“Kenny, take a look,” my friend Benji said, pointing to the driver’s side door. What I saw rocked my world that Sunday morning—a smashed-in quarter panel on my car. “What are you going to do?” he asked.
It was the summer before my freshmen year in college. My friends and I had found a dirt parking lot perfectly suited for making “doughnuts” with our parents’ cars. We slammed on our accelerators and then jammed on the brakes while yanking the steering wheel so that our cars would spin in big circles. We cranked up the music and laughed our heads off.
Then it happened. My car—actually, my mom’s—kissed a railroad tie. While it was just a “touch,” I ended up denting the driver’s side door. Now I was in deep linguine.
My first impulse was practical—save my own skin! I had several hours to do something since my parents were gone that morning, so Benji and I drove Mom’s car to “Auto Row” to see if any dealerships were open. No luck—all we saw were signs saying Closed on Sundays. I was about to give up hope when I spotted Stevens Creek Auto Body at the end of a long alley. In the distance, I could see a guy working under a car. He was my first glimmer of hope.
After explaining my deep doo-doo dilemma, the mechanic agreed to help me escape the wrath of Godzilla, otherwise known as Dad. Benji and I wheeled Mom’s Capri with the crushed quarter panel into the operating room, knowing that I was placing my future in the hands of a complete stranger named Ole (a Scandinavian name pronounced Oh-lay). I knew nothing about bodywork, but what I witnessed over the next few hours scared the living daylights out of me.
First, Ole drilled holes in the dented door to try to pull it out, but that didn’t work.
Next, he filled the dent with Bondo, a pasty mixture of water and powder. He spread the Bondo into the two-foot-long dent like peanut butter on fresh bread. The mixture went on sloppy, but it dried quickly and out of shape.
Ole then sanded the dried Bondo, which proceeded to take off some of the original paint on the door panel. “Not to worry,” he said. “We’ll paint over it.”
“Can you match the color?” I asked. The Capri was a bluish-green hue.
“Sure, but I’ll have to go to an auto parts store,” he said. We accompanied him and watched Ole purchase two different shades of spray paint, which raised my blood pressure. I questioned him about using two different colors, but he said he planned to combine the colors to achieve a color match. Oh, mama! I thought. I’m dead meat now.
For almost three hours I was a mess. My face grimaced with each step of the process. I couldn’t bring myself to trust this guy. With each step he took, he looked like he was doing more damage to the car, not repairing it. I wondered if this guy really knew what he was doing because:
• He didn’t look like the sharpest tool in the box.
• His body shop methods didn’t make sense. After Plan A (pulling the dented door panel out) didn’t work, he was going to Plan B (using Bondo and spray paint).
• When he bought two cans of spray paint with colors that didn’t match the color of Mom’s paint job, I really questioned his abilities. He also didn’t appear that confident to me.
• He said it would only cost me $75. How good could he be?
Then Ole started displaying the master’s touch. He sanded the Bondo-filled door until it looked like a perfect match of the old driver’s door, and then he started laying down alternate layers of paint. My doubts turned to hopeful confidence. It turned out that he knew exactly what he was doing the whole time (I later learned he worked exclusively on Porsche body repairs), so the repair on the Capri turned out perfect. For an added bonus, he saved my sorry seventeen-year-old rear end.
The way I saw it at the time, though, I was putting my future into the hands of another person. That felt very risky! I certainly didn’t trust him to make Mom’s car look as good as new, but Ole did. I had to let go and give in to the process, even though I doubted his skills to fix my problem. Fortunately, Ole knew better than to listen to someone as ignorant as me.
These days, there are times when I feel the way Ole must have felt about me. I will have a young guy bring his problems into my “shop” and ask for help. He has usually dented more than a door panel: he has crashed into a tree because he was blinded by his sin. Now that his life has been wrecked, he’s asking what can be done. I know what he should do—get back on God’s highway, but that means driving in a manner that will keep him on the straight and narrow.
For some, staying on God’s highway makes them uncomfortable. They don’t like being confined to a route God has laid out for their lives. But their discomfort can be a good thing—a sure sign that an inner spiritual battle is raging for control of their lives.
I believe that when you wreck your life, your pride will drive you, your fear will deter you, or your faith will direct you. Let’s take a closer look at these three possibilities.
I often see many young men respond to God’s plan with youthful pride—an “I know better” attitude that is the equivalent of trash-talking. Think about what happened to me at that auto body shop. What if I said, “Hey Ole, can you step aside and listen while I give you a few pointers on how Mom’s car should be fixed? After all, I’ve been driving for a whole year. Let me show you how a real pro gets it done.”
Their mind-set and actions seem to say: “Thanks for coming along for the ride, God, but I’ll take the wheel from here.”
You’re probably saying, Yeah, right. Actually, the best thing I did that morning was shut my pie hole and let Ole do what he does best.
Or think of your favorite hobby, sport, or kind of music. Who do you think is the top dog—that one person excelling above the competition in that sport or field? Got him (or her) in your head? Now, picture yourself stepping into his world and telling him how he can do his thing better.
My friend Paul is a good road racer, but I could never imagine him giving Lance Armstrong tips on how to attack the L’Alpe d’Huez in the Tour de France. I play in a men’s soccer league, but that doesn’t mean I can fly over to England and clinic Thierry Henri (the leading goal scorer in the English Premier League) on how to strike the ball sweeter. My buddy Danny is a killer surfer, but he wouldn’t dare paddle up next to Kelly Slater and tell him what waves to drop in on. No, we give the pros plenty of room because they’re better than we are. Better yet, we would listen closely if they deigned to give us a few tips, right?
These scenarios may seem far fetched, but this is exactly how the majority of young men act toward God. They are light-years apart from God when it comes to wisdom, yet they fling their “wisdom” around like they spoke and created the heavens and the earth. In fact, their ignorance makes them dangerous to themselves and to others. Their mind-set and actions seem to say: “Thanks for coming along for the ride, God, but I’ll take the wheel from here.” They would never utter those words, of course, but their actions say otherwise. I can just imagine God scratching His head in amazement when people shine Him on.
Here is what the Lord, the Creator and Holy One of Israel, says: “Do you question what I do? Do you give me orders about the work of my hands?” (Isaiah 45:11, NLT). What areas of your life do you claim to know better than God:
• Do you set your own sexual boundaries versus respecting God’s mind on the matter?
• Do you decide which areas you’ll allow His influence to shape your lifestyle or where the off-limits signs will be posted?
• Do you selectively obey some commands and ignore others?
• Do you believe it’s okay for you to believe one thing and live and act another way?
• Do your actions show that you question His wisdom?
When my daughter, Jenna, was six, she liked to say to her brother, “You’re not the boss of me, Ryan!” What Jenna was saying was that Ryan would not control her actions but rather, “I am the boss of me!” Jenna had a right to be skeptical of her older brother, because his motives toward his sister were not always noble—and at times were highly questionable. Granted, at nine years of age, he didn’t know better.
Unlike Jenna, however, you do not have the right to be skeptical with God because He does know better. Don’t forget that He spilled His own blood for you to prove that He can be trusted.
If you continue to resist God, He has ways of showing you that you don’t know better. That’s what happened to a guy named Naaman in the Bible. He was a hotshot Syrian general who was powerful, commanding, and successful. Underneath his armor, however, his body was racked by a skin disease called leprosy. On the outside—shining armor and victory. Underneath and on the inside—sores and shame.
Don’t forget that He spilled His own blood for you to prove that He can be trusted.
When his maid told Naaman about a God’s man named Elisha who could heal him, Naaman immediately suited up, withdrew a hefty amount of money from the bank, and set off for Israel. His simple, direct plan: “I pay, and the sores go away.”
But it wasn’t that easy. More important, God wanted to heal more than Naaman’s ghastly skin condition—He wanted Naaman to learn humility. So instead of accepting Naaman’s cash, Elisha told the general that he had to expose himself by taking a bath in the Jordan River—not once but seven times! Talk about humbling. Here’s what Elisha’s messenger said to Naaman: “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.” The thought of showing the world his shameful condition (leprosy back then was like having AIDS today) caused Naaman to go ballistic. He said, “I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy” (2 Kings 5:10-11).
The bottom line of Naaman’s temper tantrum can be found in the two words “I thought.” He thought God’s plan to heal him would be custom-fitted to his plan, which, most notably, did not require any humility before God or man. I thought is the language of pride and reflects a lack of knowledge and respect about who God is and how you should relate to Him.
Naaman’s stubbornness almost cost him his miracle.
The good news is that Naaman had awesome friends who corralled him and said that swimming in the Jordan River might be the best course of action if he wanted to realize this miracle. They prevailed upon Naaman to switch mental gears:
So he went down and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy.
Then Naaman and all his attendants went back to the man of God. [Naaman] stood before him and said, “Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel.” (verses 14-15)
In snowboarding terms, Naaman did an old-fashioned 180. “Now I know” reflects his new appreciation for God’s position and a recognition that He knew better. Naaman’s stubbornness, however, almost cost him his miracle. His story should make every young man think hard about his reaction to God’s instructions.
To help you move forward with God and experience His miracles in your life, ask yourself these questions:
• Am I doing it His way or my way?
• How does God want me to handle this?
• What does God’s Word tell me to do?
• What are my godly brothers saying?
Only two things would keep you from asking yourself these questions—ignorance or pride. Neither trait will get you into the Man Zone with God.
The second common way that people respond to God is when they think, If I do it your way, I’ll miss out. The fear of missing out causes young men to reserve certain areas of their lives away from God’s purpose. I’ve seen this kind of thinking in countless counseling sessions, which convinces me that this kind of thinking is guilt-producing, unproductive, and painful in the lives of my younger spiritual brothers.
Jeremy feared that he would miss out on the college experience if he didn’t explore the party scene. Shortly after unpacking in his college dorm, he was invited to cruise fraternity row during rush week. No one knew that Jeremy had been a Christian since he was eight years old—and he wasn’t about to reveal that information. Why? Because he was making a calculated decision of whether he should step outside of God’s plan for his life.
So Jeremy jumped at the chance to experience the party scene firsthand, and he also offered to drive so that he could further ingratiate himself with his newfound buddies. Four rush parties and six tumblers of beer later, Jeremy turned the ignition and slammed his Toyota 4Runner into gear. The time was 2:00 a.m.
It would be the last time Jeremy ever got behind the wheel of a car. Four hours later Jeremy’s parents were awakened by a social worker at the University Medical Center. “We regret to inform you that at 5:12 this morning, your son expired following a multivehicle car accident …” Jeremy thought he was missing out, but now his parents are missing out on a son.
Nate felt like he was missing out because the last three girls he asked out all said, “No thanks. I think I’m washing my hair Saturday night.” Feeling depressed and lonely, he did a Google search and was quickly connected with a beautiful, shapely girl who was definitely not saying no out there in cyberspace. Her home page gave him a knot in his stomach—and a twitch below his beltline. Image after image ratcheted up the intensity, and the stranglehold tightened. The Evil One whispered: “She’s safe because she will never say no to you. She won’t ask questions, and she doesn’t mind if you stare. That’s what she’s there for. And no one will ever know. She’s accessible any time you want.”
They felt like they were missing out on something—a feeling, a thrill, a connection, an experience—that God simply would not know how to provide.
Nate’s hand felt like it was glued to his mouse. He felt scared and excited at the same time, knowing that this stuff was from the pit of hell, but he felt too compelled to turn his eyes away or click out of there.
Fast-forward three years and thousands of point-and-clicks later. It was a big day for Nate—he was getting married to Jennifer after his college graduation. The good news is that he hadn’t slept with his future bride while they were dating, but the bad news is that he continued to date the “blondies” on the Net.
His wedding night was supposed to be the over-the-top sexual experience, but when it came time for him to make love to his new wife, he wasn’t physically able to consummate his marriage that night. He couldn’t get it up! Her body … well, let’s just say it didn’t stack up real well compared to his girlfriends on the computer screen. He needed their sexy images to satisfy himself, not his wife’s less glamorous body. As you can imagine, their marriage got off to the worst start possible.
Jeremy and Nate were followers of Jesus, but they felt like they were missing out on something—a feeling, a thrill, a connection, an experience—that God simply would not know how to provide. These two guys both swallowed the same lie—if you seek first the kingdom of God, then all these things will be taken away from you. Jeremy’s independence, his disconnection from family and Christian friends back home, and a curiosity about the party scene beat his faith down and built up his fear regarding God’s ability to meet his needs.
As for Nate, he was one of the millions of young men who fear being lonely and unloved, so they look for it in the digital eyes of women without heartbeats. He didn’t know that pornography would be more powerful than a hit off a crack pipe. He didn’t know that cybersex releases real chemicals into the brain that methamphetamines can only mimic. He didn’t know that he was training his body to react to pixelated images of naked women at the expense of his future sexual relationship with his bride. When he felt the presence of the Evil One, he was afraid to mention his problem to anyone at his Christian college and, above all, to his parents.
Make no mistake, when you fear you will miss out on something—and respond by compartmentalizing certain areas of your life away from God—you will miss out:
• You will miss out on His best.
• You will miss out on His character.
• You will miss out on intimacy with Him and others.
• You will miss out on the freedom that only responding in faith can bring.
• You will miss out on the eternal blessings God promises those who choose faith over fear.
In other words, you will miss out on life the way it was intended to be. My message to you is this: move against your fear today and send a different message to God. That message should be: Lord, You win, which is the third way you can respond to God.
I really get into March Madness, that month when NCAA basketball goes crazy with excitement. I think the reason I love watching games on television is the energy—the hopping-high teams and their face-painted fans. Whenever my UCLA Bruins qualify, I hang on every shot and every whistle. Many of the games go down to the last possession of the ball.
Every college or university in the sixty-four-team tournament believes it has a chance of getting to at least the Sweet Sixteen. Every year, though, it seems like a Cinderella team shocks the sporting world and earns a trip to the Final Four.
Sometimes in these heavily fought battles, one team earns such a big lead at the end that there’s a moment of surrender in which both sides know that the game is over. It might be a fifteen-point lead with a minute to go, or a seven-point lead with seconds left on the clock. After forty minutes of pushing, shoving, yelling, fouling, swishing, blocking, cutting, passing, running, screening, shooting, picking, charging, and scoring, the team that’s down realizes there is no way it can overcome the point deficit with the few seconds left in the game. So it surrenders.
It’s easy to recognize this moment. The team that’s ahead will dribble the clock out at half court while the other team forgoes putting any pressure on the dribbler. Everyone knows that the losing team has resigned to its fate even though there is time left on the clock. Laying off the ball communicates to other team:
• You guys were better today.
• We are not fighting you anymore.
• You are advancing to the next round.
• We surrender to our fate.
In a sense, this is what our third response to God should be all about: you can’t compete against God’s will and expect to win anymore. Continuing to fight the outcome won’t make things better, but it might make things worse. When you surrender, you’re deciding to let God’s will prevail—to let Him win so that you can move forward as a man. And while it’s unnatural for highly competitive athletes to concede victory, it requires humility to say, “You know better, Lord.”
You can’t compete against God’s will and expect to win anymore.
That’s what powerfully independent and strong men have done throughout history when they wanted to experience God’s plan to the fullest. King Nebuchadnezzar was one of those proud men who, after seven maddening years, finally acknowledged God’s complete control of his life and his kingdom. He stopped competing with God’s will and said, “You win, God”:
I, Nebuchadnezzar, looked up to heaven. My sanity returned, and I praised and worshiped the Most High and honored the one who lives forever.
His rule is everlasting,
and his kingdom is eternal.
All the people of the earth
are nothing compared to him.
He has the power to do as he pleases
among the angels of heaven
and with those who live on earth.
No one can stop him or challenge him.…
Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and glorify and honor the King of heaven. All his acts are just and true, and he is able to humble those who are proud. (Daniel 4:34-35,37, NLT)
How are you responding to God today?
Is it in pride?
Pride says: I know better.
Is it in fear?
Fear says: I know my needs better.
Is it in faith?
Faith says: You know better.
So much rides on your decision because, as we’ll see in the next chapter, the competing voices of culture are not going to let you rest.