The Measure of a Man

Current System Configuration: Vacation Mode, but still waiting for late script submissions -_-
BGM: Holy Orders ~Be Just or Be Dead~ by Daisuke Ishiwatari. Ky Kiske's theme from Guilty Gear. Soaring neo-baroque piece with awesome guitars.
Breakfast: Corned beef with pandesal
Lunch: Greasy Shakey's pizza (Forced to good since I was in a hurry. Blarg. :P)
Dinner: None, had late merienda at a cousin's birthday party.

Really tired today. I had to endure an hour-long drive from Antipolo to our house in Loyola Heights. Good thing I volunteered to drive, because my grandpa was revving the engine a bit too hard, which caused it to heat up real quickly. The drive was thankfully uneventful, but I had to be a cruel master to my poor ankles.

This entry was sparked by a little talk I had with one of my students. This student was experiencing a common type of adolescent angst that needed a remedy---an anecdote of a similar (usually more grave) experience from an older person.

I told this student about a time (quite a while back, two years ago if I'm not mistaken) when I had to take the place of our regular Youth Worship song leader since he was away on a retreat. I had arrived early on that day in order to rehearse with the band. The girl I liked was one of the relief musicians on that day, and she had also arrived early. She left for a while then came back talking to someone on her cell phone.

All of a sudden she started crying. And I don't mean little sniffles. I mean loud, pained wailing. I asked her what had happened and she said her grandmother had passed away.

Now I can't bear the sight of people crying, especially not people dear to me. So I went up to her when she put the phone down and asked her what had happened. She told me, and I wanted so badly to put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her, pray for her, reassure her.

But I could not.

Instead of doing anything to make her feel better, all I did was stare and say "...oh." I was so concerned about "being proper" (As if a friend comforting a friend was improper) and about my own comfort zone that I could not lend strength to the girl I cared for in a moment of great weakness and pain. It was horrible. Looking back, I can say that I did not feel like a man at all. I had no guts. No balls. I failed that test badly. I was a coward.

~~~~~~~~~

Courage is an oft-romanticized quality that ends up being so cliche that many men resort to other ways of manifesting it. They climb mountains, throw themselves off mountains, drive cars at insane speeds and otherwise boast about their machismo---a rather crude way of showing what they're made of.

While self-endangerment does show one's strength of will, I think that ultimately the test of one's courage is not physical danger. Many guys would sooner crash themselves into a wall than sit down beside a grieving lady and comfort her. And I have fallen short in this area.

I'm of the opinion that showing another human being kindness often takes a kind of courage that's a lot deeper than mere "guts." And yet I find myself lacking.

There are so many times when I could have talked to a person about the Good News I believe in. When I could've made their day easier by pointing them to my Lord. But what do I do? I just clam up and refuse to tell them anything. Of course, most of the time it's best to just listen to the heartaches of a person in pain, but there are times when a response is merited, demanded, begged for. And it's those times when a man just has to stop thinking about himself and start thinking about others.

I found my actions so abominable that day. Yes, abominable. Not just depressing, not just disgusting, but abominable. Here was the girl who I claimed to have feelings for, and yet I could not do a single thing to comfort her. It sucked so much. I'm a coward.

Aye, there's the rub, but does it end there? Whining about something I did in the past won't help. Something has to be done about this, and thus I keep asking my Lord to strengthen me. There's still things that need to be sacrificed. Things that need to be dealt with. I'm a long way from what I want to be, from what God wants me to be, but what's the use in giving up? There is no rest. I may be a coward, but the first step to learning how to be courageous is that---admitting that I am a coward.

~Be Just or Be Dead~
#10122AD20052122
ー黒獅子アスラン