Have you ever asked yourself, “Self, why do churches today look more like the bra and panty department at Sears rather than a battalion of men poised to kick demonic butt?”
The lack of men in church is not at all difficult to see. Just pry yourself out of bed on any Sunday morning and go to church. Then, count the number of ladies in the pews and the number of men. The result will more than likely be that you’ll get slapped in the face with the Jose Cuervo-like reality that men frequent church about as much as Bill and Hillary dirty dance.
So, why do men keep away from church like Kramer does a Snoop Dogg pot party?
Here’s the veneer-stripped-away answer: going to church has become very dainty. That’s right. Church, for most men, has not only become irrelevant, it has also become effeminate. Hanging out in church for most Y-chromosomes seems unmanly, and most men—more than anything (at least for now)—want to be masculine!
The current lack of strong men within the Church, both in the numeric and leadership sense, has crippled our cathedrals and has helped devastate our nation ethically.
The masculine spirit being absent from the pulpit, the pew (and subsequently the public square) has not only slowed down the forward progress of the Church, it has also weakened our nation’s morality, increased our country’s secularity, done nothing for national security and has assisted (owing to our absence) the lascivious Left’s re-definition of life, sex, marriage and law.
The question is, how do we regain the masculine spirit in our houses of worship? Here are a few things the Church can do:
• Put an end to preaching by whiny, over-preened and giddy Nancy Boys . . . like . . . uh . . . now. It freaks out us meat eaters. Get it? If you want to draw men to church, then put a man in the pulpit. It’s pretty simple. You get what you fish for. Duh. If you want a bunch of Nancy’s, then keep your Nancy pastor. If you want some dudes to fill the pews, then get a dude to do the preaching. Good luck finding a non-neutered minister, though, as most seminaries are cranking out puppets and not prophets.
• Ditto regarding the worship/music leader. Also, make sure your new testosterone laden songmeister is outfitted with weighty worship music instead of the saccharine-laced slush we have had to sing ad nauseam et infinitum for the last, oh, 100 years.
• Enough with the Precious Moments prints and figurines—okay? How about decking out the sanctuary with serious transcendent art work that stops us in our tracks, rather than ubiquitous prints of fat baby angels who look like they’ve got a good buzz going from too much Mountain Dew and Robitussin?
• Lose the Church’s “I’m in therapy forever” feel. Yes, yes, I know . . . “we’re all a work in progress,” but the co-dependant, extended womb the Church has wrongfully created has allowed congregants to use the excuse of “going through some bad crap” as a viable reason for not getting a life. Sure, life is hard, Dinky—and the sooner we celebrate the struggle the quicker we will draw men back to our houses of worship.
If the Church wants to recover its losses, we’ve got to draw the knuckle draggers back to church. Masculine men are pretty easy. Toss in reason, competition, initiation, struggle, irreverance and a problem to throttle, and we are there man. Blow off, suppress and emasculate the environment of these holy testicular necessities, and your church, as far as men go, will be more empty than Paris Hilton’s head.
One last word for the young Christian man: Do you want to grow up quickly? Then leave mommy’s familiar, safe haven and venture out into the danger zone. Beware, young man, of parents and pastors who want to “mother” you. Avoid the secure; refuse over-protection; and happily accept the masculine task of the patriarch, the prophet, the warrior and wild man. Go crash and burn for your dream.
Get to a place, young warrior, where pain is not a big deal, and where you embrace resistance. And by your example, you will encourage others to resist self-doubt, squeamishness, indecision and the impulse to surrender and withdraw into the warm, wet womb of Wussville.