“Cowboys don’t cry.” Growing up in a small town in Africa, this was the understanding that was pounded into us as boys. We were never allowed to cry.
“Suck it up and be strong.”
Play rugby and hunt and do all the manly things. Sit around the campfires and listen to the men talk. This was the place to be growing up.
You never learn how to be sensitive, and any sign of weakness is dealt with by shaming you for not being a man.
How could I know how to be a man when I was still a boy in my body and my heart?
Then came the teenage years. Being a man meant you did the same things grown men did. Smoke and drink. Thank God that growing up in a rural town in Africa we were not exposed to drugs and sex and television. We did what we thought would make us look like grown men.
However, there was a hunger for a real connection with someone that could be an example of what it meant to be a real man.
Next was the army. It was required of all boys to do two years of military service. You could apply whether you wanted to go to the navy, the air force or the infantry. The first two was for those that didn’t want to see battle or at least a minimal amount of it. I choose the infantry. Nine months of training and fifteen months to war.
I prided myself in the fact that I chose to do the harder thing.
While there I saw men. Grown men and men that were exposed to something they have never seen or experienced. We grew up quickly, and stood our ground. After two years I came back feeling all out of place.
I was a man with experience in doing things my way. That does not always align with what is going on in society.
I was a man out of place.
I went to seminary to become a pastor, and being confronted with men of a different stature was difficult. There I met men that were willing to sacrifice.
Leadership was defined by the way you served, and not just by the way you lead.
These men were laying down their lives for the sake of the Gospel. Some would sacrifice their finances for the call of God, choosing to go to the mission field and serve the poor. I found what I was looking for all those years. These men were strong in their faith and sacrificial in their commitment.
I started to observe and learn.
On one occasion, one of these men called me over and confronted me with what he saw in me as a struggle. Growing up in a strong Pentecostal church, I measured my walk with God through the way I acted.
If I did something right, God and I were okay. If I did something wrong, I would be at the altar repenting just to go and do it again. I worked so hard, and kept failing. This “father” called me over and asked me a simple question.
Why are you serving God?
My conclusion was simple and without thinking much I replied, “Because I want to go to heaven and not to hell.” His response was soft and it shattered my understanding. “What about just loving Him?”
I discovered that I could serve God because I can love Him as He loves me.
This changed my life. All condemnation left, and conviction settled in. He loves me. This is why these men give what they gave. They loved Him.
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Photo via Deon Vanstaden
