Welcome Back Duke!!?? (A Retrospective)

by Peggy Noonan, WSJ (10.12.01)

[ Peggy Noonan wrote this article over fifteen years ago. Its still powerful and poignant but do you think her hope that real men were back when the men of 9/11 rose up against evil and unselfishly, heroically rescued people. Re-read her comments and see if we've forged ahead or shrunk back from authentic manhood. Is the Duke back or is he still dead?]

A few weeks ago I wrote a column called "God Is Back," about how, within a day of the events of Sept. 11, my city was awash in religious imagery--prayer cards, statues of saints. It all culminated, in a way, in the discovery of the steel-girder cross that emerged last week from the wreckage--unbent, unbroken, unmelted, perfectly proportioned and duly blessed by a Catholic friar on the request of the rescue workers, who seemed to see meaning in the cross's existence. So do I.My son, a teenager, finds this hilarious, as does one of my best friends. They have teased me, to my delight, but I have told them, "Boys, this whole story is about good and evil, about the clash of good and evil." If you are of a certain cast of mind, it is of course meaningful that the face of the Evil One seemed to emerge with a roar from the furnace that was Tower One.

You have seen the Associated Press photo, and the photos that followed: the evil face roared out of the building with an ugly howl--and then in a snap of the fingers it lost form and force and disappeared. If you are of a certain cast of mind it is of course meaningful that the cross, which to those of its faith is imperishable, did not disappear. It was not crushed by the millions of tons of concrete that crashed down upon it, did not melt in the furnace. It rose from the rubble, still there, intact.

For the ignorant, the superstitious and me (and maybe you), the face of the Evil One was revealed, and died; for the ignorant, the superstitious and me (and maybe you), the cross survived. This is how God speaks to us. He is saying, "I am." He is saying, "I am here." He is saying, "And the force of all the evil of all the world will not bury me."I believe this quite literally. But then I am experiencing Sept. 11 not as a political event but as a spiritual event.

And, of course, a cultural one, which gets me to my topic.

It is not only that God is back, but that men are back. A certain style of manliness is once again being honored and celebrated in our country since Sept. 11. You might say it suddenly emerged from the rubble of the past quarter century, and emerged when a certain kind of man came forth to get our great country out of the fix it was in.

I am speaking of masculine men, men who push things and pull things and haul things and build things, men who charge up the stairs in a hundred pounds of gear and tell everyone else where to go to be safe. Men who are welders, who do construction, men who are cops and firemen. They are all of them, one way or another, the men who put the fire out, the men who are digging the rubble out, and the men who will build whatever takes its place.

And their style is back in style. We are experiencing a new respect for their old-fashioned masculinity, a new respect for physical courage, for strength and for the willingness to use both for the good of others.

You didn't have to be a fireman to be one of the manly men of Sept. 11. Those businessmen on flight 93, which was supposed to hit Washington, the businessmen who didn't live by their hands or their backs but who found out what was happening to their country, said goodbye to the people they loved, snapped the cell phone shut and said, "Let's roll." Those were tough men, the ones who forced that plane down in Pennsylvania. They were tough, brave guys.

Let me tell you when I first realized what I'm saying. On Friday, Sept. 14, I went with friends down to the staging area on the West Side Highway where all the trucks filled with guys coming off a 12-hour shift at ground zero would pass by. They were tough, rough men, the grunts of the city--construction workers and electrical workers and cops and emergency medical worker and firemen.

I joined a group that was just standing there as the truck convoys went by. And all we did was cheer. We all wanted to do some kind of volunteer work but there was nothing left to do, so we stood and cheered those who were doing. The trucks would go by and we'd cheer and wave and shout "God bless you!" and "We love you!" We waved flags and signs, clapped and threw kisses, and we meant it: We loved these men. And as the workers would go by--they would wave to us from their trucks and buses, and smile and nod--I realized that a lot of them were men who hadn't been applauded since the day they danced to their song with their bride at the wedding.

And suddenly I looked around me at all of us who were cheering. And saw who we were. Investment bankers! Orthodontists! Magazine editors! In my group, a lawyer, a columnist and a writer. We had been the kings and queens of the city, respected professional in a city that respects its professional class. And this night we were nobody. We were so useless, all we could do was applaud the somebodies, the workers who, unlike us, had not been applauded much in their lives.

And now they were saving our city.

I turned to my friend and said, "I have seen the grunts of New York become kings and queens of the City." I was so moved and, oddly I guess, grateful. Because they'd always been the people who ran the place, who kept it going, they'd just never been given their due. But now--"And the last shall be first"--we were making up for it.

It may seem that I am really talking about class--the professional classes have a new appreciation for the working class men of Lodi, N.J., or Astoria, Queens. But what I'm attempting to talk about is actual manliness, which often seems tied up with class issues, as they say, but isn't always by any means the same thing.

Here's what I'm trying to say: Once about 10 years ago there was a story--you might have read it in your local tabloid, or a supermarket tabloid like the National Enquirer--about an American man and woman who were on their honeymoon in Australia or New Zealand. They were swimming in the ocean, the water chest-high. From nowhere came a shark. The shark went straight for the woman, opened its jaws. Do you know what the man did?

He punched the shark in the head. He punched it and punched it again. He did not do brilliant commentary on the shark, he did not share his sensitive feelings about the shark, he did not make wry observations about the shark, he punched the shark in the head. So the shark let go of his wife and went straight for him. And it killed him. The wife survived to tell the story of what her husband had done. He had tried to deck the shark. I told my friends: That's what a wonderful man is, a man who will try to deck the shark.I don't know what the guy did for a living, but he had a very old-fashioned sense of what it is to be a man, and I think that sense is coming back into style because of who saved us on Sept. 11, and that is very good for our country.

Why? Well, manliness wins wars. Strength and guts plus brains and spirit wins wars. But also, you know what follows manliness? The gentleman. The return of manliness will bring a return of gentlemanliness, for a simple reason: masculine men are almost by definition gentlemen. Example: If you're a woman and you go to a faculty meeting at an Ivy League University you'll have to fight with a male intellectual for a chair, but I assure you that if you go to a Knights of Columbus Hall, the men inside (cops, firemen, insurance agents) will rise to offer you a seat. Because they are manly men, and gentlemen.

It is hard to be a man. I am certain of it; to be a man in this world is not easy. I know you are thinking, But it's not easy to be a woman, and you are so right. But women get to complain and make others feel bad about their plight. Men have to suck it up. Good men suck it up and remain good-natured, constructive and helpful; less-good men become the kind of men who are spoofed on "The Man Show"--babe-watching, dope-smoking nihilists. (Nihilism is not manly, it is the last refuge of sissies.)

I should discuss how manliness and its brother, gentlemanliness, went out of style. I know, because I was there. In fact, I may have done it. I remember exactly when: It was in the mid-'70s, and I was in my mid-20s, and a big, nice, middle-aged man got up from his seat to help me haul a big piece of luggage into the overhead luggage space on a plane. I was a feminist, and knew our rules and rants. "I can do it myself," I snapped.

It was important that he know women are strong. It was even more important, it turns out, that I know I was a jackass, but I didn't. I embarrassed a nice man who was attempting to help a lady. I wasn't lady enough to let him. I bet he never offered to help a lady again. I bet he became an intellectual, or a writer, and not a good man like a fireman or a businessman who says, "Let's roll."

But perhaps it wasn't just me. I was there in America, as a child, when John Wayne was a hero, and a symbol of American manliness. He was strong, and silent. And I was there in America when they killed John Wayne by a thousand cuts. A lot of people killed him--not only feminists but peaceniks, leftists, intellectuals, others. You could even say it was Woody Allen who did it, through laughter and an endearing admission of his own nervousness and fear. He made nervousness and fearfulness the admired style. He made not being able to deck the shark, but doing the funniest commentary on not decking the shark, seem . . . cool.

But when we killed John Wayne, you know who we were left with. We were left with John Wayne's friendly-antagonist sidekick in the old John Ford movies, Barry Fitzgerald. The small, nervous, gossiping neighborhood commentator Barry Fitzgerald, who wanted to talk about everything and do nothing.

This was not progress. It was not improvement.

I missed John Wayne.

But now I think . . . he's back. I think he returned on Sept. 11. I think he ran up the stairs, threw the kid over his back like a sack of potatoes, came back down and shoveled rubble. I think he's in Afghanistan now, saying, with his slow swagger and simmering silence, "Yer in a whole lotta trouble now, Osama-boy."

I think he's back in style. And none too soon.

Welcome back, Duke.

And once again: Thank you, men of Sept. 11.

Ms. Noonan is a contributing editor of The Wall Street Journal. Her new book, "When Character Was King: A Story of Ronald Reagan," will be published by Viking Penguin this fall. Her column appears Fridays.

The Soul of Steve Jobs

Soon after the death of Apple's co-founder, Steve Jobs, I read Walter Isaacson's newly released biography, Steve Jobs. Once started, I found it difficult to stop reading (on my iPad) about this complicated man, and I regretted reaching the last page.

Whether one liked or disliked Steve Jobs, he is certainly one of the most talked-about leaders of our time. In his 56-year life, he founded and ultimately led a business organization to a commanding position in the world of technology. He assembled and led teams that produced some of the most admired technological products of our time: Mac Books, iPods, iPhones, iPads. Whole industries came into being because of him.

But Steve Jobs also had many critics. "He mistreated people." "He was ruthless in his business dealings." "He was vindictive." "He lacked compassion." And that's just the light stuff.

As I read about Steve Jobs, I dared to imagine a conversation with him in his office at Apple. A fantasy, of course, but a trigger for some sober thought.”

We all know that Steve Jobs was not a professing Christian. While he respected Jesus, he walked away from Christianity at an early age—at least in its organized and doctrinal form.

So why write about him in a Christian journal? Answer: because his life yields valuable lessons, positive and negative, on the subject of leadership. It also highlights areas that Christian leaders can enlist to touch the souls of people like him.

Early Influences

The Steve Jobs biography reminded me of how many leaders are shaped by events in their earliest years (even days) of life.

Jobs, for example, was born to an unmarried couple who chose to give him up for adoption. The good news? The newborn child came to the home of a working class couple, Paul and Clara Jobs of San Francisco, who lavished great love and care on him.

Paul Jobs, Steve's adoptive father, was a Coast Guard veteran, a man of exceptional mechanical and carpentry skill. When Steve was old enough, father and son began to tinker with cars, build furniture, and repair things about the house. "I wasn't into fixing cars," Steve Jobs said years later, "but I was eager to hang out with my dad."

In their time together, the father planted a powerful work ethic in his son. All work, Steve Jobs learned, was to be marked with excellence. When father and son painted a fence together, for example, the boy learned that the unexposed side was to be treated with the same thoroughness as the visible side.

"(My father) loved doing things right," Jobs reflected. "He even cared about the look of the parts you couldn't see." Decades later this principle learned in boyhood would shape the development of Apple devices. Jobs always insisted that the inner parts of anything bearing the Apple name be as perfectly designed and built as the outer parts, even though a customer would never see them.
(Note: you never see a screw or latch that permits you to open up and tinker with an iPod or an iPad. Jobs didn't want you or me "screwing up" his stuff. A control freak? You betcha.)

But then there's the perceived rejection of his biological parents. That's the bad-news side of the story. What's it like to know that your mother put you into the arms of someone else and walked away? This appears to have haunted Jobs all his life and may partially explain his shortfalls in many human relationships.

When Jobs began school, his parents and teachers soon discovered that he was a "problem child." It showed in his rebelliousness, in his boredom with the curriculum, in his unwillingness to fit into ordinary classroom regimens. He resisted learning in the traditional cookie-cutter ways.

It's startling to realize that Steve Jobs might have ended up a social discard—a delinquent—had it not been for an observant teacher who suspected that she had an exceptional child in her classroom. Under her guidance Jobs quickly accelerated in his learning experiences. "I just wanted to learn and to please her," Jobs said, looking back on her efforts.

Unfortunately the same did not happen in his church experience. When Jobs was 13, he asked his pastor a simple (yet not so simple) question.

Isaacson writes: "In July 1968 Life magazine published a shocking cover showing a pair of starving children in Biafra. Jobs took it to Sunday school and confronted the church's pastor, 'If I raise my finger, will God know which one I'm going to raise even before I do it?'

"The pastor answers, 'Yes, God knows everything.”

Jobs then pulled out the Life cover and asked, 'Well, does God know about this and what's going to happen to those children?'

"'Steve, I know you don't understand, but yes, God knows about that.'"

The pastor's answer badly underestimated the young teen's intellect and left him unsatisfied. According to Isaacson, Jobs walked away from the church that day and never returned.

For the pastor, that brief exchange was likely incidental and forgettable. Yet it was a turning point that would point Steve Jobs toward eastern philosophy.

The story generates a prayer in me: "Lord, make me aware of the implications of any (any!) word I say to people during the course of the day. Who can know when a spoken word directs someone toward the right path … or the wrong one?"

So you have these primary sources of formation in this boy's life: a birth mother, a loving father, a caring teacher, and an imperceptive pastor. Discuss!

Partnership

If one is into technology (and I confess an attraction), Isaacson's record of Steve Jobs college and twenty-something years becomes intriguing. During that time Jobs came alive to the world of electronics, drugs, literature, and a host of other experiences. But among the most important events of that period was his introduction to Stephen Wozniak, who would become his partner in the founding of Apple.

While other boys played ball, Jobs and Wozniak built their first computer in the garage of the Jobs's home. Theirs was a powerful synergy of skills: Wozniak's grasp of the inner workings of a computer and Jobs's instinct for its design and utility.

The birth of Apple Computer came in the years that followed, and the two men attracted a host of brilliant youngish people to join them in developing the company.

I'm most interested in the contrasts between the two men. Wozniak was shy, embarrassed by public recognition, obsessive about facts and truthfulness. Jobs, on the other hand, was brash, ambitious, and controlling.

Isaacson writes: "Wozniak would be the gentle wizard coming up with a neat invention that he would have been happy to just give away, and Jobs would figure out how to make it user-friendly, put it together in a package, market it, and make a few bucks."

The Wozniak-Jobs partnership will be the subject of more than one dissertation or book in years to come. It could make for a rich conversation today: how do partnerships begin, and how are they nurtured? And what's the nature of a relationship with God?

Crash

Years later Steve Jobs hit a kind of bottom. To simplify a very complex story: Jobs was a man with limited people skills. In his haste to fulfill his visions, he could be intimidating, obnoxious, intolerant, impatient, profane, and offensive.

As often happens, the people at Apple mostly adjusted to Steve Jobs's way because, in spite of his volatile personality, he caused highly talented and motivated people to achieve things beyond their own wildest expectations. If one was tough enough to accept the abuse involved in working for and with Steve Jobs, the success in terms of wealth, fame, and professional satisfaction was enormous.

But one day the board of Apple reached a point of intolerable frustration with Jobs. At the age of 30, Steve Jobs found himself out of a job. He once again experienced the echoes of rejection, abandonment—but this time at the age of 30. The man who'd often abandoned others was himself abandoned.

Those had to be moments of massive humiliation and self-searching. Was anything to be learned? While Jobs may have been able to identify his failures in executive leadership, I doubt if he ever looked inside himself to seek the root of the many faults and flaws that often made working with him an intolerable experience.

"The one question I'd truly love Steve to answer is 'Why are you sometimes so mean?'" one colleague told Isaacson. When Isaacson posed the question to Jobs, he said, "This is who I am, and you can't expect me to be someone I'm not." That was it. Case closed.

When Steve founded a second company (NeXT), the products it introduced to the market, while innovative, were not entirely profitable. Jobs's place in business might have been scuttled. He was just inches from spending the rest of his life as a nobody. But this period of failure in Steve Jobs's life counted for something. "The best thing ever to happen to Steve is when we fired him, told him to get lost," an Apple board member said.

Isaacson comments: "The theory, shared by many, is that the tough love made him wiser and more mature. But it's not that simple. At the company he founded after being ousted from Apple, Jobs was able to indulge all of his instincts, both good and bad. He was unbounded. The result was a series of spectacular products that were dazzling market flops. This was the true learning experience."

Sometime later the board of Apple, also facing great stress, invited Jobs back into the company. It's a convoluted, rather strange story, but the reinstatement turned out to be a new day for him and for Apple.

When appropriate, I like to ask leaders if there was ever a time when they felt truly broken, stripped of self-confidence, and finally willing to seriously listen to someone other than themselves? Often, they nod their heads. Yes, there was such a time, most say. And yes, they finally learned to listen.

One thinks of Joseph's days as a slave, Moses's years in the desert, Peter's hours weeping in a dark valley. Defining moments, those.

Did Steve Jobs have such a defining moment? Was he ever truly humbled? The jury, Isaacson might say, is hung on that one.

Truth

Those who worked around Steve Jobs spoke, and sometimes joked, about his reality distortion field, a term borrowed from the Star Trek TV series. Isaacson quotes long-term Jobs co-worker, Andy Hertzfeld, "(Jobs's) reality distortion field was a confounding mélange of a charismatic rhetorical style, indomitable will, and eagerness to bend any fact to fit the purpose at hand" (italics mine).

In a few words, Hertzfeld was saying that Steve Jobs often tried to talk things into existence. Plainly put: Jobs could lie, make unkeepable promises, and reframe facts. He knew few limits in trying to get people to see things his way. He not only convinced others but also himself. You could say that the man often drank his own Kool-Aid.

"At the root of the reality distortion was Jobs's belief that the rules didn't apply to him," Isaacson writes. "Rebelliousness and willfulness were ingrained in his character. He had the sense that he was special, a chosen one, an enlightened one."

In the Steve Jobs world, the casualty rate in such a Darwinian atmosphere was great. But—and here is the conundrum—the work usually got done, the objectives were achieved, the products shipped. More often than not, people delivered the impossible that Jobs demanded. Call it a task-driven leadership. But it wasn't a place where people with values ascended. Only the toughest survived.

It's not difficult to see this pattern in a larger-than-life man like Steve Jobs and to harshly criticize it. What is more challenging is seeing that this same tendency lies latent in the hearts of most leaders—Christians included. A great goal, a strong passion, a consuming need: they are the stuff of self-justification when a leader comes to believe that something must be achieved for the noblest of reasons. It is the temptation of the preacher who, in seeking to persuade, enhances or diminishes the truth to make his point. It is the temptation of any organizational leader when additional money must be raised to keep the cause afloat.

How do we accomplish the task but do so with integrity? File that away for a future staff retreat. Or thoughtful conversation.

Useful and Beautiful

When I obtained my first iPad, it came in a box that reminded me of rich European chocolates. The iPad inside was wrapped in a clear film. When I lifted the iPad from the box, my first instinct was to hold it reverently in my hands as I might a piece of art. Everything about it—its appearance, its feel, its solidity—evoked a kind of awe.

When its screen lit up and I acquainted myself with the many things the iPad could do, I was dazzled—just as Steve Jobs had willed it to be.

My reaction to my iPad was first imagined in the Apple labs where Jobs and his people spent thousands of hours building something that was not only easy to use but marvelous to look at. It was art and technology brought together in one elegant package.

Apple products are known for their simplicity in both design and utility. Perhaps this was inspired by Jobs's attraction to Japanese Zen Buddhism. In this frame of reference, simplicity, wholeness, integrity, freedom from numbing complexity all reflect a sense of calmness.

For Steve Jobs great products were to be technologically exceptional, and they were to be equally beautiful. When I got my iPad, I found that I wanted to tell everyone about it. No one had to train me, motivate me, or threaten me with guilt. It was natural to rave about something that worked and was beautiful at the same time.

Like the gospel of Jesus.

I've worried over these words because I fear that some will conclude that I am betraying my own loyalty to Jesus when I acknowledge that something good can arise from an alternative philosophical orientation. But to pretend not to notice that Jobs may have found some of his inspiration from another source is to be dishonest.

I would rather ask if a genuine Christianity should not have provided a similar inspiration. Was not Jesus the epitome of simplicity, of beauty, of wholeness? Was not the intended result of his gospel in the life of the believer meant to be (forgive this ludicrous comparison) as impressive as an iPad 2?

(Note to those who choke on being compared to an iPad. Paul compared the flourishing Christian to a pot made of gold or silver. Alive today, he might have also resorted to using an iPad.)

Dying

When Steve Jobs discovered that he had cancer, typically he tried to manage his own healing process. There were some bad decisions that frustrated his doctors. But there were also good choices that apparently advanced the process of seeking a cure for cancer. But in the end, he lost this last battle and died.

"I am about fifty-fifty on believing in God," he told Isaacson not long before he died. "For most of my life, I've felt that there must be more to our existence than meets the eye …. I'd like to think that something survives after you die. It's strange to think that you accumulate all this experience, and maybe a little wisdom, and it just goes away. So I really want to believe that something survives, that maybe your

consciousness endures. But on the other hand, perhaps it's like an on-off switch. Click! And you're gone. Maybe that's why I never like to put on-off switches on Apple devices."

Once in a commencement address at Stanford, Jobs told graduates that death may be life's greatest gift in that a true respect for death might force one to give his/her best in every waking day.

"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life," he said. "Because almost everything—all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure—these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important."

As I read this biography of Jobs, I wanted to see how a man dealt with his own brokenness and defects. I wanted to see what the good and the bad looked like in organizational leadership. I wanted to learn what's possible when someone—whatever the reason—reaches for their notion of the best. Isaacson helped me to do that.

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Author: Gordon MacDonald is chancellor of Denver Seminary Denver and editor-at-large for Leadership Journal. He is author of numerous books, including Going Deep: Becoming A Person of Influence

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Why It's Impossible for Worldly Success to Satisfy

by Patrick Morley

Worldly success has eluded a Christian friend of mine for his entire life. What's ironic to me is that he is as depressed that he didn't achieve worldly success as I was when I did. Two opposite circumstantial results--same depressive outcome.
There is no sin in worldly success, per se. But because worldly success is such a seductive idol, God in His wisdom has made it impossible for worldly success to satisfy--either by withholding it, removing it, or giving you so much that you gag on it.

The problem is that if you or I could find satisfaction in worldly success apart from God, we would. So to protect us from our own sinful natures, God in His grace frustrates our ambitions when they would destroy us.
And it's not really worldly success we want anyway, but the security, contentment, peace, and joy we think it will give us. By giving--or not giving--us worldly success, our Jealous God is teaching us to be satisfied in Him alone. Enjoy nice things if and when you can, but He is our security, contentment, peace, and joy.

Jesus Is Not Safe but He Is Good

by Perry Noble

In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Susan and Lucy ask Mr. and Mrs. Beaver to tell them about Aslan, the lion in the story who is the Christ-figure. They ask if Aslan is a man, and Mr. Beaver replies:

Aslan a man? Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the woods and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.”

“Ooh!” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie, and make no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver, “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

That conversation is loaded. Please get the last line. He’s good, he’s the King, but he isn’t safe.

The wrong picture

We’ve done a pretty bad job at trying to paint a picture of Jesus in today’s society that is safe. His hair is always perfect. Did they really have product back then? His teeth have obviously been either whitened or capped. His robe never has any wrinkles and is always the whitest of whites. I guess the dust and dirt in Israel simply refused to stick to his clothes. And he never becomes irritated, upset, or does anything that might offend anyone, despite what we read in Matthew 12:1-4, Luke 4:28-30, Luke 11:45-54, Matthew 23 and John 2:13-17 (just to name a few!).

Make no mistake about it. He is good, but he is not safe! Following Jesus doesn’t ever lead to a safe, comfortable, and predictable life. How in the world could we ever expect the guy who said what he did in Luke 9:23 to ever lead us towards safety?

Take up your cross

Jesus didn’t say that if we wanted to follow him, we needed to take up our mattress, but rather take up our cross! If you are going to follow Jesus:

You are going to upset some people (Matthew 10:34-36)

He will bring out changes in you (Luke 19:1-10). We cannot meet him and stay the same!

He is going to challenge you to look straight ahead and not behind, no matter how good or bad it may have been (Luke 9:62).

You are going to have to lay some things aside (Mark 1:18).

He will impact every area of your life (Romans 12:1), and you cannot pick and choose your areas of surrender when you are abiding in him.

You are going to hear his voice clearly and accurately (John 10:4).

You are going to experience abundant life, and your life will not be wasted (John 10:10).

You are going to have to stop messing around—literally (1 Corinthians 6:18-20). In fact, following Jesus may make your dating life seem quite “boring” to others.

You are going to have to surrender your wallet (Matthew 6:19-24, Luke 16:10-13).

It is going to take a willingness to change the way you think (Romans 12:1-2).

It is going to move your heart to care about and reach out to people that he deeply cares for (Matthew 28:18-20). I cannot say I am a follower of Christ and be unconcerned with the things that concern him.

God is good

Sanctification is not always a pretty process and following Christ isn’t always the easy or safe thing, but it is always the right thing. With all of this in mind, do not forget that Jesus is good that's the comfort in all this.

Scripture talks over and over again about the goodness of God. When I do not understand, agree with, or even see what he is doing, I can know that Romans 8:28 is true. God is good and he works for the good of those who love him.

So what will you do today? Play it safe or follow Christ?

 

Let's Give Chivalry Another Chance

by Emily Esfahanifrom The Atlantic 12.11.12

It's been unfairly maligned as sexist, but women and men alike would benefit from bringing it back.

This past spring marked the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. On April 14, 1912, as the ship was on its maiden journey from Southampton, UK, to New York City, it hit an iceberg in the North Atlantic. About three hours later, it sank. Three-quarters of the women on the ship survived; over three quarters of the men, by contrast, died. In Washington DC, there is a memorial to these men. The inscription on it reads: "To the brave men who perished in the wreck of the Titanic...They gave their lives that women and children might be saved."

About a year ago, a group of today's men were tested the way that the men on board the Titanic were. When the cruise ship Costa Concordia hit a rock and capsized off the coast of Isola del Giglio, Tuscany, last January, men pushed women and children out of the way to save themselves. One Australian woman on board reported at the time:

The people that pushed their way on to the boat were then trying to tell them to shut the door, not to let any more people on the [life] boat after they had pushed their way on...We just couldn't believe it—especially the men, they were worse than the women.

This contrast is indicative of a larger trend—the decline of chivalry and the rise of boorish behavior among men. According to a 2010 Harris poll, 80 percent of Americans say that women are treated with less chivalry today than in the past. This is a problem that all women—especially feminists—should push back against.

After the women's liberation movement of the 1960s, which insisted on the equal treatment of women in all domains of life, feminists dismissed chivalry as sexist. They still do. A new study, published in the feminist journal Psychology of Women Quarterly, questions the entire enterprise of male chivalry, which, in an Orwellian flourish, it calls "benevolent sexism."

Chivalrous behavior is benevolent because it flatters women and leads to their preferential treatment. But it is sexist because it relies on the "gendered premise" that women are weak and in need of protection while men are strong. "Benevolent sexism," Kathleen Connelly and Martin Heesacker of the University of Florida write in the study, "is an ideology that perpetuates gender inequality." They advocate interventions to reduce its prevalence, even though, they found, chivalry is associated with greater life satisfaction and the sense that the world is fair, well-ordered, and a good place.

Charles Murray, the libertarian social scientist at the American Enterprise Institute, summed up the study with tongue-in-cheek, writing "the bad news is that gentlemanly behavior makes people happy." He goes on to ask, "When social scientists discover something that increases life satisfaction for both sexes, shouldn't they at least consider the possibility that they have come across something that is positive? Healthy? Something that might even conceivably be grounded in the nature of Homo sapiens?"

In an interview, Connelly tells me that despite Murray's points, the problem with chivalry is that it assumes "women are wonderful but weak." This assumption of female weakness puts women down, Connelly says.

Perhaps because of women's ambivalence about chivalry, men have grown confused about how to treat women. Will holding doors open for them or paying for the first date be interpreted as sexist? Does carrying their groceries imply they're weak? The breakdown in the old rules, which at one extreme has given rise to the hookup culture, has killed dating and is leaving a lot of well-meaning men and women at a loss.

Historically, the chivalry ideal and the practices that it gave rise to were never about putting women down, as Connelly and other feminists argue. Chivalry, as a social idea, was about respecting and aggrandizing women, and recognizing that their attention was worth seeking, competing for, and holding. If there is a victim of "benevolent sexism," it is not the career-oriented single college-aged feminist. Rather, it is unconstrained masculinity.

"We should have a clear notion of what chivalry is," argues Pier Massimo Forni, an award-winning professor of Italian literature and the founder of the Civility Institute at Johns Hopkins. "It was a form of preferential treatment that men once accorded to women generations ago, inspired by the sense that there was something special about women, that they deserve added respect, and that not doing so was uncouth, cowardly and essentially despicable."

Chivalry arose as a response to the violence and barbarism of the Middle Ages. It cautioned men to temper their aggression, deploying it only in appropriate circumstances—like to protect the physically weak and defenseless members of society. As the author and self-described "equity feminist" Christina Hoff Sommers tells me in an interview, "Masculinity with morality and civility is a very powerful force for good. But masculinity without these virtues is dangerous—even lethal."

Chivalry is grounded in a fundamental reality that defines the relationship between the sexes, she explains. Given that most men are physically stronger than most women, men can overpower women at any time to get what they want. Gentlemen developed symbolic practices to communicate to women that they would not inflict harm upon them and would even protect them against harm. The tacit assumption that men would risk their lives to protect women only underscores how valued women are—how elevated their status is—under the system of chivalry.

A story from the life of Samuel Proctor (d. 1997) comes to mind here. Proctor was the beloved pastor of Harlem's Abyssinian Baptist Church. Apparently, he was in the elevator one day when a young woman came in. Proctor tipped his hat at her. She was offended and said, "What is that supposed to mean?"

The pastor's response was: "Madame, by tipping my hat I was telling you several things. That I would not harm you in any way. That if someone came into this elevator and threatened you, I would defend you. That if you fell ill, I would tend to you and if necessary carry you to safety. I was telling you that even though I am a man and physically stronger than you, I will treat you with both respect and solicitude. But frankly, Madame, it would have taken too much time to tell you all of that; so, instead, I just tipped my hat."

Some women are trying to bring back chivalry. Since 2009, for instance, a group of women at Arizona State University have devoted themselves to resuscitating gentlemanly behavior and chivalry on a campus whose social life is overwhelmingly defined by partying, frat life, and casual sex. Every spring for the past three years, these women have gathered for the "Gentlemen's Showcase" to honor men who have acted chivalrously by, for example, opening the door for a woman or digging a woman's car out of several feet of snow.

The event has spread to campuses nationwide. Its goal is "to encourage mutual respect between the sexes," Karin Agness tells me in an interview. Agness is the founder and president of the Network of Enlightened Women, the organization that hosts Gentlemen's Showcases at colleges each spring.

"The current framework is not generating healthy relationships," Blayne Bennett, the organizer of ASU's first Gentlemen's Showcase, has said. "I believe that chivalry provides the positive framework to maximize the overall happiness of men and women."

Women, she said, "want to be treated like ladies."

Bennett and her fellow chivalry advocates have the right idea. "If women give up on chivalry, it will be gone," Sommers tells me. "If boys can get away with being boorish, they will, happily. Women will pay the price."If feminists want to level the playing field between men and women, they should find common cause with traditionalist women, like those at ASU, on the issue of chivalry. Both groups are concerned with how men treat women. They just differ in what that means: Feminists want men to treat women as equals; traditionalists want men to treat women like ladies. Are the two mutually exclusive?

Chivalry is about respect. It is about not harming or hurting others, especially those who are more vulnerable than you. It is about putting other people first and serving others often in a heroic or courageous manner. It is about being polite and courteous. In other words, chivalry in the age of post-feminism is another name we give to civility. When we give up on civility, understood in this way, we can never have relationships that are as meaningful as they could be.

If women today—feminists and non-feminists alike—encouraged both men and women to adopt the principles of civil and chivalrous conduct, then the standards of behavior for the two sexes would be the same, fostering the equality that feminists desire. Moreover, the relations between the sexes would be once again based on mutual respect, as the traditionalists want. Men and women may end up being civil and well-mannered in different ways, but at least they would be civil and well-mannered, an improvement on the current situation.

Through a tragic event that occurred last summer, our nation was jolted into recognizing chivalry's enduring power. During a screening of the Dark Knight, a deranged gunman opened fire in an Aurora, Colorado, theater, murdering twelve innocent people. Three men, all in their twenties, were in the audience that day with their girlfriends. When the shots rang out across the theater, these men threw themselves over their girlfriends, saving the women's lives. All three of the men died.

At the time, Hanna Rosin noted that what these men did was "deeper" than chivalry. It was heroic. I agree. But heroism and chivalry share a basic feature in common—the recognition, a transcendent one, that there is something greater than the self worth protecting, and that there is something greater than the self worth sacrificing your own needs, desires, and even life for. If we can all agree that the kind of culture we should aspire to live in is one in which men and women protect and honor each other in the ways that they can—and not one in which men are pushing past women and children to save their own lives—then that is progress that women everywhere should support.

Biblical Perspective on Men and Women

by Sheldon Vanauken (author of A Severe Mercy)

“I do not for a moment believe that men are superior to women—only different. To me, one of the God-given joys of this life is the radiant, forever intriguing, complementary difference of man and woman, not just superficially sexual but deep and awesome.

Man and woman are equal, yes, but equal in importance and value; and not, thank God, identical. Equal in importance as a nut and bolt are entirely equal in importance without being identical—and doing a job that neither two nuts nor two bolts could do, holding something together.

Man and woman do what two men or two women cannot do: they hold humanity together. A man and a little pseudo-man won’t do it either. A man and a woman. I can fall on my knees, figuratively at least, before the mysterious wonder of womanhood, even as a true woman sees a splendor in manhood. Masculinity—that which initiates and leads, as the eternal masculinity of God does—needs femininity, feminine response, to complement and complete it. Helpmeet is the biblical word: a suitable or fit help, a completion. Thus man and woman together in that awesome mystery of one flesh is what our Lord ordained for us.”

 

(From the article “Uni-sexism” in The Intellectuals Speak Out About God, pp. 325-326)

A Gospeled Man

by Jared Wilson

 

But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. – 1 Tim 6:11-12

As I view what it means to be a man through the lens of this instruction from Paul to Timothy, I am reminded again of the holy activity of true masculinity (and true personhood, generally). Flee, pursue, fight, take hold. Paul is nothing if not verby. I am struck, though, by how often I fail at these things. I am busy about things that so often don’t matter and passive about things that do. I am lazy. I can’t be bothered. And when I look for where I ought to get the oomph of holy pursuit from, I see Paul couching the masculine imperatives in the masculine indicative: “O man of God.” If this is what I am, this is what I can do. Furthermore, I see the importance of “taking hold of the eternal life to which I was called” for the other actions.

 

The godly man is a gospeled man. He has seen who he is in Christ, he is moved by what God has done for him in Christ. If I don’t get this part, all the rest will just be a self-salvation project, an exercise in self-righteousness.

 

I need a better vision. I need a better vision than simply that of myself as a “manly man” going about some religious busywork. I need a vision of the conquering, saving, loving Savior who has done all these things for me and covers my failures at doing them myself.

If biblical manhood is about denying excuses and taking responsibility — and I think it is — I begin to think of all the excuses the God-Man could have made when it came to loving and saving me. He could have shaken his head and cataloged my list of deep unworthinesses:

 

Father, he’s so sinful. He’s always struggling with lust and he looks at pornography.

Father, he’s so lazy. He doesn’t deserve all this effort.

Father, he’s so unspiritual. He won’t even pick up the Word to read a few lines.

Father, he doesn’t treat his wife the way she ought to be treated.

Father, he’s not the kind of guy who could set the world on fire, is he?

Father, he’s so passive. He’s so timid. He’s such a coward

Father, he’s so prideful. He enjoys praise too much and he’s selfish.

Father, he’s short-tempered. He leaps to defend himself too much.

Father, he’s such a failure, a nobody, a loser. He’s a stuttering wimp, just like that girl in the 5th grade said he was. He is what he always feared his family thought he was. He doesn’t deserve a second glance like those bosses at his first job proved. He is what his critics say he is, worthy of scorn and derision and unworthy of forgiveness. He is what the Accuser says he is, only as good as what he has failed to do and deserving of eternal condemnation.

But with his atoning sacrifice Jesus doesn’t say any of those things about me. He says “Father, this man is your son and you’ve set your affections on him. So I am pleased to die for him.”

 

So I write this today not as a perfect man, but as a gospeled man, because I have taken hold of Christ having taken hold of me (Phil. 3:12). I have been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb, and now by God’s grace I am empowered to love well and serve well and husband well and daddy well and pastor well. And so can you, men of God, if you will but lay hold of it.

 

Take hold of this precious truth. The Son of God has set aside all the charges against you, all your sins and failings, and has taken them to the cross, killing them by dying with them, leaving them dead as he himself raises to new life — your new life, which is eternal and into which he is calling you.

 

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
– Romans 8:1

 

Jared C. Wilson is the pastor of Middletown Springs Community Church in Middletown Springs, Vermont and the author of the books Your Jesus is Too Safe, Gospel Wakefulness, Gospel Deeps and the Bible study resources Abide and Seven Daily Sins.