Soaring with Evel Knievel

I gun the throttle and hit the jump.  There I am up in the air flying across the yard.  I feel like I am soaring with Evel Knievel across a canyon.  The dirt bike and I come down and I have just a split second to make the sharp turn to get back onto the driveway.  The gravel beneath the tires sprays out into the yard behind me as I continue to turn the bike to safety.  But gravity and force are getting the better of me; pulling me into the wet grass on the other side of the drive.  And before I know it I am down.  As I slide across the grass away from the dirt bike something doesn't feel right.  I come to a stop.  My breathing stops.  My heart stops.  I roll over and look up at the grey clouds in the sky that had recently poured rain onto the bike trail.  And then as I take my first breath, pain washes over my body and I realize that something was indeed not right in my world.  I lift up my hands to my face and see the fingers out of place.  Pain seizes my hands and I shout out for my son to come help me.  The grey clouds turn white as I feel myself try to slip away in the anguish of pain.  I look at my broken fingers once again and shake my head to wake myself up.  I get up slowly and stare at my hands just hanging there at the end of my arms.  “Well,” I said to myself, “that’ll leave a mark.”

I honestly believed that once I got older that I would get to an end of all the stupid things I have done in my life.  But, every year seems to find me in a position where I have to say, “well, that’ll leave a mark.”  It’s a big deal to me as well, because I don’t want you to think of me as stupid.  I have worked hard for the majority of my life to convince everyone that I am fine, and that I have everything together.  Everything is great.  My marriage is great.  My kids are great.  My life is great, great, great.

Do you relate at all to this?  Trying to hide your weaknesses and failures from others so you look better.  We have to recognize the heart of this issue if we are going to be true.  It is a selfish thing to wear a mask.  Call it self-preservation, self-protection, self-centered; it doesn't matter.  It is from a selfish heart that this comes.

I love the line I have played in my head and actually spoken to my wife; “I was just trying to protect you.”  Bullshit.  I wasn't trying to protect her.  I was protecting my own butt.  If I truly cared about her and our marriage I would have fallen face first before her and exposed my true nature.  I would have shared my weaknesses.  I would have told her of my previous failures.  All of these truths being shared would have been about protecting her.  But no, I hid the truth from her so that I would appear better.

The first aspect of this is the concept of us getting our validation from our spouse.  And that is the most dangerous thing we can do.  Marriage has to be more than that selfish activity.  We hide our true sinful nature because we need our spouse to affirm that we are great.  But when we hide ourselves from others it is a false validation.  They are only validating the impostor and not the real us.

The other aspect of this is that for us to be open and honest with others, we have to be able to trust them.  And trust is hard to come by these days.  Is it even possible to trust others?  We have been hurt so many times by those that claim to love us.  And so I am to trust these people with my brokenness?  Most days we say “no thank you.”

So I trudge along year after year keeping up appearances.  And every year I get more tired playing this stupid game.  I am so worn out trying to live as the “Mythological Liar”.  Because when we get down to it, life isn't always great, and we aren't always fine.  We struggle, we fall, and we break.  So we throw ourselves into another set of “Rules to Live By” and hope for the best.  We convince ourselves that if we would just be more “Christian” everything would be fine.  Tell me, how did that work out for you?

It didn't work for me.  Every now and then, my mask would slip and the real me would be exposed.  People would catch a glimpse and I would have to deal with the outcome.  They might embrace me, or they might reject me.  Whatever it was, I just had to deal with it.  And that is a hard place to be when you don’t think highly of yourself.

I can hear some of you now.  “What, Brian, you don’t think highly of yourself?  How can that be?  You are boastful, arrogant, and sometimes a royal jerk belittling others.  What do you mean you don’t think highly of yourself?”  Or some others of you may be saying, “But Brian, you are compassionate, thoughtful and always giving to others.”

Yes, my impostor is boastful, arrogant, and a royal ass.  I am also compassionate, thoughtful, and giving.  My impostor can be whatever I need it to be in the situation.  I do that as a defensive measure to protect from getting hurt.  Because I know the real me; and I don’t like the real me very much.

And I would assume that I am not the only one like this.  Some of you may be thinking about the different masks you wear to hide from others.  Can you name them?  Can you see them?  Picture yourself pulling your mask off and hold it in your hands.  What do you see there?  What do you think others see there in that mask?

Let me finish the dirt bike story.

We make it to the hospital and I get the news that I knew was coming.  I had broken my pinky finger on my left hand; and I had broken my ring finger and my pinky finger on my right hand.  My pinky fingers, really.  That’s it.  Evel Knievel would have broken more than that.  I longed to have broken my arm, my shoulder, my neck, anything but my pinky fingers.  But there is more to the story.

You see, that dirt bike I was on was a kid’s dirt bike.  It wasn't some massive 400cc king of the dirt hills; no it was a little 70cc kiddies bike.  How do I look to you now?  How do you feel about my story when the mask is down and the real me is revealed?  Still sexy?  Still heroic?

And this is where the fantasy and realty collide.  Me, goofing off on a kid’s dirt bike, dreaming that I am Evel Knievel, and I lay it down and break my pinky fingers.  What a sight I am.  But I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I have nothing to fear or hide, because no matter what others think of me I know the real me.  And as much as I don’t like the real me; I love the real me.  And everyday I am learning to love the real me more and more.  Everyday I am learning about grace.

Can you give the real you the grace you need to live?

It’s a risk to live in a realm of grace.  These masks are really good at protecting me and I don’t know if I could trust others to be kind.  Is there some hope that a life free of the impostor is possible?
I believe there is hope for a life without the impostor.  I believe we can experience safety in the realm of grace and live there.  I believe that there is someone who loves the real us, no strings attached.  I do believe in grace.  And if you are like me, then you are tired of living this life without it.

If you made it this far through these wandering words, I thank you.

For guys, there is a group of men who will be gathering on Wednesday nights in Columbia, Missouri starting October 1st to talk about this Grace thing.  If you would like to join us, then please let me know.
So, here is a chance to come together with a group of men who are struggling, falling, and breaking.  A chance to find out that you are not alone in life and that there is “Grace” that will bring you from a life of pretending to a life of living.  This is a chance to stand with Jesus and face the curse of this world; instead of searching for another mask to wear to hide from your failures.  This is a risk.  Grace is a risk.  But, it is also a glorious adventure that will lead you to the great heights of what it means to be a man.  So if you are interested, then please come join me on Wednesday nights starting the first of October as we seek “The Cure.”