Men of Courage: God’s Call to Move Beyond the Silence of Adam

By Larry Crabb, Don Michael Hudson and Al Andrews

Men today have locked horns with their toughest issue: reclaiming the full potential of manhood. Bestselling author Dr. Larry Crabb asks, What gives manhood definition and meaning?

In this updated and expanded edition of The Silence of Adam, Crabb and his colleagues, biblical scholar Don Hudson and counselor Al Andrews, offer a fresh look at how God designed men. The book deals thoughtfully and honestly with men's ongoing struggles and exposes the difficulties they have in relationships. It presents the rich calling men have to reveal God in ways uniquely masculine. And it summons them beyond their paralyzing fear of failure to bold risk-taking, courageous action, deep spirituality, and full-hearted living.

This new edition includes:

• Epilogue from Dr. Larry Crabb
• Study Guide (Individual or Group Format Use)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zondervan
• Release date: May 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9780310336976

Larry Crabb

Dr. Larry Crabb is a well-known psychologist, conference and seminary speaker, Bible teacher, popular author, and founder/director of NewWay Ministries. He is currently Scholar in Residence at Colorado Christian University in Denver and Visiting Professor of Spiritual Formation for Richmont Graduate University in Atlanta. Dr. Crabb and his wife of forty-six years, Rachael, live in the Denver, Colorado area. For additional information please visit www.newwayministries.org

Book preview

Men of Courage

God’s Call to Move Beyond the Silence of Adam

DR. LARRY CRABB

WITH DON HUDSON AND AL ANDREWS

To Our Sons

Kep and Ken

Michael

Hunter

May we father you well

Contents

Cover

Title page

Preface

Adam Remained Silent When He Should Have Spoken

Introduction Three Men on the Move

THE STORY BEGINS

Larry Crabb

Don Hudson

Al Andrews

PART ONE SOMETHING SERIOUS IS WRONG: THE DREAM IS LOST

Chapter 1 A Vision for Men

Chapter 2 Authentic and Inauthentic Men

Chapter 3 Recipe Theology

Chapter 4 Entering Darkness

Chapter 5 From Chaos to Chaos

Chapter 6 A Call to Remember

Chapter 7 He Was There and He Was Silent

Conclusion to Part One

PART TWO SOMETHING VITAL IS MISSING: THE PROBLEMS OF MASCULINE COMMUNITY

Chapter 8 Men Who Fight the Darkness

Chapter 9 The Way Inauthentic Men Relate

Chapter 10 Men Who Demand Others Come Through for Them

Chapter 11 Men Who Need Only Themselves: The Passion of Toughness

Conclusion to Part Two

PART THREE SOMETHING POWERFUL IS AVAILABLE: A GENERATION OF MENTORS

Chapter 12 Fathers: Men Who Believe in Us

Chapter 13 Brothers: Men Who Share Secrets

Chapter 14 The Dream Restored: A Generation of Mentors

THE STORY CONTINUES

Al Andrews

Don Hudson

Larry Crabb

Discussion Guide

Acknowledgments

About the Authors

Copyright

About the Publisher

Share Your Thoughts

Preface

Larry Crabb

*

Nearly a thousand men recently gathered at a conference that was designed to connect men in real, authentic relationships. I know the leaders of the conference. They are aware that one thousand men sitting face forward in a large convention center listening to a speaker is not the definition of connecting. They also know that meaningful friendships develop only during one-on-one conversations or in small groups where men relate authentically with each other, which few men actually do. And the conference organizers realize that courage — the kind of courage that frees men to move deeply into other people’s lives — grows in connected community.

The conference was meant to serve as a launching pad into a new kind of relating for men. But I came away from that event wondering if the men had a clear idea of what masculine relating looks like. It occurred to me that, in order for men to speak into the lives of their spouse, children, friends, and colleagues, three things were needed.

1.  Men need a vision of what it means to come alive as men in relationships.

2.  Men need to know, recognize, and be willing to talk about the obstacles to living the vision — the fears and wounds and stubbornness that get in the way of becoming alive in their manhood.

3.  Men need to be able to identify a well-marked pathway that will lead them into the meaning and satisfaction of living fully alive as men.

Allow me to elaborate on these three needs by telling you about a few of the men I met at the conference.

I met a young entrepreneur who is making it big: position, recognition, power, and money. He asked me why he felt so driven to climb the ladder to the top. This sincere young man needs to know that in the middle of legitimate business success, he must aim higher. He needs to see a vision of what it means to be a success as a man who bears the image of a relational God. As we thought together about such a vision, he openly acknowledged, This way of thinking is new to me.

I spoke with a middle-aged high school teacher who likes his work and is well liked by his students. He was twice up for teacher of the year in his school district. Perhaps because I’m a psychologist, he let me know that his marriage is not strong and that he struggles often with feeling empty and seeing himself as a failure. He had no idea what was wrong with his marriage or why he was feeling such painful emotions. He needs to understand what is going on in his heart and soul that is getting in the way of living in the joy of manhood, as a husband and teacher.

A retired CEO of a multi-billion dollar company approached me. He stays active in what he is good at, consulting, and with what he would like to do well, mentoring. With deep passion, he told me he feels a chronic undercurrent of despair — he called it angst — that he cannot explain or manage. He needs to find a path that runs through his dark night with the promise of light ahead.

Do you recognize your own experience in any of these stories?

The book you’re about to read paints a vision of true masculinity, of what it looks like to reveal the character of God by the way you relate. It grapples honestly with what all men struggle with and most deny, all the inner-world wounds, inadequacies, and proud competitiveness that block men from living the vision. And it calls men to a path that the Bible lays out for men to walk, a path they will want to walk when they see a vision of who they could become. It’s a path that leads to the abundant life that Jesus came to give.

As you read Men of Courage, I pray you will be called to a new way of relating, one that gives you courage to move into chaos. Catch the vision. Confess the obstacles. Commit to walking the road to life. Let’s walk together in the confidence that we are becoming who we most long to be, and the men our family and friends are waiting for.

* Except where otherwise indicated, the primary narrative in the book is written by me, Larry Crabb. Contributions by Al Andrews and Don Hudson are noted in the text.

Adam Remained Silent When He Should Have Spoken

Where was Adam when the serpent tempted Eve? The Bible says that after Eve was deceived by Satan, she took some of the forbidden fruit … and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, WHO WAS WITH HER [emphasis added], and he ate it (Genesis 3:6).

Was Adam there the whole time? Was he standing right next to his wife while the serpent tricked her with his cunning? Was he there, listening to every word?

If he was — and there is good reason to think so — then a big question must be asked: WHY DIDN’T HE SAY ANYTHING?

Before God created Eve, he had already commanded Adam to never eat from a certain tree. Adam was expected to pass on the prohibition to his wife when she appeared on the scene. We assume he did so.

But when the serpent struck up a conversation with Eve designed to muddle her thinking about God’s goodness, Adam said nothing. Yet he was listening to every word! He heard Eve misquote the command of God that he, Adam, had carefully communicated to her. He was watching when she began looking at the forbidden tree. He saw her take a step toward the tree and reach out to pluck some of its fruit. And he didn’t do a thing or say one word to stop her. Adam remained silent! Why?

Remember, Eve was deceived by the snake, but Adam wasn’t (1 Timothy 2:14). He knew what was going on. Perhaps he should have said, "Now, wait just one minute here! Honey, this snake is up to no good. I can see right through his devilish cunning. He’s deceiving you into thinking you have more to gain from disobeying God than by remaining faithful to him. That’s a lie!

Let me tell you exactly what God said to me before he made you. And look around us. This is Paradise. God made it and gave it all to us. We have no reason to doubt his goodness. And then, turning away from Eve: Snake, this conversation is over. Take off!

But Adam said nothing. He stood there, heard and watched the whole thing, and didn’t say a word. He failed the woman he loved. He failed, in his first spiritual struggle, to represent God. He failed as a man!

The silence of Adam is the beginning of every man’s failure, from the rebellion of Cain to the impatience of Moses, from the weakness of Peter down to my failure yesterday to love my wife well. And it is a picture — a disturbing but revealing one — of the nature of our failure. Since Adam every man has had a natural inclination to remain silent when he should speak. A man is most comfortable in situations in which he knows exactly what to do. When things get confusing and scary, his insides tighten and he backs away. When life frustrates him with its maddening unpredictability, he feels the anger rise within him. And then, filled with terror and rage, he forgets God’s truth and looks out for himself. From then on, everything goes wrong. Committed only to himself, he scrambles to make his own life work. The result is what we see every day: sexual passions out of control, uninvolved husbands and fathers, angry men who love to be in the driver’s seat. And it all began when Adam refused to speak.

Men are uniquely called to remember what God has said and to speak accordingly, to move into dangerous uncertainty with a confidence and wisdom that comes from listening to God. Instead, like Adam, we forget God and remain silent.

And Satan keeps winning too many victories: in our society, in our churches, and in the lives of our wives, children, and friends. It is time for men to recover their voices, to listen to God — and to speak.

Introduction

Three Men on the Move

This book is written by three growing but struggling men — men who openly confess that our struggles seem to deepen as our lives continue. Our lives are simply not together the way the Christian culture seems to think they should be. Christian men, especially those in leadership, are expected to feel consistently encouraged, to be passionate about their vision, and to have very few problems. Mature men aren’t supposed to struggle with crazy thoughts, sinful urges, or despairing feelings. But we think they do.

Our view of spiritual manhood has more to do with continuing to function in spite of difficulties than with successfully overcoming them. We believe that God’s Spirit is less interested in telling us how to get our lives together, and more concerned with stirring — in the middle of our ongoing difficulties — our passion for Christ. Rather than solving our problems, he more often uses them to unsettle us, to make us less sure of how life works, to provoke us to ask the hard questions we’re terrified to ask, to surface the stubborn doubts and ugly demands that keep us distant from Christ.

We don’t believe the Bible provides a plan for making life work as we think it should. We think it offers a reason to keep on going even when life doesn’t work that way. If we could find formulas that actually worked — formulas for getting over anger or producing godly kids or feeling closer to our wives — we’d follow them. But we don’t think they exist. In our thinking, real men admit their fear of confusion but don’t run from it into an easy confidence or step-by-step plan.

We’re more drawn to the mystery of life than to its predictability. Not because we especially like feeling confused and out of control. It’s hard to feel that way. Sometimes we hate it. But we don’t think we have a choice, not if we’re honest with ourselves as we face life.

Some parts of life, of course, are orderly and manageable. Cars don’t run without gas; flossed teeth develop fewer problems; families don’t get along as well without an involved husband and father. Things that are doable should be done. Where life can be managed, it should be managed well.

But the most important parts of life, those parts that make up what Christianity is all about, seem to us more mysterious than manageable, more chaotic than orderly. What do you do when you find out your daughter was sexually abused by a baby-sitter? How do you handle nagging jealousy toward a friend who makes more money than you do? What can you do with an immoral fantasy life that just won’t quit? How do you get close to God when everything inside feels dead? How does the Spirit of God bring us to the Father’s home, where the party is going on?

There simply aren’t any formulas to follow in handling the things that matter most. And we think God designed it that way, not to frustrate or discourage but to call something out of us that he has already put in us, something that is released only when we abandon ourselves to him in the midst of mystery. Spiritual manhood involves the courage to keep on moving — in the middle of overwhelming confusion — toward relationships. It has little to do with figuring out exactly what works and then doing it.

We write this book as three men living out unfinished stories. We wrestle with questions no one answers. We fail in ways we thought we’d be done with by now. We battle ugly desires within us, including the urge to quit when life wears us down. We struggle to live in community with each other.

But still we’re hopeful. Maybe our lives are moving toward a kind of maturity that will open our mouths and leave Satan speechless. We entertain that hope because, even though we’re confused, sometimes discouraged, and occasionally desperate, we’re still moving toward our wives, our kids, our friends, and our God.

We don’t always move well, and at times we stop. But never as a permanent adjustment. And this is our core message: MANHOOD MEANS MOVING — not always success, not even victory, but moving, the kind of movement that only a passionate, consuming, Spirit-directed fascination with Christ can produce. And that is true victory.

Permit us to introduce ourselves to you: three men, each with a story to tell — stories of sadness, joy, failure, success, boredom, passion, vengeance, and love. Join us in thinking through what it means to be a man, to live as God intended men to live.

The Story Begins

Larry Crabb

The kid in the front row with the rascally grin — that one on the far left — is me at age four. It is a strange feeling to look at myself more than sixty years later and wonder what lay behind that attention-grabbing smile. My mind drifts from that picture and wanders off in several directions.

I remember when I was about thirty. I had just led a Bible study in Phil and Evelyn’s living room. During the social time that followed, I grabbed a piece of Evelyn’s cake and made the rounds. I can see myself joking, teasing, entertaining — engaging each of the folks I had just taught, with what my memory tells me was a noisy grin, not unlike the one in the picture. After everyone left but my wife and I, Evelyn approached me with a knowing, somewhat troubled look.

I think I know why you act like a clown sometimes, she said.

I immediately felt caught, more than a little unnerved. But I managed to remain casual. Okay, why?

Because it relieves the pressure of being the man you are.

Another memory. I was maybe twelve. On vacation with my parents and brother, I was spending the night in a log-cabin motel in the mountains of upper New York, just outside the sleepy village of Schroon Lake. My bed was the top bunk. A window opened onto the moonlit lake bordered by a thousand pine trees.

I remember lying on my bunk, staring out the window, utterly caught up in the majesty of the scene. An irresistible sense that I was part of something big, something beautiful, crept into my awareness. In all my life, it was perhaps the closest thing to a call from God I ever heard. I knew that I fit, I knew that I was part of a larger story, and I felt stirred. I had something to give that would make a difference.

I was thrilled, excited; I felt lifted up into a dimension I had never before seen. But I was also frightened, terrified with a fear that wanted to paralyze me.

Another memory comes to mind as I write. As a child growing up in Plymouth Meeting, a tiny suburb of Philadelphia, my bedroom was at the end of a long hallway. One night I was lying in bed, reading my Bible. I was perhaps thirteen. I heard Dad’s footsteps coming toward my room. I quickly hid my Bible beneath the sheets and grabbed a comic book.

Dad would have been delighted to see me reading the Bible. Why did I deny him that joy? Why did I prefer to be seen with a comic book?

Ask Mother what I was like as a youngster, and — as she has done many times — she will immediately reply, with a look of fond exasperation, He was a rascal!

During my growing-up years, all the way through high school and college, I worked hard to be silly. No one who knew me then ever guessed that I felt called by God and that I read my Bible. The fact that I write serious books rather than cartoons has surprised most of my teenage friends.

Have I been trying for years, from kindergarten on, to hide my substance behind nonsense? Did I joke with our Bible study friends to keep them from taking me too seriously? Did the notion that I had something to say to this world terrify me? Was I a rascal in order to run away from a primitively sensed calling to be a man, to deny the dreams that were forming within me?

Maybe I’m still a rascal, still grinning as I sit in the front row of my community. I wonder if the prospect of moving into my world as the person I know I am still terrifies me, perhaps enrages me, and leaves me feeling isolated, disconnected, lonely. These thoughts enter my mind as I stare at the grinning four-year-old that was — and perhaps still is — me.

As I keep looking at the picture, an entirely different line of thinking comes to mind. I have no recollection of it, but I cannot imagine the Sunday school teacher was especially pleased with my rascally smile. If I close my eyes and visualize her presumed disapproving look, I can feel a strange pleasure, a definite feeling of satisfaction. I’ve never felt I was a part of my peer group. I’ve never easily bowed beneath standards. Perhaps I like it that way. A little rebellion tastes good.

Maybe there is a good kind of rebellion, a spunkiness, a courage to live authentically, even at the cost of not fitting in. Maybe it is the courage to dream. Whatever it is, I like it.

A little honest reflection makes me think I’m an iconoclast, a nonconformist, a radical with short hair and a navy blazer. A seminary employed me as a professor for seven years — and then asked me to leave. My presence did not sit well with some of their constituency. Looking back, I can see a hundred things I said and did that would understandably trouble them. Many of those things were immature, and some were sinful; a few I would do again.

Releasing who I am feels like dangerous business. I just may be a rebellious rascal, with a mischievous grin on my face, more often than I realize. But neither rebellion nor rascalness defines me. Something else is more central to my being. I am a masculine reflection of the character of God.

I was designed to move into and through my world with laughter and hope. I am called to concern myself less with conformity than with integrity, less with fitting in and more with the visions of a dreamer. The lightness of hope’s laughter and the courage to stand alone as dreams are pursued are marks of a man.

Clowning is cheapened laughter. Clowns smirk. Men laugh. Rebellion is corrupted integrity. Rebels destroy. Men give life. I want to be neither clown nor rebel, but I do not want to avoid these two errors so rigorously that I lose the good qualities they disguise. I do not want to be a predictable conformist, caught up in something that requires less of me than I am called to give. I don’t want a fantasy life that I can enjoy without ever getting off the