Melodies from heaven
Rain down on me, rain down on me
Melodies from heaven
Rain down on me, rain down on me
Take me in your arms and hold me close
Rain down on me, rain down on me
~ Kirk Franklin
The last few months have been tough. And I don't mean the kind of tough where people say, "tough times don't last, but tough people do." I mean the kind that Jesus spoke about, "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart I have overcome the world," kind of tough. The type of tough times found in Psalm 55.
I've felt betrayed, lied to and on, buried a coworker, walked with my family through loss and difficulty, made significant life changes, and opened up our home in hospitality to those in need. I've grown closer to friends, found comfort in unexpected places, read, prayed, contemplated, played video games, had long talks with my wife, and been supported by family.
The feelings and sensations of life have intensified over the last six months, pulling me up and pushing me down, and teaching me valuable lessons about life and living.
In a recent conversation with a friend, he mentioned what God is teaching him through 1 Corinthians 13:11, "When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put aside childish things." He shared how, as a man with many responsibilities, he can't get caught up in childish and trivial pursuits, even when others try to pull him into their mess and drama. We spoke about how we can't allow decisions that are incongruent with our values to tear down the lives that we've built through grace, diligence, wisdom, skill, and understanding. The life you desire to live as a godly man and leader costs you something. Honestly, it costs you everything.
I've never been melodramatic. This post may come off that way. Some people may say, "Yeah, life is tough. Suck it up and be a man." (I've been slowly praying and reading through Psalms, so I'm all up in my feelings) I have come to understand that when people say things like that, it can mean many different things, and most people don't have a singular view of what it means to "be a man." Does being a man mean being unfeeling? That you can't express emotions? Do you have to be so tough and untouchable that you can't express your vulnerability and fears? That you shoulder the world's burdens and never speak of the crushing weight?
Is that manhood?
Is that life?
Is that what people expect?
If so, it's no surprise that many men succumb to vice as they navigate that definition of manhood. Too many of us are being choked out by the weight and cares of life, with no place to release the pressure slowly building beneath the surface. While much of manhood is about leadership, stewardship, and presence, how we handle these things in the day-to-day will make a significant impact on our quality of life and our longevity.Â
Two Examples and a Word of Comfort
On Pressure
In the movie Encanto, there is a magical family given gifts to protect, provide, and care for a village of people. While there are many diverse groups of people in the village, only the Madrigal family has these magical abilities, and no one in the family has the same gift or ability. This is to ensure that they work together to meet the needs of the people. They received these gifts through tragedy and sacrifice. Early in the movie, it becomes clear that something is off with this family. They seem to have everything put together, and the opening song is about all the beautiful things this family can do.
Then, we are introduced to a character named Luisa. Luisa is the oldest sister of the third generation of the Madrigal family. Her youngest sister, Mirabel, has the gift or burden of being able to tell that things are not as they should be. She goes to her sister to find out what's going on with the family, and Luisa breaks into a musical number called Surface Pressure (It's worth watching the video and reading the lyrics to the song). What we find out about Luisa is that she is stressed, stretched, and susceptible to being overcome by pressure.
What's the point? Luisa was supposed to be the strongest person in her family and community. She was expected to shoulder everyone's burdens and never mention how heavy those burdens weighed on her. The problem? Those burdens were killing her, slowly draining her power and her will to keep going. Her identity was so wrapped up in her strength that when she felt weak, she felt useless and as if her life had no meaning. She lived with shame that if she couldn't fully utilize her gift, who was she? Nobody! That was her unfortunate answer.
Too many men and women feel this crushing pressure. I used to work with a group traveling around to schools, talking to students about bullying. To demonstrate how pressure builds up in our lives, we would take several balloons and have people come on stage to blow them up using different techniques and instruments. One student would use their breath, another student would use a balloon pump, and one student would use a ball pump (you think that these would quickly inflate balloons, but they let too much air out because they weren't made to blow up balloons, there is a lesson in that, but it's not the topic of today's post). The way to win was to cause your balloon to explode by filling it with the most air and doing it the fastest. The person with the balloon pump always won. We told them that too many of us are like the balloon that explodes; we fill with so much pressure that we never release it, and it causes violence to explode on others or implode on ourselves.
I'm sure you get it by now but in case you don't, let me clarify. Too many men are being crushed by the pressure, and it is making them bitter and resentful.
On Expectation
Few television shows have captured my attention in real-time, but during the 2016 Summer Olympics, NBC regularly advertised its hit new show, This Is Us. My wife and I thought that the commercials made the show look attractive, but neither of us was a big TV watcher (we didn't have a television until 2016, which we got for the sole purpose of watching the Olympics). But it was something about that show. I quickly moved on from thinking about the show after the Olympics ended, but one evening, I came into the living room to find her three shows deep into this new television show, so I sat down and started watching it with her. That began a six-year ritual in the Brister household: every Tuesday night at 8 pm, you knew where we would be, in front of a television, watching our favorite show, This Is Us.
This Is Us, followed the Pearson family and regularly rotated between the present, past, and future. It was a beautiful show with great storytelling, but what drew me in was the character Randall Pearson, played by the phenomenal actor Sterling K. Brown. Randall (Sterling) was a Black man adopted by a white family in Pittsburgh, PA. He's a man always in search of his identity, but he also excels at everything he does. He has a beautiful family and a great job and has, by most measures, reached the apex of success. But this success has come at a significant cost to his mental health; he is in search of perfection because that is what he has always expected from himself and what others have come to expect. A man who is always willing to forgive. A man who is always willing to show up. A man who is always willing to put in the extra hours. A man expected to overlook the racism that he experienced. A man who should be grateful for all that he has received because many Black men never have that opportunity.
Randall Pearson and Anxiety (Watch the video - Let yourself feel)
I didn't see it until a friend pointed it out, but he told me one day, "I can see why you love that show. I watched it with my wife and thought this guy was Danny." I laughed but thought about his words when I had time to myself. He was right. I identified so much with Randall. A Black boy moved from what was safe and comfortable and exposed to surviving in a white world when my family moved to Hoover. I had to learn to excel in a hostile environment and fight to uncover my true identity. There came a time in my life when I looked around and saw that I was outpacing those around me; I got married first, I had a kid first, my career was taking off, and I was respected as a young leader for my gifts and abilities. Instead of humble gratitude, it brought a quiet fear that was only quiet on the outside but raged on the inside. A Black man trying to figure out life while others looked to me for leadership, wisdom, and moral authority. Trying to meet everyone's expectations. It couldn't last. It didn't last.
In This Is Us, Randall has a significant nervous breakdown and several anxiety attacks. The weight of the expectations became too much. He couldn't deal with the betrayal, the grief, the fights with family, and the expectation to still show up the same way before his world began to crumble. His body was warning him that he wasn't okay; his hands would shake, his vision would blur, his leg would bounce up and down uncontrollably, and his focus waned. His wife saw it coming; how? Several years prior, he had a similar episode that left him temporarily debilitated. I've learned that before a man has a public unraveling, he has already had a private one that has gone ignored.
Let It Rain
In life, it rains. Some rain is accompanied by storms, and sometimes it just rains—the sun out, the sky blue, and rain gently falling on your face. Rain is essential to the earth. It softens the hardened ground in spring after winter. It causes new life—you know, the whole April showers bring May flowers.
What rain is to the earth, love is to the heart. Many things can accompany love, but sometimes love is just love. Doing what it does; softening our hearts. Opening us up to acceptance and forgiveness. Inviting us to release the pressure that builds up and let go of the weight of expectations. Causing us to bloom into who we have been created to be. Authentic. Beautiful. Strong. Honest. Vulnerable. Creative. Not perfect. Sometimes insecure. Confident. Unsure. Principled. Free.
Love keeps us going. In our society, we don't acknowledge that enough. We talk too much about responsibility and not enough about love. When the Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Ephesus about a husband's role in a marriage, he didn't first speak of obligation or responsibility. He spoke of love. Love your wife. Why? Because the wife is desperately lost without a husband's love, and the most important thing a man can give a woman is love? NO! I used to believe that. The reason is that man needs to love. From the beginning, love was woven into his DNA. He is fashioned after the greatest lover to ever exist. God created because He loved. He made us in His image out of love. He placed Him in a beautiful but wild environment. He gave Him a wife and the responsibility to love.
Being loved changes us, but loving transforms us. A man in love will do courageous or foolish things, grow up or act out, rise to meet the burning love, or see the call to greatness and quit on the way.
Men, we need both. We need to love and be loved. We need to know what it means to wholeheartedly surrender to God's love and respond in love back to Him. We need to give ourselves to the call to love our wives, our kids, our communities, our churches, and our neighbors. Being loved and learning to love authentically and wholeheartedly will refresh your soul.
Brothers, we also need to love each other. We won't do certain things to one another if we genuinely love each other. We wouldn't lie to one another. We would be honest with each other, not stringing one another along. We initiate hard conversations with grace, love, mercy, truth, and understanding. We would be compassionate and kind. We would be strong and honest. We would hold one another accountable and give way to wrath. Brothers, we need each other. So let this love letter remind you of how deeply you are loved, and let it soften your heart. Life is hard enough. Some things we make harder when we allow hard hearts to hinder us from fellowship and friendship.
To Be A Man
Longer Version with different Men sharing their Story - Remix