Onions: My Barrier to Holiness

Lent is intended to be a season of penance, of self-reflection, of growth, of personal introspection, and ultimately, we should be working to “die to self”.  I’m terrible at it.  Here’s a lame story.  Let’s call it the “onion-idiot story.”  I’m the onion-idiot.

Last Friday was the 1st Friday of Lent 2018, and my beautiful wife, Catherine, (who is a phenomenal chef!) made a meatless cheese and broccoli soup.  (It was even Keto-friendly, which we are currently utilizing as our fueling system.  Perhaps more on eating Keto in the future?)  The soup was VERY tasty.  The ingredients were fresh.  The flavor was amazing.  It probably wasn’t much of a Lenten sacrifice, other than the fact that it didn’t have bacon in it!  There was only one problem: onions.

I HATE ONIONS.

It’s not the taste.  It’s not the texture.  It isn’t even that they make you cry.  It’s the smell.  They stink.  Terribly.  Whenever I smell an onion, it is as if it embeds its stink in my nasal cavity, and won’t evacuate the premises for days on end.  It’s stench digs deep into my skin’s pores, and it won’t leave.  I hate onions.  [I apologize if you like onions… this has nothing to do with you, it’s my issue.]  And I’m assuming you’re seeing where this is going.

Catherine knows this about me, and hasn’t cooked onions (one of her favorite ingredients!) in our home for years – all because she knows, very explicitly, how I feel.  I’m very grateful.  And how do I show her how grateful I am?  I complain.  I make it known just how bad it smells in the house.  I put every sort of smell-good mechanism that we own directly in the ‘on’ position.  I turned on the vanilla-scented burners, sprayed the air freshener, and even opened up windows and doors on a cold February day.  The smell was still in the… well… everything. Yuck.

Saturday rolled around and Catherine wanted to eat leftovers.  She considered – again, because of how much she loves me – taking the soup leftovers over to her parent’s house to warm and eat it there, just so the onion smell wouldn’t be present in our home again.  I still complained.  I still made childish comments.  Then, in my only moment of reasonable interaction surrounding these onions, I got the leftovers out, pulled out the bowl, and warmed up the soup for her.

I had already failed miserably in terms of “dying to self”.  What a stupid thing, too.  Onions.  Onions are my barrier to holiness.  I need to learn to keep my mouth shut, bear difficulties with humility, and realize that onions (read that “my own preferences/wants/desires/me-me-me”) are keeping me from true holiness.  If we were to apply this to anything else, especially something that matters, we’d hopefully see that when we die to self, we love others.  When we love others, we fulfill who we are as men.  The culture is extremely interested in destroying the idea that men can love.  That love, which they reduce to a mere emotion, is feminine.  Love, in actuality, is so much more and is required for authentic masculinity.

There are countless exercises that we can all work on to die to self.  And some might think that because I’ve been in this thing we call the Christian journey for so long that I’d have this down, but I don’t.  Can you believe how ridiculous I am?! 

In order to get better at something, we need to practice it and rely on God’s grace! So, here’s what I’m going to do today to die to myself: first off, I’m going to go home and tell my wife that I love her, give her a big, meaningful hug and kiss, and ask her about her.  Nothing to do with me.  Next, I’m going to find 5 little ways (one per my wife and 4 children) to choose someone else’s preference and never make mention of it.  And, I’m going to try to sustain that every day… slowly working to lose my own preferences (ultimately, the goal is to become selfless in all things, and not selfish, ie: prideful) and offering up in prayer my ‘suffering’ for their sanctification.  If you struggle with dying to self, try it with me.

TrueMan up!

The Most Important Relationship of Their Lives

I have the privilege of staying home with my daughters on Tuesdays.  Technically, it’s my day off every week.  I cherish Tuesdays with them and know that I am blessed to be able to have such dedicated and devoted time taking care of them.  I cherish this time because I know, without a doubt, that there will never be a more important relationship in either of my daughter’s lives than their relationship with me.  I don’t say this out of pride or out of attention-seeking.  I say this because it is the truth.

Think about it… where does a young girl learn about love?  Where does a young girl learn how to be treated?  Where does a young girl develop her idea of what her future will hold?  Where does a young girl learn self-respect and self-esteem?  From her father.  [This is NOT to underscore the relationships a young girl has with anyone else, especially her mother.  It is to show that a father has a vital role in the future of his daughters.  In my estimation, the most vital role.]  Her father must demonstrate love; love of his spouse, love of his children, love of his God.  What happens if a father doesn’t fulfill this role or if he fails to fulfill it in the correct way?  Simple, the child’s understanding of how a man should act and treat others is skewed.  This skewed understanding can lead to multiple problems, namely disordered relationships.

Fathers, love your wives.  Set the example for your daughters of how they should expect a man to treat them.  Teach them to set the bar high and to never settle for less than the best.  If they see you being disrespectful, unloving and/or hurtful towards their mother, they are going to grow up thinking that similar behavior is normal and okay.  It’s not.  They will learn not only what love is, but more importantly, how to love and how to receive love from your example.  It is a big responsibility, but that’s what you signed up for when you had sex with your wife. 

Man up!