Battle For The King
Sometimes you read something that really hits your spirit. I had that happen today. My son Evan wrote this and put it on his facebook page. As Christian men, we must be prepared to battle for the King.
I am primal. I am fervant. I will not be held down by the stereotypes this modern world has
fashioned for men. My heart cries out from the chasm, from depths I’ve long thought were lost. “Come at me!”, I cry at the darkness. At least give me the chance to prove I am worthy- worthy to be called a man, a son of the King. Bring me a battle and I’ll not let you down. Give me that chance, though all the world has left such things and succumbed to a somber dullness called ‘proper’. I am wild, and cannot be tamed no matter how many chains you put on me. I beat my chest and lash out at the calm ones, the ones that gave up their instinctual rights and caved to political correctness. I will not be bought. I will not be told what I should or should not do- not any more. I am primal once again, the rescuer of those in distress- the hero of my own story. I am a servant to the Most High, and to the shadows I yell with the strength of all those men who went before me- for in those shadows lie the cunning heart takers. Though they may break me, I’ll never bend for them- not in this life or the one to come. As I’ve said, I fight for the King- the One who made me primal. Evan Dawson
I’m so glad you posted this!!! I know he’s our son, but this makes ME want to do serious battle. Christian women are warriors, too, especially mothers. I fight on my knees.
Thanks Dad,
I’m honored that you would use your bandwidth to post this feeble attempt at expressing the unexpressable 🙂 In response to my Facebook post, my friend Christian (one of the ‘men’ in my accountability group) wrote this (pretty amazing):
Primal. Feral. I wonder what relevance these words hold for modern men. Don’t certain realities dictate how far away we stray from these ancient and genetic birth rights? Or is that just quitter talk? Is reality the excuse we lean on when we know something crucial is missing from our lives? We blame modern thought and modern pressures for our inability to maintain contact with who we were created to be. Society is the greatest of all scapegoats. So vast and faceless is society, so impersonal are the collective decisions made, the ease of blame falls quickly from our lips. It’s they, or them. It’s everyone else’s fault but our own for the lingering weaknesses that stalk us, as head hits pillow.
So what is it chasing me? Who is the stalker that whispers violent thoughts into my brain? Who is the muse who orders me to plot destruction? What sadistic archetype conjures up bloody war scenes where I get scars and earn the right to relate stories of glorious conquest? This isn’t merely learned behavior. This can’t be blamed on environment or violent video games. In my heart I lust for challenge and struggle. In my dreams I beg the cosmos for the chance to wage war, of any kind, in a noble quest to make things right. And who decides what is right? The author of time. The creator of the universe. In God’s image I was created. His brutal battle hardened heart beats wildly in my chest. He decides what is right and wrong, and I decide to follow Him.
I can’t help but wonder, if Jesus came to bring a sword of division, why is the church offering me a foam bat of silent capitulation? This is why I categorically reject the fluffy carpeted, ornate foyers of modern churches. I loathe the marketing theory applied to the morning announcement on the overhead projector. I regurgitate, with violent retching spasms of righteous anger, soggy handshakes and overused platitudes. I grip, with shaking and scarred hands, the lower lip of your fake smile and rip it from your phony face. Since when did board members usurp the authority of the Holy Spirit? When did a committee wrestle control of the universe from a perfect King? How did reverent worship descend into nothing more than a seeker based holy show?
Again, no doubt, we blame reality. We lean on the ever shifting whims of worldly opinion. I say, though, that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I say I am a son of Adam. Failure may flow through my veins, but so does the blood of the tamer of the wild world. The beasts bare the names given to them by men. My heart bears the name of the author of creation. Tomorrow I may surrender to weakness. Tomorrow I may, in passive silence, fail to confront the unknown, but today I chase after the Son. Today I am a man of God.
love this. after robert the bruce had died, at his request, James Douglas took his heart from his body and carried it on crusade. At one point, the battle loomed around him and douglas threw robert’s heart into the midst of his enemies and cried – Fight for the heart of your king!
that’s what we signed up for!
Evan: I just keep on being proud of you – and mainly for your convictions and the action behind them.
hey bruce
was just thinking have you folks come up with a prioritized wish list for haithi?
thanks
tim