I try to read opinions that are different than mine. At first that sounds really noble, but then you ask me why I do it, and I might tell you it’s so I can note how irrational those other views are compared to me. So not that noble.
One of the reasons I believe we [Mars Hill Church] were named [as a place to meet singles] among such places as gyms, bars, and (naturally) dog parks—there are more dogs per capita in Seattle than kids—is because we tend to verbally beat boys who can shave (men who are adults chronologically but kids in terms of responsibility) like drill sergeants. The ones who don’t leave to blog about their hurt feelings tend to stay, grow up, man up, and eventually get married to a nice gal who would like to have babies but does not want to be married to one.
I usually ignore Mark Driscoll. It makes my life easier, and certainly, he has said things stranger than the above quote. I have never had dinner with Mark Driscoll. I have never had coffee with him or lunch or any other sort of social meal. But I have the strong suspicion that he would make fun of me if we did meet. That hurts my feelings and makes me want to blog.
A long time ago, I had a project where I was trying to figure out what manhood meant. How did boys become men? What I discovered on that journey is that there is a social process and an inner process. In the social process, manhood is judged on these outside things (which are all really silly socially constructed arbitrary goals), but in the inner process, we learn how to respect ourselves and develop a cool self-confidence. That’s not really unique to men, though; that’s how girls become women, too.
I don’t know. I think I fear sometimes that we are going to limit what being a man means. Why can’t a man talk about his feelings on his blog?