Their locker room prattle may not hold you spellbound, but it will not insult. Godly men. The ones that do the next right thing. Fathers, husbands, grampas, brothers, sons, grandsons, friends, even strangers. Powerful men who unknowingly serve as an antidote for a menagerie of hurts. Godly Men Rock
I love the men of my church. The church dudes. Through them I have witnessed healing, straight from God’s heart. Strong men who use their strengths for good. Heroes to those who witness their kindness, like… Godly Men Rock
The brow beaten widow, who lives with hurtful words. A lurking, haunting inheritance.
The invisible, fatherless son shadowed in a hoody, desperate for attention, acceptance…words imagined from a caring dad.
The guy, in the back pew, face cradled in palms who believes he’s less than. Godly Men Rock
The twenty-something beauty with a history of predator beaus.
The mother whose grown son, no longer calls.
The recovering alcoholic who’s burned all bridges leading anywhere else, but here.
And so on. People hurt by men from the past, present and the potential future. Godly Men Rock
Before I go on, here’s my disclaimer: Godly Men Rock
You might find a lone turkey in the woods, but the gang is hanging at the turkey farm. Likewise, it’s more likely to find a healthy flock of good men at church. Just saying. You’re welcome to put on your Elmer Fudd hat and hunt elsewhere. Also, I’m aware of men in churches who do more harm than good. Sadly, they have power as well. But they are not whom I choose to celebrate.
Kind men… good men… hold mighty tools in their righteous hands. When they give time to a lonely child, speak softly to a down- trodden woman, or place a gentle arm around their wife’s shoulders. When they fix the widow’s fence, stand up for a bullied boy, or encourage the shy to shine. When they lift hands to praise and bend knees to pray. Even when they tell a goofy joke, laugh like goons, and repeat.
I’m watching. You’re watching. And if we’ve been hurt by past ill-examples of good character, we experience healing. I know I do. They’re not the men we avoid on the corner, or the internet, or the big mouths spouting demeaning tales. They are different, set apart, special. Not just on Sundays, but 24/7.
A few months back I wrote “The Ladies who Church,” determining, church is a verb. I realize now, men “church” as well. They are action figures with Bibles instead of capes. In closing I ask that you tell a good man in your circle how much you appreciate their character. These men deserve our praise.