In a land not so far away, and a time that was not so long ago, manhood was something that was revered. Less than two generations previous to mine there was a dignity that a real man exuded. It enticed boys to run to its knees when it came home from work. It elicited kisses, hugs and cuddling with the wife on the sofa long after the kids were asleep, and perhaps before television became our ever constant companion.

 

There was a day when the physical strength in a man’s body was something not to be envied or feared by women, but greatly desired. There was a time when a firmness of voice meant sobriety rather than abuse, and certainly not victimization or feelings of intimidation. There was a time when assertive decision-making was trusted, not questioned endlessly. There was a time when a man would go hungry himself before allowing his children or wife to go without. There was a time when it was as natural as breathing for a man to expect to hold a door open for a woman or a group of women and that, whatever his hurry, it was more important to extend that courtesy than to fulfill a self-centered objective.

As I ponder it, there was a time when men did not cry in public, and seldom even in the privacy of their family. There was this inescapable idea that men should be the solid bedrock upon which their family could always depend and that if personal sorrow came to the surface, it might be let out only on a long walk or a moment far removed from those who depended on him.

 

In those days, men were less confused and more self-aware. They expected a good meal only after delivering a long and tedious day of hard work. They had much appreciation for the beauty and mystery of a good woman. They had much fun and exuberance for their rambunctious kids, and they knew to some degree if they kept the children occupied at least for a while before dinner that perhaps later they would enjoy the most satisfying of all sensations—complete oneness and vulnerability with the woman whom they had committed their life, love and fortune to.

 

These men had heroes—heroes like John Wayne—who cut a silhouette like a rock and had the temperament and physical, spiritual and emotional strength to match. These men were to be feared by evildoers and loved and respected by their families, communities and nation.

 

Some of these men were all the things listed above despite deep and harrowing personal failure. Some of them were those things in spite of living through the hells of war, destruction and death.

 

Whatever it was that made that man the kind of man every man should be, something began to happen somewhere between that generation and mine: They stopped making them.

 

Somewhere along the line it became the norm to let a woman open her own door, change her own flat tire and support the family. Somewhere the wires got crossed, and men became weaker in body, lighter in voice, more fragile in mentality. They grew less confident, more emotional, less assertive and more touchy-feely. They were told to get in touch with their feminine side. And what was most frightening is it seems they didn’t have to ask where to find it.

 

Men became more like monsters in their views toward sex, and they became like mice when it came to standing up to the evils in the society around them. Ironically, many of these changes occurred with a generation of men who had not seen the perils of a world war and had experienced far greater prosperity than any of the men who had endured the soup lines, unemployment and complete humiliation of an era known as the Great Depression.

 

It seems that with introduction of better days, we began to create inferior men. And as I still see the impact of this ever-evolving species, the people I converse with who are concerned about this the most are women!

 

Every man in Western society has been affected by what modern feminism has programmed into people’s minds. This has left us seemingly beating our heads against the wall as we try to figure out why on earth we are so at odds with the world around us.

 

But what would happen if the distinctives of manhood were encouraged once again? What if quietly, one by one, a different sort of man was birthed in each of us? What if we had a little more swagger, confidence and assertiveness, particularly as we plunge headlong into the doubts and fears our families, wives and children face? What if our wives and children drew calm from the strength we exerted?

 

What if we were able to bring a little more clarity to life’s problems, live more closely by our convictions and gently reclaim the role of leadership in our own spiritual walks, community service and in the great societal issues of our days?

 

Would the world become a different place if we men were more the kind of man every man should be? What if we grew the next generation of males into an army of this kind of man?

 

That, my friend, is what we want to explore in this book. But first, we need a better understanding of where we’ve come from and what we’re up against. Let’s get to it!