screech overhead and fish would periodically splash in the water.  I'd paddle for a few hours and pull in to rest along the shore (in the event that there weren't any random wild creatures nearby).

When I was there, I was at peace.  I could go all day and never see another person.  There were no power boats.  There were no electronic devices.  There was no need for interaction.  I could think, sing, pray, hope, and dream.

Since I moved to Missouri at the end of 2005, I have not experienced that.  Not once.  I've tried.  When I was working as the minister of music at Morrisville Assembly, I took a week and went to Table Rock Lake, outside of Branson.  I borrowed a canoe because they don't know what a real kayak is around here.  (A real kayak, not one of those stubby little plastic ones that bob around the rivers and creeks and creates so much drag in the water that you have to work exceptionally hard just to get it to move.  I'm talking about the long, sleek, smooth kayaks that glide nearly effortlessly and gracefully, leaving a long, narrow V-shaped ripple on the quiet water's surface.)  I found a campsite right at the edge of the water.  I got in late in the evening and set up the tent.  Then I cooked some food over the fire and bedded down for the night.

In the morning, I awoke to what sounded like the pit area at a NASCAR race.  When I walked to the water's edge, I saw why.  I was camped across a small lagoon from a major boat dock.  People were working on their boats, revving their engines, using power tools, yelling over the noise of the engines, and otherwise reveling in the freedom to desecrate the silence and create oil slicks.

I shrugged my shoulders and dragged the canoe into the water.  I boarded and began to paddle.  I was on the water about ten minutes and I'd only been sworn at by two power boat drivers as they blew past me.  Both had felt the necessity of circling around, creating a huge swell that nearly capsized me, and stopping to mock my motorless transportation.  Then the clouds rolled in and a Southwest Missouri thunderstorm began.

I paddled back to the shore, turned the canoe upside down and crawled into the tent where I spent the next four days stubbornly refusing to go home despite the weather and the incessant dripping of the water into the inside of the tent.

I've been camping a couple of times since then, but never in solitude.

In solitude is self-analysis.  In solitude is growth.  In solitude is learning.  In solitude is peace.  In solitude is healing.

It's not about being away from the people I love.  It's about being alone with God.  In solitude I can speak out loud to Him.  In solitude I can be transparent.  In solitude I can let my guard down.  In solitude I can be free.

On Being A Dad

I have two natural sons.  One born in 1994 and one in 1998.  These boys have grown into really impressive young men.  My oldest son has recently graduated high school.  He is preparing to leave for Air Force basic training where he'll begin a career serving our country.

My younger son is an accomplished drummer.  He's still in high school, where his people skills and personality are gaining him a lot of attention.  My sons are articulate, exceptionally smart, have great senses of humor, and are a lot of fun to be around.  I love these young men dearly.

My wife has a son who was born just before we started dating.  He is now five years old and he knows me as Daddy.  He's a talkative little guy whose dream is to be a superhero.  He says that his favorite superheroes are, in this order, the Incredible Hulk (because he has huge muscles), Jesus (because he's the strongest of them all), and me.  

My wife and I married last August.  She is a wonderful woman and a great mom.  She's done an amazing job with Tiegen, and we're very excited about the upcoming arrival of our daughter, Palin Nichole.  She should make her debut around November 13.

I recently got the opportunity to attend my oldest son's high school graduation.  It was the first time I'd seen Adam or Isaac in a very long time.  I'd like to be able to say that I had a major role in shaping these young men into the people they are today, but I can't.  I haven't been there for them as I should have.  Thinking of the time and distance between us tears my heart out.  I have longed for those boys every day since before they were born.  Being separated from them by an unpleasant divorce never altered that fact.  Anyone who is close to me knows that there are times when I would just withdraw into myself and sit in silence because I could think of nothing but my sons.  I'm so grateful for the opportunity to begin rebuilding the bridges that time and distance have eroded.  As I recently sat across a table from them in a restaurant, I see that these are fascinating young men who, even if I weren't their dad, I would want to get to know.  The depth of their thought processes and the warmth of their personalities move me.  There's a light inside them that draws people to them.

My high school reunion is this week, and I was asked to write a short autobiographical record of the past twenty-five years.  As I sat down at the computer and pondered where I've been and what I've done, the most vividly emotional moments were those spent with Adam, Isaac, and Tiegen.  Jobs I've had and places I've lived fade into nothingness next to the memories built with these three guys.  Going to a little northern Nevada county fair with Adam when he was very little, rolling down a grassy hill with Isaac in a park in Oregon, building a "fort" and a cannon for them in Alaska, and splashing in a little plastic pool with Tiegen on a hot summer day.  This is my highlight film.  I haven't always been the best dad.  I haven't been where I needed to be when I needed to be there.  But the love I have for my sons is beyond description.

In November, Palin Nichole Land will be born.  Once again I'll be blessed to carry one of my children with paternal pride and introduce her to the world.  Once again I'll get the joy of watching through new eyes of wonder as she discovers things we've long forgotten.  Once again I'll share the blessing of cuddling with my little one.  I long for that day, and fear it as well.

I don't deserve the blessings who call me Dad.  Adam, with his depth and compassion.  Isaac, with his humor and unnerving wisdom.  Tiegen, with his inquisitive mind and thoughtfulness.  And now, Palin, who won't call me anything for a while.  God has truly blessed me, and I am grateful beyond words.

"We Need To Teach Our Daughters..."

We've always heard that we live in a "male-dominated" society.  I suppose if you have an innate victim mentality that was, at one time, true.  Men held the highest paid jobs, and a hugely disparate percentage of the jobs in total.  Men had the purchasing power.  Men filled the governmental positions.

That was back in the early days of this country.  Largely, this started changing with World War I and World War II.  During those years, women were needed to fill the production positions left vacant by men who'd gone off to fight for their country.

Since then, women have slowly and steadily filled more and more positions in the workplace and in government.  In fact, some of the most powerful roles in our government are filled by women.  This is a day in which a woman who wants to achieve great things has all the opportunity she needs to do so.  We have a female Secretary of State, a female Surgeon General, Homeland Security Secretay, ninety Congressional posts, and the numbers are growing all the time.  Disparities in wages are often caused by faulty statistical schemes.  For example:  most surveys that claim a disparity in male/female incomes do not take into consideration maternity leave, the increased number of days off that women take as opposed to men, and so on.  

The fact is, we are all different.  We must be careful when we speak in generalities.  

One thing is obvious to the observant person:  over the past few decades, there has been a concerted effort in the media and in society to undermine masculinity in American society.  In almost every family portrayed in television or movies, the man is portrayed as clueless or tyrannical, or both.  The woman is always portrayed as the one with the common sense and intelligence.  Men are either the comical characters whose oafish blunders make us laugh uproariously at their expense, or as the morally depraved deviants whose inner corruption is rarely far from surfacing and destroying the poor female victim.

Don't take my word for it.  Look at what you watch and read with open eyes.  Pay attention to what you're putting into your mind.

It has seeped into every part of our lives.  Read your Facebook news feed.  Watch how many women post things like "We Need To Teach Our Daughters..." or "A Real Man..."

How often do you read "A Real Woman..." ?  

When I moved to Missouri, the church my mother attended had an adult Sunday School class for people my age.  They were running a series of videos by a famed Christian author whose specialty seems to be in relationship counseling.  Throughout that series, I observed something that had disturbed me for several years prior to that.  Whenever the speaker addressed the men, he instructed them to change their approach to make room for the more emotional way many women interpret the world.  When he addressed the women, he instructed them to "understand that men just don't get it."

We now live in a time in which it's almost considered a bad thing to be masculine.  The church is one of the biggest offenders, too.  The church today is raising a generation of males who don't know what true masculinity is.  We see more and more who are so detached from their own gender that they even physically manifest signs of effeminacy.  It's an interesting and disturbing phenomenon.  They are not self-sufficient, strong, or effective leaders.  They cower to the politically correct rather than standing with a rigid spine in the face of popular opposition.  In my mind, it's vivid evidence of the emasculation of the Christian man.  (Read Wild at Heart, by John Eldredge for a much more skillful exposition on this subject.)

We also live in a time in which it's politically correct, and even applauded, when women make blanket statements about the cluelessness, ineptitude, lack of moral character, and spinelessness of men.  Yet, if a man were to say anything negative about a woman, he is branded a sexist.  The pendulum has swung so far that it's considered socially acceptable to hold up a man to public ridicule based upon his gender.  And it's become a part of the fabric of daily communication, to the point that it's unnoticeable unless one listens with new ears.

I'm writing to try to give you new ears.

Posts like the very popular "We Need To Teach Our Daughters..." make negative assumptions about men in general.  Posts like "A Real Man..." does or doesn't do certain things are a backhanded insult against men in general because they only address half of the equation.  We rarely see posts instructing women to be ladies.  We rarely hear teachers or preachers applauding true femininity instead of feminism.  We regularly hear messages instructing men to adjust to women, but rarely the opposite.  These messages criticize men for their less emotional approach to life, their lack of verbal communication and their tendency to spend too much time and effort on their careers.  We rarely hear sermons on how women can follow a truly scriptural approach to femininity.  We rarely hear a sermon that tells a woman to "suck it up and think logically" or to "stop talking so much."  

One problem is that these flawed sermons are often preached by men.  These men seem so afraid of being labeled as a sexist that they feel the need to apologize for their gender rather than educate women on how to adequately interact with men.  Just a clue, pastors, men are not the only ones who need to adjust their approach to the opposite sex.  

This morning, in the wake of the Aurora, Colorado shooting, I read an article that sparked a thought I wanted to share.  The article spoke of three young men who sacrificed their lives by shielding their girlfriends from the gunfire.  These men selflessly placed themselves between the attacker and their loved-ones.  Each one of them saved a woman.  Each one of them died in the process.  These are heroes.  These are valiant men.  These men deserve to be remembered.  These men demonstrated manhood.

What if we shifted our approach a bit?  What if, instead of focusing on the negatives that some men display, we focused on things like heroism, faithfulness, honor and integrity?  What if, instead of saying we need to teach our daughters to act like spoiled princesses in a world in which men exist only to meet her needs and make her happy, we taught our daughters to prove themselves worthy of a man such as these three men?  What if we teach  men how to be men and women how to be women?  What if we taught men to be gentlemen and women to be ladies?  You know, those archaic terms that have all but lost all meaning?

How about teaching your daughters how to be the best they can be?  Teach them the biblical definition of womanhood.  Teach your sons the biblical description of manhood.  You know, man and woman were created to complement one another, not compete against each other.  We were created as parts of a puzzle that becomes complete when we marry.  Stop teaching your little girl to dress like an eight year old prostitute who is so desperate for male attention that she'll lower herself to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Stop teaching your daughter that she's the most important person on the planet and that she deserves a man who will bow to her and give her everything that she wants.  Teach her that true love is self-sacrificing.

Teach your children, male and female, how to love sacrificially.

Teach your boys how to treat a lady.

Teach your daughter how to be worthy of that treatment.