--------------------------------------------------------------------------- TRACKS IN THE SAND UNCOVERING CHRISTIAN MEN'S ISSUES On-line issue Issue #3 - Dec 1992 Tracks in the Sand is in text file available on BBS's CompuServe and America On Line It is uploaded as TRACKV03.TXT, the number is the issue number and year. Feel free to upload and pass the issue around. We appreciate letters to the Editor, comments and articles. You can be added to our mailing list by contacting us on CompuServe or America On Line. Computer Board Address America On Line GSK502 or PeterJac CompuServe 71461,166 IN THIS ISSUE ============= INTERVIEW WITH GORDON DALBEY DON'T CURSE THE ROAD TO PARADISE MY FATHER'S BLESSING WHAT GROWS ON THE FAMILY TREE? Poem: MY BROTHER'S ROOM -------------------------------------------------------------------------- DO REAL MEN GO TO CHURCH?? AN INTERVIEW WITH GORDON DALBEY TRACKS: What pain, need, or wound do you see men facing today? DALBEY: The basic pain I see is that most of us don't know where we belong in the world. We are drifting, in a sense, and no one has confirmed that we belong in the world. This indicates our lack of a father to welcome us or even to affirm us, leading to a loss of our sense of destiny and calling. When I ask men, "What do you think God had in mind when he created you?" Men 30 or 40 years old are often unsure of how to answer. Even men who have given their hearts and lives to Jesus have not been able to approach the Father God with these kinds of questions because they do not trust that He will listen based on their experience with their own earthly father. This results in a very basic kind of pain - a feeling that men have of not knowing where they fit in. We haven't heard our fathers say, "I'm happy you're here, son" or "How do you feel about this?" The father has not been there to give the boy a sense of accomplishment - to affirm that what the father sees is good. In times past, a boy's father might watch his son and see that he was good at carpentry. Then he would get him an apprenticeship with a carpenter so the boy could try it out. It is the father's job to call the boy out into the world and to give him the sense that he belongs in the world and show the boy that with his gifts and talents he is able to make a contribution. Ideally, the father calls the son out into the world where father and son can begin to see where God wants the young man to be, contribute, and make a difference in the world. Without this two things happen: 1) The boy doesn't believe he has anything worth contributing. 2) He feels very insecure and doesn't feel like he belongs in the world. He becomes withdrawn and it is hard for him to respond pro-actively toward life. Instead, he becomes passive - accepting whatever comes his way. His thoughts might be "I don't belong anyhow." TRACKS: What do you think is the main experience that men are missing which has lead so many men into an isolated compulsive/addictive life style? DALBEY: They haven't had the older man come along side of them and give them security. I don't mean leading them every step of the way and say "do this" or "do that." This gets men into authoritarian religions and cults. It is not a security of, "Tell me what to do since I am afraid to face the pain of my own uncertainty or I will get a pastor or someone to tell me what to do then I will fit in." Instead, it seems that there needs to be an older man reaching out to them as boys who are crying out in their spirits for someone older to come along side and say, "I care for you." So the missing experience is that of the older man confirming the boys and saying "You are one of us - we like what we see in you - we value you as a man - we want you with us - welcome to our community" The only way to get this as an adult is to covenant with other men in some kind of small group setting. As Jesus would put it , "where two or three are gathered that is where you meet the One who is one with the Father." We all need the healing presence of the Father today. TRACKS: What does a community of men look like? DALBEY: We don't have any community of men to invite the boys into. Men have come to me and said "we have to do something for the boys." I feel that the best way to respond to this need is to start to build a masculine community to invite them into. Otherwise, you end up taking them out to Disneyland and this is good, but it doesn't address the much deeper longing in the boy that says "my father wants me to be with the men who are about something important in life". TRACKS: Does the church have an answer today for what men are looking for in the secular Men's Movement? DALBEY: I would say the secular movement's main platform is "men do not have fathers, therefore, we are very badly wounded. We need to get in touch with the deep masculine". Robert Bly indicates that the way this is done is to go out and beat a drum, shout, and that kind of stuff. If this were the only goal in life - to get in touch with the deep masculine - then that might help. But something is radically missing in the secular approach. They cannot heal the father wound because they do not know The Father. They can point out the fact to men "you didn't have a father - therefore you are wounded, so come out here, do these things, and you will feel better about yourselves." In John Bradshaw's work we can take one step further because it shows us that we need to forgive our father for wounding us, and Bradshaw does a good job leading people into forgiveness. But now that I have forgiven my dad, now what do I do? I still need to be a man who understands what his gifts are and I still need father love. I may forgive my father, and that is very essential, but now I am ready for my purpose in life. We need a father to come along side of us in this area. Robert Bly never said he was a Christian and God will not hold him accountable for giving the word about knowing the Father God. It will be the Church that will be held accountable because we know the Father God. Jesus said "If you have seen me you have seen the Father." But the Church is not letting Jesus be whom He says He is by allowing Him to introduce the Father to us. The Church does have the answer but we are not going to Him and saying, "Okay, Jesus you are one with the Father and that is what we need," in the way Philip said to Jesus in John 14:8 "Show us the Father and that will be enough for us." TRACKS: What do you think of Robert Bly and his work in establishing a community for men? Does he have any tools or things the Church could possibly look at as far as establishing a community of men within the Church? DALBEY: Robert Bly is a brilliant man. His intelligence combines with his wounding so that we get some very good stuff from him. But ultimately if you don't have Jesus you will get destruction at some point. The enemy will be right there. I thank God for the insights of Robert Bly. In 1983, my prayer partner clipped out an interview with Robert Bly before anyone had heard of him. When I read the interview I was blown away. I knew he was on to something powerful and if it rings true to me as a man then it has to be in the Bible. I went back to the scriptures praying that Jesus would show me where this truth was. This is how Healing the Masculine Soul came about. I found out there was a lot of truth in the text that Robert Bly was presenting but he dropped the Holy Bible as a source of truth and took up the pagan and eastern myths as his reference point. But there is no ultimate healing for men. Only the Father God can heal. It is important to know the Father God and surrender to him as Father of the woman as well as the man. A woman is one of His daughters and when you look at a woman you are looking at one of your Father's daughters. This will naturally bring respect, or you will be answering to her Father! One of the keystones I look to in the men's movement is the respecting of women versus the worship of women. Robert Bly has done an excellent job of portraying that idolatry although he would not call it idolatry. TRACKS: How do you see the church reaching out to men and addressing the issues of woundedness, abandonment and pain. Do you see a movement toward that? DALBEY: As a pastor, I observe that women are more active in the Church than men. We have been raised by our mothers and as a culture or church we don't know how to reach out to men. We don't trust each other and we don't respect each other as men because we have had that father wound together. There is a movement in the Church emerging primarily out of the churches that realize that men have been left out too long. It is also coming from women in the church who are saying "Where are the men - we need them?" In the church I pastor, we have about 80% singles. The women are saying, "Where are the men? We are walking in the Lord and we need men to walk with us and they are not here." The danger I see is that this new movement could basically become the same as the secular movement with Christian vocabulary overlaid on it. In other words, it will be a way to get men pumped up and say "Hey we are better than women" or "We just need to do a few things and that will make men out of us." The Christian men's movement is in a dangerous place because it is at the crossroads. One possible direction is to say "Here is what the Bible says on how to be a man, now go out and DO IT". It is the same old pharisaic religiosity that not only offers no healing to men but also lays burdens on them without lifting a finger to help. It is the worst kind of male-bashing. It speaks to a man that has been broken, wounded and crushed and says, "You've got to read the scriptures more, and do this and that to be a man." This is the religion that killed Jesus and it is still a virulent strand in the church - a sort of "do the right thing," but no relationship with the right man or men. The other direction is relationship - this is why I like the 12-Step programs so much. The program has been very helpful in getting men to begin breaking down the pattern of doing to be a man. It is right out of Romans 7 - and says "I can't do it " - it springs from our own powerlessness. TRACKS: In your book Healing the Masculine Soul you talked about "wormboys". Could you clarify what you mean by "wormboy"? DALBEY: I cannot take credit for this term. It comes out of the secular women's movement. My understanding of it is a man without backbone, a man without an agenda of his own in life, a crowd follower, the passive male, he has no sense of destiny, no desire or passion for a calling on his life. It is a man who has an attitude of "Well, honey, whatever you want is fine." Thirty years ago, women were angry at the macho tough guy, but now this anger is directed towards the "wormboy" character, because women are saying they need men with strength to come along side them. TRACKS: You have been quoted as saying, "The church is really like a mother protecting men and boys from their manhood." Is true masculinity outside the church? Is the church, in fact, full of "wormboys"? DALBEY: I get asked this question from mixed groups of men and women. The singles, especially in these groups, ask "Why is it that the stronger men are just not in the church?" Our problem is that we have not articulated the true strength that Jesus comes to give us because we haven't given Him our weakness. We come to the church saying, "I am weak and I didn't have a father to encourage me, but in the church I don't have to be strong because everyone is supposed to be kind, gentle, tender, soft, sweet, and meek." So, my weakness gets affirmed in the church and I can hide from the deeper calls of the Father God: boldness, courage and strength to stand against an enemy that is out to destroy this world and all that He is doing in it. It is the Father God that is saying, "I need men. I need my sons to step forward boldly as warriors." TRACKS: Do you foresee the development of "rites of passage" in the church for fathers calling out their sons? DALBEY: There is an essential progression in this. Far to often the men are anxious to call the boys out but they don't want to do the work themselves. The first job is not to be a father but to be a son. When I wrote my new book Father and Son, I didn't even have a child. Now I have a son. I was asked how I could write a book called Father and Son and not even be a father. But the book is not aimed at fathering; it is a book on how to be a son beginning with the recognition of yourself as a son of the Father God. You cannot be a father to a boy until you know what a boy is like. You begin to know what a boy is like by going yourself to the Father God and letting Him show you yourself as a son with a Father who loves you and cares about you and honors your feelings and needs. Then you are ready to go to your own son and recognize his feelings and needs and honor them. So when you are talking about calling a boy out, the first thing that men need to do is to get together and go to the Father God and learn to know what it means to be a son. After we experience this with the Father God and allow Him to create the community of men, then we can call the boys out into this community. So the answer to your question is NO, I have not yet found it in the church. I have seen men attempting to do that, but generally they don't have their own issues as men out of the way and they are floundering with being able to call their sons out. They will have the barbecue, go to the baseball game, go fishing, etc., but they don't know how to reach the boy yet. Until a group of men are together asking the Father God to come and heal their father wound, men will not be ready yet to reach out to the boys. I am waiting for the next generation to come, but it will come only in so far as adult men are on their knees together, learning to know the Father. TRACKS: If a man has not had a father or other men to call him out, nor any mentoring or rites of passage, what does he do? Where would he begin? What would he look for? DALBEY: He would look for other men who are wounded like he is wounded. It is not easy. We are going to the heart of the wound. This is fearful stuff. We have learned to distrust men already because the father has not been there for us. To go to another man and say "I need you" - that is where you begin. You begin on your knees saying Jesus, I need you, Father God, I need you. Then you gird yourself up and go to another brother and say "I need you". Jesus says I will meet you where two or three are gathered and that is where you form Christian community. TRACKS: What work is ahead of men who are willing to face their woundedness, pain, and issues? Could you say something about the weakness and powerlessness in men that they are fearful to face DALBEY: The weakness and powerlessness is an existential given. We are powerless as human beings to change ourselves. If we are so powerful to change we wouldn't need Jesus. The reason we think we are powerful, or desperately try to believe it, is because we don't believe that Jesus is come to save us. To the extent to which a man does not believe Jesus has come to save him, he is going to be scrambling after his own power to control people and things around him. The work ahead is a matter of trusting Jesus, that is to say, trusting the Father. That has to take place in the context of other men. You can't say "I love you God but I have a lot of trouble with you, my brother". The work ahead is overcoming the fear of each other as men. That comes out of a fear of our own masculine energy. We have seen masculine energy mostly in destructive ways - where we withdraw from people, shoot people, punish them, judge them. But we haven't seen a lot of examples of positive masculine energy - that bold, outgoing, calling people out to the Father where we use it to empower them, undergird them, strengthen them, encourage them, and protect them. This is the work ahead for us. TRACKS: Can we as fathers stop the wounding between fathers and sons or at least slow it down? DALBEY: We need to take our own wounding to Jesus. And He is waiting to say, "That is enough. I have been waiting for some man in this blood line to come to me with the wound and cry out - 'Jesus save me from this wound. My father wounded me unto death. I don't want to pass it on to my son. Whatever is necessary, Jesus, break me unto death.'" TRACKS: Is the wounding the sin which is passed down from generation to generation? DALBEY: Exactly, and it will continue to go that way until someone takes it to Jesus. Whichever man chooses to take that wound to Jesus can be assured that he will not pass it on wholesale to his son. Now, in this present day, none of us will be wholly healed 100% until we meet Jesus face to face. So we are all going to pass some wounding down to our children. That is part of life in this broken world. If we could be the perfect father our children would not need Jesus. Fathers will not be able to do the whole healing and cleansing for their sons, there is always room left for Jesus. Every man is going to have to spend his life at the foot of the cross. We will never be perfect as men or fathers, but our job is not to be perfect men or fathers but to be on our knees before the Father God and Jesus and let Him continue to grow us up. TRACKS: What part does grieving play in the healing process? Is it something men need to learn? DALBEY: Basically, grieving is letting go of your pain. If we hold on to the pain it will control us. You may even displace it onto others by being violent to others. If you don't take your pain to Jesus, it will take you. If you don't surrender your pain to Jesus you will surrender to your pain and it controls you and dictates your responses. Grieving is an essential process. It has got to be done. Our culture has taught men NOT to face grief and pain. We are afraid of our pain - that somehow it is unmanly to have pain. In some sense it is unmanly to let your pain control you, but I think there is a difference here. We have got to know we are hurting and take the pain to Jesus and it becomes an avenue of healing. If we don't take it to Jesus, it controls us and we end up in the hands of the Destroyer. TRACKS: The Bible does not say much about the issues of the past as much as it speaks to us about living in the present. Could it be that what we are tied to is the un-grieved losses of past? DALBEY: Yes! That is what binds us up. Once you take your pain to Jesus you are freed to the present to be what He has called you to be. As you take your grief to Jesus you meet the Father and begin to know what it means to have a merciful Father. Once you are able to know the Father like this, you become free to move in the Father God's power. Part of the growing up process where we receive the power of the Father God and affect this world, is to take your grief to Jesus and let Him shape you in that grief. Then I can begin to know that I am loved by my Father and He accepts me when I am in my pain and hurting. TRACKS: What is the difference between your book Healing the Masculine Soul and your new book Father and Son? DALBEY: I think Father and Son focuses very specifically on the father wound, while Healing the Masculine Soul was more of a broad sweeping approach. For example, in Father and Son I have a chapter called "In Praise of Old Men." It's interesting to note that Robert Bly, at his conferences, always asks the men under 60 to get up from the front rows and go to the back, and the men over 60 to come and take the honored front row position. That is very powerful and important: to honor the older men. A man who dishonors older men will not honor his own manhood. TRACKS: This goes against what our culture has taught us about honoring older men. DALBEY: Yes. We as a culture denigrate old men. It is criminal what we do to old men. The book Father and Son has a much sharper focus on the father/son wound. TRACKS: Do you have another book in the works? DALBEY: At this point, there are two books that line up with healing the masculinity in men. One concerns spiritual warfare. Sooner or later, we as men have to be up front with that issue: God calls men to be warriors and this world is in the hands of an enemy. Men have got to know what it is to be a son of the Father in order to walk in victory and lead others to the same victory. Along with that is the issue of becoming a father to a boy. And now that my boy has been born, the Lord has me in a living laboratory. So the next two books will deal with spiritual warfare and being a father to a son. TRACKS: How do our daughters fit into the role of the father and being called out? DALBEY: The girls need to be called out as well. Part of the calling out is individualization from the mother. It is a calling out to give identity in themselves apart from the mother. Anyone who has seen a baby with a mother knows, girl or boy, the baby identifies wholly with the mother. Oneness with the mother is very important in the bonding process. It convinces the child that he or she belongs in the world, that they are okay and accepted. But there comes a point - no matter what their sex - when a child has to be called away from the mother individually to discover their own unique calling in the Father God. Girls need that too. They need to know this first of all from the father, that she is acceptable to a man and is valued by a man. Otherwise, she is crippled in her feminine soul and when she comes to approach a man later as a woman or a wife, she will not be able to surrender to him, to trust him, or respect him. She will be on her guard all the time because her experience with the father has been negative and hurtful. She will not be able to trust a man. The whole issue of the father wound is very critical for women as well. I leave it to women to articulate that better to us. The father wound is very deep in the woman as well, and the woman who does not deal with that will end up as a very resentful hard line feminist out to destroy the masculine. It comes out of that anger and hostility toward the father. TRACKS: What is the main message you would like to give to men. DALBEY: I would say that as a man, there is a little boy in your heart that has a longing to bond with his father, to be like his father, seek his approval, encouragement and even his discipline. We all long for an old man to tell us we are okay as a man and that it is good to be a man and welcome us into the community of men. In our society, which has been crushed, squeezed out or denigrated, but it is real. And Jesus has come to meet us in this need. We have a Father God who does love us. We are created out of the will and deliberate desire of a Father God who loves us. He has created us out of His own heart. We are created in His image and He is our Father and we are His sons. We must go to Jesus and start talking to Him about our woundedness, brokenness, need, and longings. Get together with other men, and you will begin to meet this Father who loves you and who will begin to shape you in the fullness of what you have been created to be. wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww Gordon Dalbey is the author of Father & Son: The Wound, the Healing, and the Call to Manhood. (Thomas Nelson) and Healing the Masculine Soul (Word). He is a pastor at the Santa Monica Vineyard in California. He is a popular speaker at conferences, churches and seminars. You can reach him by writing to: Rev. Gordon Dalbey, PO Box 24496, Los Angeles, CA 90024 ============================== DON'T CURSE THE ROAD TO PARADISE by Jon David Roberts I took my place holding the handles of my grandmother's coffin. I felt irony and pain as I connected with the other men. As we each grasped the coffin's full weight, lifting and sliding it into the hearse. I had not seen, touched or spoken to most of these men in as much as thirty years. We had begun life together as boys and young men, still pliable and shapeless like the red Texas clay. But many catalytic events had shaped and formed us into men, now pallbearers, who perspired uncomfortably in the sweltering humidity and heat of South Texas. Holding the handle on my right was my brother Jack, who at this one single moment I felt unusually close to in a grateful and humorous way. The fact was, had our mother not married out of her social class, we might be like one of our other cousins standing around this coffin. Jack and I knew that most of these men would never leave this little town. They would spend their lives laboring as delivery boys, security guards or oil field workers just like their daddies had. Basically, the world ended at the city limits here in Aileen, much like my cousin's days ended in the local cowboy bars. To my left was my favorite cousin Jim. He was my hero and he earned that title with the honesty that characterized his life. Like a messiah Jim's wisdom delivered salvation from the shame I couldn't speak about. He wasn't afraid to talk about anything, and that made him so unlike the rest of my relatives. But he was infected with one disease that plagued our family: religion. Jim suffered with it bravely as the pastor of a small Southern Baptist church in nearby Kingsville. Diagonally to my left stood my cousin Philip in his security uniform, with his shiny badge and gun. He tried to look so serious, something he called "command presence". Anyway, I'm sure he felt that his rent-a-cop uniform lent a certain military formality to his position of pallbearer. Philip had crossed eyes that resulted from a childhood accident. He had carelessly lit a fire-cracker on the stove and it exploded in his face. His mamma told me that it could be fixed with an operation but they just never had the money. His gaze makes it difficult to know when he is talking to you, but I always pretend to listen since he outweighs me by about 150 pounds. Phillip had arranged for the five security company trucks with their flashing lights and the pointed horns of Texas Longhorn bulls jutting outward from the front grill. The lights and bull horns ensured that the funeral procession would be a spectacle. Across the coffin to my right was my cousin Johnny. He is a Vietnam Vet who came home a little crazy but, considering the collective insanity of my family, who could be his judge? Johnny was the family black sheep for several reasons. To begin with, his daddy wasn't married to his mamma and she was a Catholic. Second, he dared to do everything out in the open that everyone else did in secret. I liked this cavalier attitude. The most handsome of us all, Johnny, loved women and they fell in love with him. But the same demons that owned our Grampa Harley, possessed Johnny, so he would thrash any woman who attempted to love him or hold him down. Holding the handle directly across from me was my cousin Stewart Dean. I had rehearsed this moment repeatedly in my mind. I stared into his eyes. I wanted to read his face to see if there was any hint of embarrassment or pain. I hoped there was. Did the wrinkles that ran through his ruddy shin, up past his temples and into his reddish hair come from remorse? Still tall and muscular, he looked back at me and I returned his gaze with all my strength. I wondered what his first words would be. I hadn't looked into those eyes for thirty years. But every night since the summer of 1965, as I drift off to sleep, I have heard his voice with its searing secrets. I remember that summer as the hottest and most humid I had ever known. My family was on vacation in Aileen visiting mother's family. My mother and father left me with my grandma and grandpa at the old wooden house our family called St. Mary's. I thought that it was named after the old woman who died there in my grandparent's care because they said "she suffered like a saint." As a Baptist child, I never questioned religious mysteries and since I didn't know much about saints, to me it all made sense. It turned out that it was actually the name of the street. My cousin Stewart had agreed to come and watch Ed Sullivan on TV with me. Stewart was four years older than my ten, and the awkward changes of manhood had grasped him early. To him I was cherubic and spoiled - his rich cousin from California. Later that night, my uncle Tom's headlights flashed through the screen door as his car careened up the driveway and came to a stop with a thud against the giant pepper tree in the backyard. He stumbled into the house, cussing and swinging the hook that took the place of his missing arm. I saw him go into the bedroom and heard him crashing around the room as he took off his clothes and turned off the light. I followed Stewart and my grandparents to the doorway where my uncle slurred how sorry he was and wiped the slobber off his face with his now naked stump. He asked me to come to sleep with him. I was so afraid I couldn't say anything. He shouted and begged saying I was his favorite nephew. My granpa told him to shut up and then told me to go to bed with Stewart in the other bedroom. I remember now how relieved I had felt. My cousins and I pushed the coffin into the hearse and the sound of the door slamming was like a slap in the face. We climbed into the flashing bull-mobiles as the black hearse pulled out in front. Philip waved us on with his skewed stare looking a bit confused yet still very official and impressive. He and his buddies in uniform would stop traffic so the huge line of cars could get through the two traffic lights in town. My cousin Jim leaned over and told me that in Texas, it's real important to have a long funeral procession because it means the person was really loved. I looked back at the pickups with farm animals in the back and realized I was getting a real bad headache. I had entered the other bedroom as Stewart turned off the light and switched on the droning fan that would blow the smothering heat from the room. We pulled the sheets over our bodies, and the moon shining through the window by the bed made the sheets look like snow, as they clung to us like the summer air. To my surprise he asked me to touch him and I curiously moved my hand to his erect penis. Even though something inside felt very wrong, his attention made me feel older and accepted by him. He then rolled onto my back. I could smell his body odor as he whispered "it won't hurt." Instantly, I became oblivious to the movement in the room, only aware of what I could see and hear outside the window. There was the constant metallic buzz of katydids, the darkness that surrounded the stars and the county mosquito truck with its gently floating fog that landed on the lawns and trees. Fear seized me back into the room as I felt him release inside me and his body jerk. Then he was still. I was terrified. Was I dying? Anguish filled my mind as an invisible shield went up around me. The springs on the bed complained as I got up and crossed the dark hall to the bathroom. I turned on the bathroom light and even the roaches were repulsed by me as they escaped into the cracks and the haunting shadows. I was in pain as I touched myself and realized he had damaged me. My mind was numb and yet insane thoughts filled my head. My heart raced. I cried out to God but I felt too sinful for my voice to ever reach heaven. My parents would be ashamed of me. I could hear their angry voices inside my head. I wanted to die. My stomach ached and I shivered as I cleaned myself and turned off the light. I cried as I crawled back into bed with Stewart. He said that it would be our secret. He said I would be all right. He lied. The service ended solemnly as grandma's coffin descended into the earth. I turned and asked Stewart for a ride back to the airport. Two beer cans broke the silence when they fell out of his pickup as I opened the door and climbed in. I asked Stewart to drive us by St. Mary's on the way. "Stewart do you remember what happened there?" I asked choking on my words. "Don't worry about it Bob. Boys do a lot of crazy things before they get to girls. You know, hormones and all that." "Stewart, you hurt me." I said, controlling my anger with carefully chosen words. "Have you ever thought about it again, Stewart?" In some way this went against my concepts of manhood, but I hoped he had. If he said he cared I could then pretend it wasn't rape. "Nope, I just moved on." He then surprised me by asking. "Will you forgive me?" I couldn't believe my reply when I said. "Yes." We turned onto St. Mary's street. But to our astonishment the house was gone. I couldn't believe my eyes. The house that for so many years had been our grandparent's home was gone. It had been torn down right to the foundation and only the lonely pepper tree remained. Maybe it was a sign. For so many years I had thought about what happened there and my cousin hadn't once. I knew confronting Stewart was my first step of moving out of that room that existed in my head. Seeing the death of that house ended its possession of me. As we drove off towards the airport a country singer on the radio sang "the shortcut to heaven is walking straight through hell." I've gone that way once. I won't be a hostage to my secrets again. ============================= IN MY BROTHER'S ROOM by Jon David Roberts In my brother's room I'm not allowed to play The little fingers that break things Are unexpectedly welcome today I walk through the door Holding your hand You make me do What I don't understand A razor slashes innocence There is panic, heat, suffocating pain Where is God, Mommy and Daddy He holds the power, I'm left with shame My brother my hero You are much older than me Share with me secrets Baptize me in misery In my brothers room There is a mystery And the door latches tightly behind me As I leave ============================== MY FATHER'S BLESSING by Dave Osborne We just made it aboard before they stopped the ticket sales for the 5:30 PM departure of the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. Leaving my mother to wait at the bottom, my father and I were about to leave the heat of the desert to ascend over a mile up into the San Jacinto wilderness. I had wanted my blessing to take place in the woods, because it is the kind of country I love best. The problem had been figuring out how to make it happen since we were going to Yuma, Arizona that morning (not a woodsy sort of place by any means). That particular morning happened to be Father's Day. Father's Day seemed like a significant day to receive my blessing - and to give one. Since my father had never received a blessing either. The tram proved to be the perfect solution, being that it was in route on the way home from Yuma. I felt guilty leaving my mom by herself at the bottom, but this was something we men had to do on our own. Although I wished that this could have happened when I was an adolescent, I was glad that it was not too late. In fact, I don't believe anyone is ever really too old to receive a blessing. I think the idea of the blessing came to me as I was reading through the book of Genesis. I noticed how the patriarchs all gave a blessing to their sons. "I want a blessing from my dad," I thought. In fact, I had asked him for one the last time I saw him some eight months previous, but he didn't quite know what to do. This time, I had thought through what I wanted to happen and had shared that with him beforehand. The weather was beautiful. In less than fifteen minutes we were over 8,500 feet high. The sky was a rich blue with a few scattered clouds and the air was refreshingly cool. It was much more comfortable than the desert below. The beginning of our journey into the woods was a downhill trek. We hiked down the trail into a little valley and followed a small stream. "There's nothing like a mountain stream," I thought as we moved along at a fairly good clip. It seemed rather odd that we would go down first - not at all unlike the inward journey many of us need to embark on as men. My own inward quest involved allowing myself to look inside and feel my own pain in the context of individual counseling, support groups, attending workshops, and pertinent reading. I had also had several discussions with my father over the past several years in which we talked about our relationship. Some of those talks were difficult to initiate and painful to walk through, but they had helped pave the way for what was happening this Father's Day 1991. We left the trail and headed off on our own. I hated to leave the quiet stream, but it was time to climb. We scampered (well-maybe it wasn't quite a scamper) up to the top of the hill before us until we came upon a couple of dead trees and a large rock. Just beyond us was the edge of the ridge with a commanding view of the parched desert thousands of feet below. It was a little after 6:30 P.M. as we stood on the rock and began to sing one of my father's favorites: "Now I Belong to Jesus." We took turns choosing other hymns. He picked choruses like: "This is the Day," and "Seek ye First," while I chose "I Know Whom I Have Believed," "Living for Jesus," and "Majesty." After this bonding in song, we stood back-to-back feeling the support of each other. He faced the valley below while I faced the mountains. As we stood in this position we read several scriptures to each other which dealt with the Lord as our strength. I recalled Gordon Dalbey's illustration in Healing the Masculine Soul of how the Greeks went into battle with a battle partner. This battle partner would cover his colleagues back side. The Greek word for the battle partner is "paraclete." Our standing back to back not only symbolized my father and I covering each other in spirit (through prayer and support) but it also was a symbol of the Holy Spirit covering each of us with His protection. As my dad read, I stood tall, breathed deep, and felt strong. I shifted my weight occasionally as I gazed out over the mountains, just to feel my father's back against my own. We stood facing the mountains as we celebrated the Lord's Supper together. The elements were what some may call a bit crude. On the hike in I had realized that we had forgotten to bring anything for communion. To go back at that point would have set us back a good half hour or more, so we pushed on. I had a breath mint and some almond crumbs in my pocket and actually considered using them until I spotted a baby pine cone that had fallen to the ground. It just seemed like the "natural" thing to do. We each took a small piece of the pine cone along with a swig from my backpacking water bottle, and gave thanks. You know what? I think the Lord blessed it anyway! As I stood there with my dad, I reflected on how much things had changed. Sadly, I had grown up for many years not wanting to be like my father. Like my mom, I sometimes focused on his negative attributes. I sensed her disappointments and I must have decided at some level to imitate more of her characteristics. But by then, things had changed. Over the years, I have come to appreciate his many good qualities. In fact, I want to embrace my father. While growing up, I didn't get to spend as much individual time with him as I wanted to. I began to recognize and deeply feel the wounds which resulted from not being as close to my father as I wished I could have been. I also recognized just a little of the pain that my dad went through as a young boy. My father has a tremendous father wound himself. He can't remember his father ever telling him that he loved him, or ever even giving him a simple hug. He never had a model of what it means to be a father. And so I had gone to Yuma with him in a quest to hear some of his stories, visit some old haunts, and share some of his past with him. We stopped by the old four- room school house where he went to elementary school. We walked down main street and he showed me where the old pool hall used to be and told me of the countless hours he had spent there. He even told me a few of the wild escapades he experienced before he became a Christian. Our trip took us to a certain canal bank outside of town where my father, not yet ten years old, had walked with his mother and tried with all his might to convince her not to jump in and commit suicide. It still amazes me that he was willing to take me there. Later that afternoon we went and picked out a gift that he would give me up on the mountain the next day. After we had shared communion together I took the ring out of my pocket that I had bought for him and wished him a happy Father's Day. Boy was he surprised! While we had been strolling around downtown Yuma he had noticed a turquoise ring and took a liking to it until he saw the price tag. Later I managed to sneaked back to the store in order to buy it. Now standing face to face on the mountain, I placed my right hand on his shoulder and shared some symbolism about the ring with him. Referring to the silver band, I pointed out that God had refined his life as silver is refined (Psalm 66:10). The rock represented Jesus Christ, embedded in the center of his life. The ring was complete. While not perfect, it had been shaped into an object of beauty and value. I reminded dad that he is a man who has built his house upon the rock (Matthew 7:24,25) and has drunk deeply from the spiritual rock which is Jesus Christ (I Corinthians 10:4). I then shared with him several of the characteristics that I appreciated about him and wanted for my own. We both cried at various points through this time. I concluded by telling him that he had nothing to prove now, but much to give. We embraced. He wanted to save my gift until after he had blessed me. Placing his hand on my shoulder, he began my blessing. I had written out almost a page of things I wanted to hear from him and had asked that if he could genuinely say these things to please include them. I wanted to hear him tell me I was a man, that I was a part of him, that I had his genes, that he loved me, has always loved me, will always love me, and there is nothing I could do to ever change that. I asked him to compare me with an animal and he likened me to a bear, strong, brave, and protective. Hearing my dad tell me I was strong was very special for me. I had asked him to tell me there was no shame in my tears if I started to cry at any point during this time together. (I accurately anticipated that eventuality!) He told me tears are beautiful and a gift from God--only true men are able to cry. There were other life-giving words I heard from my father that day. We both cried at various points throughout that time and embraced again. My dad's gift to me was a beautiful, handmade frontier knife. It cost quite a bit, but I recall that he didn't bat an eye as I watched him pay for it earlier while we were still in Yuma. I'm so proud of that knife. It has become my most cherished possession because of all it represents. I had wanted a knife as a symbol of lifting the sword of truth. Dad commented about the steel being strong, sharp, and tempered, as he compared these things to my life. The sun was going down behind the mountains as dad gave me a blessing but there was still plenty of light. He prayed for me and then we stood side by side with our arms around each other and belted out all four verses of "How Great Thou Art" . I love that song. It has become a little tradition of mine to sing it whenever I'm on top of a mountain. On the way back down the mountain we reminisced about jumping from rock to rock down the rivers in Yosemite when I was a kid. Man was that fun! I said I still like jumping from rock to rock. I'm 37. You know what? He said he still does too! He's 62. I'm so grateful that I had the opportunity to experience this with my father. I'm also grateful for the talks we've had. Dad has not been defensive in our talks, but has listened to me and admitted when he was wrong. What a gift to a son! I will never forget my Father's blessing up there on the rugged mountain. My hope is that everyone, male or female, could have such an experience! I once heard of a lady who wasn't able to get a blessing from her father, so she asked a pastor whom she respected and trusted to give her a blessing. It certainly makes sense that the blessing of a father, a mother, or a significant other, would be a very special experience. At last we returned to the tram station just in time to catch the 8:00 p.m. run. As I left the mountain, I had paid special attention to where we had gone since leaving the trail. I marked spots in my mind and wrote down directions after I returned. You see, some day I want to return to that rock--with my son. wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww Dave Osborne, M.Div., M.S. - Dave is in private practice with Henslin & Assoc. as a marriage, family, child, counseling intern, He graduated from Talbot Seminary and is also on staff part-time at the First Evangelical Free Church in Fullerton, CA, where he works with 12-Step support groups. He can be reached at (714)-491-7886, Henslin & Assoc., 745 S. Brea Blvd, Brea, CA 92621 =============================== What Grows on the Family Tree?? by Dr. Earl Henslin As I drove up to the house I did not know what to expect. I was about to meet someone with whom I had only spoken to on the phone. Bill was a distant relative that my Great-Uncle back in Minnesota had told me of after he heard about our upcoming move to California. "Look up Bill Henslin in San Marino. He is a cousin of mine and I think you will like him." I was surprised to learn that I had any relatives in Southern California. Now I was at his door, about to meet a man who was the son of one of my great-grandfather's brothers. Someone who was actually acquainted with that whole generation of my family. He would have actually known my great-grandfather Frank Henslin who was born in 1852 exactly 100 years before me! I was excited to be able to meet this man who would be able to tell me more about the legacies within my family. I parked in front of his house and began to walk up the sidewalk to the front door. Before I was half way to the house, the door opened and a rather handsome and distinguished gentleman began to walk towards me. The little boy within me leaped inside with a feeling of warmth. Here was an older man who was looking forward to seeing me. He had a smile on his face, and he walked briskly, straight and tall. I recognized a life and energy about him from the first moment I saw him. It was something I was not used to seeing in the men in my family. He resembled both my grandfather (who had been dead since I was 18 years old) and my Great-uncle in Minnesota who had always been warm and kind to me. As he strode towards me he reached out his hand, grabbed mine and shook it warmly and gently. As He shook my hand he said, " I can tell you are a Henslin, you must be a fine young man!" He then smiled and said "my name is Bill, and I am most happy to meet you." For most people, it is an ordinary greeting. For me, however, it was an affirmation from a member of my family who was meeting me for the first time and had already assumed the good about me. In that initial interaction between us, which probably lasted a total of only 45 to 50 seconds, I had experienced more positive affirmation and direct messages of caring and warmth than I had from the generations of men that I had grown up with. The men in my family are hard working, good men. Unfortunately, they are also disconnected from their own feelings having grown up in dysfunctional families where the rule is men don't feel and do not know how to express their feelings. Compulsive work, eating, and other addictive diseases are the norm as it has been in many a mid-west farm family. Hard work is valued. Tolerating large amounts of physical and emotional pain is the rule. It is little wonder that so many of the men in my family have died of heart attacks - "Attacks of the heart" hearts that stop because they can no longer bare the pressure of all the pain. Men who keep the hurt deep inside and are nobly silent. The quiet warriors that are stoic and lack life is what I had to live up to. Sounds of hearty laughter and joy were rarely heard in the house of my youth. Strong arms that give warm hugs and which communicate safety and caring were never expressed to one another in our family. A spontaneous "I love you" between father and son just didn't happen. A father and son never experienced tears shared together. All these feelings are locked deep inside my father's and grandfather's hearts. My own feelings tell me they must have felt something, yet were unable to express it directly and clearly. Now in words and physical expression, the little boy in me was connecting with Bill and somehow telling me who I was in a way I had always longed for. When I had that experience with Bill, I also became aware of a deep sadness and grief, a sorrow that I had missed something significant in my experience with my father. It was not too many years later that a close friend and I went to hear Robert Bly. Bly talked about this grief as being the loss of never having connected at a feeling level with his father. The second thing he said was that it was the father's job in the family to build the emotional bridge to the son. The sadness and grief within me then deepened and I began to consciously know why no amount of food, or work (my two main addictions) could fill the hole in my soul this pain and grief had made. That part of the emptiness that I felt was the father wound - a wound that I shared with my father from his father, a wound that had been passed on between generations of men possibly for centuries. Caring men trying to fill their wounds with various addictions and co-dependent relationships, and shame-filled religion. These are often good men. Yet men deeply hurting, laboring and living with hurt and emptiness while feeling ALONE. The result is that relationships are being destroyed and the pain denied and handled by more distance and isolation. As I look back now I realize that my life has been characterized by the development of various relationships with men in an attempt to help fill the emptiness I was feeling. I may not have known precisely what I was doing, yet instinctively I was recognizing the need to be connected with men who had the capacity to express their feelings and were able to be affirming of me. Somehow I had been seeking to hear directly and clearly that I was okay and that my feelings had meaning. I longed to be confronted when I was taking a wrong turn or was in the process of shooting myself in the foot. I desired to be among men who would take time to pray with me and encourage me. More and more I became aware of a little boy inside me as an adult who needed to be cared for, and yet also initiated into the world of men. While recognizing the need for caring, love, and support, I also longed for a masculine influence that could step in and strongly confront and provide a timely kick in the pants - a sort of warrior-like strength which empowers that man to do what he needs to do. I needed to be shown how a man can utilize his fears to mobilize himself to action instead of being rendered helpless by them, enabling one to boldly step into trouble rather than run from it. I wanted to at last face the hurt and shame within, and take responsible steps in recovery rather than waiting for someone to rescue me while wallowing in a state of blame. The time had come for me to stop my habit of pointing at others as the reason I was not growing while avoiding the harder steps. For many men the first step in recovery of the father-son loss begins when they become a part of a group of men in a 12-Step group. All of us need sobriety from whatever addictions or co-dependent relationships we may be wrestling with and men can best accomplish this with other men. There is a different quality of sharing that occurs among men as opposed to when women are in the room as well. Masculine vulnerability has a different root and quality than feminine vulnerability. Men have a need to form a bond with other men in recovery. It is far easier to feel understood by a woman emotionally than by another man. In the early stages of recovery men are in danger of crossing boundaries with women from whom they get emotional support. It is better to find a 12-Step group of men or a men's group dealing with issues to be in. When we get a sponsor, work the program, and learn to use the tools, sobriety begins to occur. When sobriety comes, an atmosphere is set for the healing of the little boy within. The primary emotion is one of grief where we feel the loss of what was never or rarely there, the loss of connecting with the father. For me the beginning of the grief process was meeting Bill. When I encountered this older man and experienced his warmth and affirmation, I began to feel the sadness of what I never had. When I met Bill it was the conscious beginning of a process that God had started within me years earlier without my even knowing it. It was facilitated by my relationships with men that were encouraging me to take steps of growth. These series of relationships were meeting and filling some of the holes within that were a part of my own father wound. Throughout my teens, twenties, thirties and so on, I recognized that there was a need for a deep connection with men and I searched for the type of relationship that would touch the needs of the wounded little boy within. I longed to be initiated into the world of men - a world which for a long time I did not feel I belonged in. Somehow, I always felt too "young" for the job, and never adequate enough for the challenge. I was like an inadequate boy in a world of men. At times I was too naive and trusting only to learn that all too often men are not to be trusted. However, I have also come to see that finding a man you can trust is one of the most valuable and precious things in this world! In the Bible, King David describes his relationship with Jonathan: "His love is more wonderful (separate and distinguished) than the love of a woman." wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww Earl R. Henslin, Psy.D. - Earl is the director of Henslin & Assoc. He is a part time instructor in the doctoral clinical psychology program at Rosemead Graduate School of Psychology, Biola University, and is the author of "The Way Out of the Wilderness" (Thomas Nelson) and co-author of "Secrets of Your Family Tree" (Moody). He can be reached at (714)-491-7886, Henslin & Assoc., 745 S. Brea Blvd, Brea, CA 92621 ========================================= Tracks in the Sand is published by a small group of Christian men. We believe in the power of Jesus Christ to heal the whole person. We recognize that we as men often isolate ourselves in the belief that emotions are not appropriate for us to show, or even to have. Whether this is the result of abuse in our family of origin, or simply the pressure that society places on us as men, we have found that this isolation can result in shame, broken families, obsessive/compulsive behavior, depression, anxiety, addictions, lack of intimacy, people-pleasing, rage, eating disorders, workaholism, stress, and many other unhealthy behaviors. When we began to talk amongst ourselves, we realized that we were not alone. As we continued to share our stories with each other, the prison walls which held us captive began to crumble. This process was not without pain, but we found that as a result of our honesty we were able to have more satisfying, healthy relationships with God and others. It is our desire to provide a vehicle for men to share the pain that has been locked up inside of them for years. By doing so we can break the power of shame and condemnation. We encourage the formation of men's small groups where each participant can bring his innermost secrets into the light and allow other men of faith to minister truth, healing and acceptance in a safe environment of confidentiality. We aspire to give and receive "Fathering" and "Brothering" which many of us have never previously received. The name, TRACKS IN THE SAND, comes from the idea of following someone who has been where we are going, felt what we are feeling and experienced what we are living, It is His tracks that we are following. We hope you join us as a fellow tracker. All articles are copyrighted and remain the property of the author. Permission to reprint is granted as long as credit is given to both the author and Tracks in the Sand. This publication is supported completely by donations from its readers who, thus, help offset the cost of printing and mailing. If you would like additional copies of this newsletter, or would like to be put on our mailing list, or wish to make a financial contribution or submit an article for publication, please contact us at our address below. There are no subscription fees. You can get "Tracks" free by sending us your name and address. However, "Tracks" is funded by your donations. Please consider sending a contribution. Unsolicited material will not be returned unless accompanied by a self-address, stamped envelope. (714)-751-1012 Editors: Gary Kalus, Peter Jacobs Asst. Editors: Bill Faris, Mark Jasper, & Don Reid SPECIAL THANKS TO CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS: Dr. Earl Henslin, Dave Osborne, Jon David Roberts, & Gordon Dalbey