Safety

Continuing where my previous post, Perfection, left off, I delve into the Cowboy stage of John Eldridge's 6 phases of masculine development.


The Cowboy phase takes place in early adolescence.  It's a time of testing...a time of wild, soloing adventures.  The boy seeks out usually physical challenges, adventures, and dangers to overcome.  He is preparing for his life as a Warrior.  He is trying to find out that he has what it takes to be a man.  In this stage, according to Eldridge, it's important that the boy be released into his adventures.  Obviously, this should not be done recklessly.  One of the things the Cowboy must learn is that, although still the Beloved Son, he is not the center of the universe.  There are certain rules of the road, ways in which the universe operates, and these must be respected...for the consequences of violating the order of things can be serious indeed.


This stage is intimately tied to the Warrior stage.  The Warrior phase runs from late teens through the early twenties, according to Eldridge.  It's a time of missions...of battles to be fought and won.  Often these are not physical, but spiritual.  At this time, the man needs to have a King to captain him.  He needs a cause worth fighting for, and he needs to take heart and fight for it aggressively.


Yet both of these stages can be easily sabotaged.  The Cowboy can be emasculated when he is sheltered, kept safe and sound within the four walls of his boyhood for too long.  When denied adventure and testing, the Cowboy is left with no answer to his essential question: Do I have what it takes?  And thereafter he lacks crucial confidence.  Similarly, the Warrior can be crippled by the assumption that aggression is wrong and the elevation of passivity as a virtue.  With the urge to fight labeled as sinful, the Warrior will fold under pressure, avoid conflict, and leave the messes (his and those of others) for someone else to clean up.


I grew up with two sisters, and my Mom was a strong figure in our lives as children.  Like any Mom, I suppose, she wanted to keep her children safe--which meant that the only adventures I went on when I entered my Cowboy years where in books.  I read every single Gary Paulson book I could get my hands on. I longed to be caught in some struggle for survival alone in the wilderness like Brian from The Hatchet--but as the years went by my family's busyness meant less hiking and tamer camping trips.  We went from tent camping a fifteen minute hike down the trail, where the nearest camper's fires were scarcely visible through the trees, to camping in crowded sites, and then to actually sleeping in a bed in a cabin just off the main road--a progression of luxury and convenience, sure, but not of adventure.  My adolescent years were kept very safe.  Only recently, as I come back from college during the summers, have I had the thrill of solo outdoor adventures: getting lost in the woods (and finding my way again, mind you), braving storms and mosquitoes (I HATE mosquitoes!), exploring underused trails (and having to climb up the backside of dam when I discover just why the trail is underused--it's one way and leads only down!), hiking all five peaks of Snow Mountain, biking from the YMCA to Winter Park and back again....crazy adventures, some just a little stupid.  Yet all very necessary.  Before, I had no confidence in myself.  The safety I'd been sheltered in had answered my question (do I have what it takes?) with an emphatic "no."


Similarly, growing up, I remember that aggression was not encouraged.  Two little sisters are not good playmates for learning positive aggression as a boy.  Little girls just don't want to play war like a little boy does--though God knows I tried!  Usually, I would end up playing Barbie with my little sisters instead.  Of course, I would always try to sneak war in there: my Barbie doll was a secret agent, she was working with the aliens who were going to invade the planet!  That sort of thing got me sidelined during the Barbie-play.  No girl wants an alien invasion to interrupt her playing house.  Such were the realities of growing up as the only boy in the family.  I suppose my Dad could have done something to help, but I'm not sure what.  Instead, my parents helped to cement the idea that aggression was unacceptable in my mind.  I remember in elementary school when Pokémon was a huge fad.  I had never seen an episode of Pokémon, didn't have the cards, and hadn't played the game, but I'd heard about them.  I knew two things: Pokémon were cool animals with magical powers and--most appealingly--they fought.  I decided to grab a stuffed animal and go play Pokémon with my sisters.  My Mom later said she could not recall this episode, but I distinctly remember that at this point she cut in.  She stopped our play when she heard mention of Pokémon because she was concerned they were "too violent."  I was crushed.  Later, I amassed a secret collection of Pokémon cards and became enamored with the game.  Aggression had become the forbidden fruit, at least until I was found out.  This trained me to be passive as a man, a problem I've dealt with here before in a previous post.


So, the lies were thus: You don't have what it takes.  You must stay safe and you must be safe.  If you try to do something aggressively, you will fail and only hurt yourself and others.  I accepted the lies and swore: Fine.  Since I don't have what it takes, I'll just try to keep my head down and just get by.  If I don't have what it takes, I can't be perfect, and I can't be loved.  I won't go for that.  I won't try for anything much.  I'll just hope to get through life without causing anyone any trouble.


My past summer at the Navigators Summer Training Program was really instrumental in reversing this oath and this lie.  It was a Cowboy summer for me, in many ways.  Most of those episodes I mentioned above happened during that summer, out on my own in the wilderness.  There were tough trials, some dangerous moments, but I got through them, and now I know I have what it takes.  It sounds childish to say, but if I can hike all five peaks of Snow Mountain, twice, I can face the battles God has set before me.


There was more than adventure to that summer, though.  That summer I was also the Warrior.  It was not the first time.  My struggle with pornography addiction in high school was what first brought out the Warrior in me.  Yet there, for the first time, the mission minded heart of the Warrior coupled with the confidence of the Cowboy, and the victories I won there, the stands I made--specifically against my oath of passivity--I shall never forget.