Pursuing Authenticity

By Ben Lee

I’m turning 30 this fall. I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified. I suppose it doesn’t matter. What I know, though, is this: I’ve been reflecting on my life and contemplating what it means to be a man.

I can’t help but notice that many of my friends are settling down—pursuing careers, getting married, buying their first homes, and having kids. I’ve been there and done that; I jumped the gun in my late teens. Sometimes I guess I feel a little out of place. My boys are older, I’m recently divorced, I’ve already bought and lost a house, and lately, I’ve been playing more than working.

At first glance, one might conclude that I’m simply trying to live out what I missed in my early 20s, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Because people tend to perceive my choices that way, though, never have I felt more judged and misunderstood for my decisions. Still, during this season never have I felt closer to the heart of the Father.

In the midst of this tension, I’ve often wondered, “What will others think?” and “What should I do?” instead of asking, “Father, where are you leading me?” I’ve avoided conversations with God and others about authenticity, vulnerability, and shame. But aren’t asking the right questions and those very conversations essential to becoming wholehearted men?

Culturally and as a society, the definition of manhood lies in standing up to discomfort and pain, and it manifests in a way I find is destructive. We treat exhaustion as a status symbol; we tend to exalt the walking wounded— those who deny difficulties or bury their dreams to “man up,” looking down upon those who deviate from the status quo or let their weaknesses get to them.

When I am honest with myself, I’m willing to accept that there are a few things I crave: Guidance. Wisdom. Encouragement. Validation. In other words, I need fathering—and it is the deepest cry of my heart. I’m learning that being a wholehearted man begins with a heart posture that says, “I need a Father, I have a Father, and I’m going to seek my Father.”

As I’m growing older, I’m learning to no longer despise the places that feel young but to give grace to the places that feel five and seventeen. I’m shifting away from the world’s way. Shame never heals, never encourages, never makes whole. But my Dad’s love does. It renews, restores, and lights my way.

I guess this means I’m not as ambivalent about entering into the next decade as I had thought. 3-0, here we come.