"We castrate the gelding and then bid him be fruitful." C.S. Lewis To castrate means to literally hack of the balls of a male. I feel a little queasy at just the thought of it. It is common practice in the horse world, but has seen serious momentum among humans over the last 40-50 years. I mean, we don't actually separate a man from his nut sack, but we might as well. To pervasively tell him that:
- he is no different than a woman
- he is unnecessary in the family dynamic
- that he needs to get more in touch with his feminine side
I'm surprised we're not all lactating about now. Instead of elevating all that is glorious, mysterious, and beautiful about women (see my post about my wife, "Intoxicated"), they simply sought to dismantle our masculine identity while replacing theirs that resembled something more like ours. It sounds ludicrous and preposterous as I write it, but it is the predominant world view that most of our lives have operated under.
The battlefield is strewn with angry, pissed-off women that can't become the men the world has told them they should be, and castrated men who feel out of place and de-toothed in the gender-neutral equality of our time. Is it no wonder their is so much sexual ambiguity, marital discord, and relational collateral damage of all kinds. Nobody has any clarity around who God created them to be! Easy for me to point my finger at all that...all the ills of society reeking all the damage in ways I don't like.
Interesting how it isn't all their fault. The sadder reality is that wounded men wound others...inexplicably and without intention possibly, but they would others. That is certainly my story. Out of a broken and confusing home life as a child, I intentioned the perfect Christian family and the perfect children. I loved my wife and kids, but their behavior, appearance, and holiness was the basis of my identity.
I didn't just want them to look and act a certain way, my very life depended on it. I desperately fought to preserve they way I thought things should look; my marriage almost failed and we're still dealing with the collateral damage in the lives of our kids due to my fathering. The most discernible impact was born on our incredibly gifted, but dutiful son. He got the worst of it.
He recently blogged, "For the Love of the Game" from Spain about beginning to believe in himself. Starting to trust all that God put in him and is grabbing the mantle of leadership God so graciously placed over his life.
The great Restorer of the broken hearted has come to heal and set free. The Father is mending the broken places from the father.
I sat at our younger son's little league game yesterday and wept as I read his post. I love to see the full weight of Jesus' Isaiah 61 ministry manifest in the life of a man...helping him find freedom and healing for all the broken places But when it is your son and the broken places are partially the work of your hands, it is something altogether. It holds the promise that healed men can help bring healing to other men.