i am not a good man

I’ve thought a lot about what it means to be a man over the last 10 or so years. The “Christianese” verse to throw out here is “why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.” Cool.

But the truth is, I’m not that good. I have a super short wick, I’m bound to get overwhelmed by frustrations and take it out on people around me (however justified, or non-justified my frustrations might be). I constantly grumble about crap out of my control, and I act out of that frustration by returning to destructive habits and activities. I think, and say, horrible things about people around me, even people I care deeply about. I scoff. I am selfishly devoted. I flip people off on the highway. I’m just icky, man.

My son sees some of this stuff, as much as I try to hide it or protect his innocence from it. He’s a witness to my non-goodness. That sucks. His little eyes absorb all the things, and he’s going to have reflections on that either now or later. Can good come from that? Yeah, probably. Is it worth it? Yeah, probably. But is that a license for me to continue being this type of person? No, not probably.

This article from a guy named Jon Bloom, from Desiring God, helps me understand a bit more of why I am not a good man. My trust engine is off track. My trust is set somewhere else rather than where it should be. That trust is pulling all of my hope, emotions, reflections, decisions, and reactions along with it towards wherever this train is heading. I’m a hopeless dude. That makes me not a good man.

Here’s a bit of a journal entry I just made directly regarding this -

“Ok, so the engine of Trust is leading me where? What is my trust? The ultimate trust is that God is doing everything for the best of eternity. Nothing we do here necessarily impacts that trust, meaning whatever our hand finds to do here IS NOT salvation. I wonder if I’m looking at the physical things here as salvation rather than the trenches. My trust there seems very flimsy, I don’t understand eternity. It’s not something I can give a real reflection on if I am making it happen, like building a deck. I see results, I don’t see results for eternity, so my trust in that is kind of fleeting. That’s probably the work of a believer. 

What I’m constantly distracted by is that this IS NOT home. I’m at war right now. This isn’t where I am meant to last, it’s where I’m meant to survive. I think that I’ll be comfortable when I have enough, whatever that means. But if I get comfy here, I’m missing the point. I need to do work that is aimed at reflecting the eternal goodness of God. I’m not responsible for saving anyone, however my living needs to reflect his goodness – I don’t understand his goodness. I don’t know how to measure knowing his goodness either, I don’t know how to work on that strategically.”

This world isn’t home, we’re in a spiritual battle ALL THE TIME. There is a real enemy out there, but I’m often caught thinking it’s some invisible out of sight'-out of mind type enemy. Nah, it’s constant warfare. Everything pulls your (my) attention somewhere - either TOWARDS eternal bliss and perfection, or away from that. Everything. The work of someone who proclaims faith in God, then, is to take heed of that and pursue a trust and hope in the promise that things will be ultimately good in the end. That’s the work.

I’m convicted. I know I won’t be a “good” man, but I want to be a good man - I know that God is only good, and I also want to do well at being kind, gentle, faithful, strong, humble, loving, leading, a rock, a source of comfort and energy, responsible, diligent, disciplined, life-giving, encouraging, emotionally stable, courageous. I don’t want to be led by what I don’t have - financial freedom, control over my own time, incredible leaders and mentors - I want to work towards all of those things being pulled by a truth that “here” isn’t forever, but forever is good and being crafted, so I can trust in that. From a redirection of my trust, hope will flow more purely, my emotions will become effervescent, and my thoughts won’t weigh me down into a pit of despair I’m currently wallowing in. I’ll be a more gooder man, but not “good.” I want that.