did I get shot or shoot myself...

***This post is part of a series which started on April 12^th. This series is an exploration of masculinity which I think is  valuable to both sexes based off a book about men titled Iron John by Robert Bly with quotes in italics.***

It really all seemed to happen before I knew it even though it had been coming for a few years. “Did I get shot or shoot myself” is a lyric written by Jon Foreman and it is a question I have asked myself many times. The answer is “yes.” I went down at the hands of life (perhaps God) and by my own hands.  Bly explores different “stages” in the life of the masculine soul. These do not come in a preordained order, but they often are found in a particular sequence.

Bly often refers to “flyers.” These are usually young men who are

“grandiose and naïve…shiny faced, expectant, hopeful, dandified, a prince. One day he is in college being fed and housed- often on someone else’s money- protected by brick walls men long dead have built, and the next day he is homeless, walking the streets looking for some way to get a meal or bed.”

This is the Descent.  This is where one goes from an upward momentum driven by successes and an expectation that the ascending trajectory will continue because of who he is and his ability to make the right decisions. At times, a blessed life can become a demanded right. In part, my demand for blessing came through faulty theology that simplified the Christian life to a formula driven by morals: know right + do right = be right. God must honor the formula or what good is an attempted “relationship” with Him?

 Then, the descent comes. “After the Descent, an old man takes the place of the prince. It is as if life itself somehow discharges [you]”  It can feel like an unavoidable force lurking around the edges of your soul moving in and covering more ground with each attempt to resist it. If you haven’t been there you have no idea what I am talking about. Seven years ago I didn’t.

I’ve been a flyer, felt like a prince and expected to conquer life quickly, admirably and continually. But, my climb up the track turned out to be the roller coaster’s beginning hill that is necessary for the big drop.  I’ll spare you all the details of my sad story in fear that you will either question the very existence of God in the face of my horrible plight or you will call me a whining baby (We only respond in extremes right?). The Descent causes questioning. As I alluded to before, it can take place at the hands of others, the nature of life itself, the discipline of God, or one's own mistakes. Usually it is a mixture of all of those. I find my self cautious in talking about the Descent in terms of God doing this for my own good. That can be true and Hebrews 12 explores it, but so often we say that in a self serving way as if our own ugliness isn’t the real problem and that God is just doing it for a greater purpose. He has a greater purpose indeed, but don’t let that fact gloss over the parts of you that are not of His original intentions. The Descent is necessary because you have a problem(s).

We avoid it, plan against it, pray against it, deny it…”we refuse to go down and so a hand comes up and pulls us down. People know immediately when you are falling or have fallen: doormen turn their backs, waiters sneer, no one holds the subway car door for you.”  I remember one time during a 6 month unemployment approaching a wealthy business man at church asking him to keep me in mind if he saw any opportunity not only for an opening but for a simple side job that needed done here or there. I didn’t expect him to have something to offer right then and there, but I did expect at least a simple “I will and I hope things will work out for you soon.” He didn’t and his look and reaction felt like a kick to the gut when I had no self-respect left to block the blow. In the Descent, expectations are a downward escalator.

The Descent does have a purpose. The only way out of it is through it. We often “transfer weights from one pocket to another in order to keep the boat balanced”, but the weight remains the same. There is not just “something to learn” in the Descent. It is where transformation needs to take place. The youthful naivety of “flying” needs to be replaced by an older soul. “The naïve man who flies directly toward the sun will not be able to see his own shadow. It is far behind him. In the [Descent] it catches up.”  

Avoidance of one’s shadow prolongs the Descent or one simply arrives at a state of “numbness.” This is where the masculine soul of many has gone to whither. “Some women feel hurt when a man will not ‘express his feelings’ and they conclude he is holding back…but it is more likely that when a man asks such a question of his chest, he gets no answer at all.”  

The Descent will magnify the dark or shallow regions of your soul and demand a response.  The Descent demands a “heroic exit through [it]. For young men who have graduated from privileged colleges, or have been lifted upward by the expensive entitlement culture, their soul life often begins with this basement work in the kitchen.”  Many who love you will try to shelter you from it, convince you that you are ok and it is mostly in your mind, and most will wonder what is wrong with you.  Don’t listen to them. Listen to the voice that come along side you as you go through it. Listen to a guide who demands you face it and yourself as well.

I have felt the invisible pull of the Descent and wondered if God was bent on ruining me. He was. I have been naïve and even numb, avoiding my shadow and convincing myself that its’ haunting was just my imagination. I do not believe the Descent is over as if my soul has found the extent of its depth or as if that quest will ever be completed. But, at least three things have taken place; my masculine soul has become less numb and naïve. I have found more inner peace, joy and soulfulness through this deepening that is not a result of outside circumstantial comfort and I am able to “go down” more willingly and face the task of exiting through the Descent instead of the destructive work of trying to avoid it.  When I see a younger man on the brink of it, I am afraid for him.