The Man Movie

My man and I went on a date this past Friday. Call it an early Valentine celebration, as this morning I put him on a plane bound for West Africa. We decided to see a movie after a very nice dinner, and the movie choices came down to a sappy chick flick or a man movie, chalked full of violence and adventure. I think the last movie that we saw together was a sappy chick flick, so I took one for the team this time and we saw the man movie. "The Hurt Locker." Not for the faint of heart.

It was a war movie based in Iraq in 2004. It followed a team of specialists who would disassemble bombs (I'm sure there was a name for them, but I'm completely ignorant to that terminology). By the time the movie was over, I was completely exhausted and thoroughly stressed, meanwhile my husband was jazzed up and ready to go conquer the world. Something occurred to me by the movie's end, though, exhausted as I was: men want to be a part of something bigger than themselves and thrive on the adventure of being a hero.

The story line in this movie followed a team of 3 men who were the amazing heroes in some very harrowing situations. They saved thousands of lives. They were called in to save the day when everyone else was evacuating. It was intense. And then, when their tour was finished, they went home. To cereal aisles that were entirely too long, and house gutters that needed to be cleaned out, and veggies that needed to be chopped for dinner. They went home where no one knew what they had seen, where the horrific images of death and destruction were a million miles away, where the tales of their travels were neither welcomed nor appreciated. They were expected to assimilate back into the mundane of life, knowing that people were still dying in their absence.

At one point after the soldiers had returned home, one was trying to tell his wife a story about disarming a bomb, and his wife was giving only a half ear to listen and quickly changed the subject, asking him to chop the carrots for dinner.

Have you ever tried to tame your man? Have you ever hoped that some wild-hair idea that he came up with would simply pass away without further exploration? Have you ever asked him to tone things down just a bit? Have you ever used the children as leverage, such as claiming that the children need their father? Have you ever reminded him that we need to be practical and responsible first? Have you ever seen his spirit just shrink back into nothingness?

Are our men not created to engage in the battles of the world? Were they not created for the struggle and adventure of conquering, rescuing, and toiling to create a better place? I think that sometimes we, as women, struggle with all that. We are relational, wanting peace and tranquility. Let's work things out over a cup of tea, or a good jog. And we want our men to be the same. That's predictable and rational, easier to control. But they weren't made like that. They long and ache for the adventure of it all. And I don't just mean travel, because I certainly love a good adventure. They love the quest, long for it. They want the battle, to be tested and proved worthy as a man. But what if they are convinced to not engage in it at all?

Today I put my man on a plane and I am praying for wild adventures for him. I miss him terribly and this is going to be a long spell without him here, but I am crazy about Jesus and am so proud of my man for stepping out in obedience, that others may know Him too. The girls miss daddy too, but they know that daddy's words about Jesus aren't just lip service. This is life and death. It's real. They get to see what it looks like to be completely sold out, holding nothing back, and we pray for the day that they too step out in obedience to Jesus, only left to wonder what it will look like.

Just the thoughts in my head as I go to bed alone tonight. Miss my man. Proud of my man.