Mansfield's Book of Manly Men (241-244)
GENTLEMEN, I WANT TO CLOSE THIS BOOK BY TELLING YOU one more story. I hope it will make you want to act, and act in very much the same way the men in this story did.
There is a church I know and love very much. Its members are nearly all African American, and what is most remarkable about this church is its amazing ministry to men. Frankly, it’s the best I’ve ever seen—bold, fiery, effective, and fun, measured by how men live loving and righteous lives in their homes and their communities. It is wonderful.
The main reason it’s wonderful is a man we’ll call Taylor. He had the ability to rally men to the example of Jesus and to fulfilling their destinies in this world. He also had an infectious laugh, gave a bone-crushing hug, and could out-eat anyone in the state.
Taylor’s ministry to men rocked on for years, changing lives and impacting the community. Well, the thing happened that often happens in churches. A new pastor. A shift in priorities. A new budget. By the time it had all settled, Taylor got hurt and left the church. And he really left the church. He wouldn’t talk to anybody. He completely cut himself off. Taylor’s wife told some of the men that he had locked himself in his house and wouldn’t come out.
This went on for a number of weeks, and no one did anything. Everyone seemed to think Taylor would eventually “get over his mad” and get back to his life. But he didn’t, and more weeks went by.
Finally, two of the men in the ministry were talking and one of them said, “You know, I don’t want to turn to you in five years and say, ‘I wonder what happened to old Taylor. He sure was a good guy. I wonder how he’s doing.’ We had some pretty special times together, and I’m just not going to sit by and let him drift away. I’m just not going to do it!
Both men agreed and decided to start talking to all the other men. Then together these men came up with the most astounding plan I’ve ever seen come out of a church men’s ministry.
Within forty-eight hours, these guys had set up camp in Taylor’s yard. About 150 of them. They had decided Taylor was going to come out if they had to stay there—on a rotating schedule so men could work their jobs—for the rest of the year if they had to, but they weren’t going to let Taylor go.
Picture it: more than 150 African American men camping in Taylor’s big old yard with electric lines running from neighboring houses to power the televisions and the refrigerators. About twenty grills and smokers are working up some of the best barbecue in the world. These are men, after all. They don’t plan to starve! And there are great big signs all over the place: “Taylor. Come Out. We Love you!” “Taylor, You’re an Idiot. Get Out Here!
One of the leaders told me later, “We had some fun, but don’t think this wasn’t a sacrifice. Black men don’t camp. But we decided we would do it for Taylor.
This went on for days. Taylor never came out. But our men had come to settle in for the long haul.
All of this must have ticked Taylor off, because on the third day the police came. Taylor had called them. When Taylor’s wife and some of the leaders explained what was going on, one of the policemen said, “I wish the guys in our church loved each other this way. Don’t worry. We’ve got this.” Then the two cops just drove off. No one knew what they meant by, “We’ve got this."
The next day, the police came back. They walked through the crowd of men without saying a word and rang the front doorbell. No one answered. One of the officers shouted, “Sir, are you in there? Sir, are you okay? We’ve had a call that you might not be safe. Sir, you’ll need to come to the door to let us know you’re okay. Sir, are there guns in there?
Of course, no one had called the police. These officers had decided to help.
Finally, Taylor came to the door, and the men camping in his yard exploded with cheers, which lasted until Taylor finished his chat with the officers and went back inside.
But the police came back. Twice a day. And not the same policemen, either. Different guys. Apparently the first two had let the entire police department in on what was happening, and they all agreed to help. So twice a day a patrol car pulled up to Taylor’s house. Twice a day policemen rang the doorbell. Twice a day one of them shouted that they had received a call and needed to make sure Taylor was all right. And twice a day, the men in that yard got to scream their love for Taylor.
On the sixth day, someone looked up on the porch and there was Taylor—crying his eyes out and sputtering how sorry he was.
And Taylor came out.
This is a true story. In fact, I’m not telling you where this happened because I’m not completely sure that what the policemen did wasn’t some violation of regulations.
I’ve told this story, though, because it is almost a picture of wounded manhood in our age. And what’s the answer? Men need to bring men in. Men need to stand for other men. Men need to rescue the men who are adrift. Men need the presence of other valiant men—both living and dead—to draw them out to what they are meant to be.
That’s it. That’s the story. And at the heart of it is the simple truth we started with. Don’t sit around talking so that years from now you’re wondering what happened to your life. Act. Act now. Act like a man. Do what men do. There’s time for change, and God is with you.
What then will you do? How will you show yourself a man?
