Deflated
A few choice words escaped my lips when I saw it.
To escape the COVID doldrums, this summer our family fled to the mountains in pursuit of a change of scenery. The outdoors is our holy sanctuary, where we meet God, ourselves, and one another in profoundly deep ways. Seeing the wonder of our daughter's growing photography skill (she beautifully captured the comet and the night sky!), our other daughter's reverie in writing into existence fictional worlds yet unknown, and together watching the glory of five fox siblings playing chase while sipping coffee at sunrise...Goodness has truly been known.
Until I saw the flat tire.
We sat on the valley's edge about 12 miles into the backwoods. Somehow, a screw found its way into my tire, disabling it completely, especially on those roads. My children joke about my over-preparedness, always bringing extra layers of clothing, extra motor oil, extra antifreeze, extra paracord, extra lighters, extra socks, extra everything. But the moment I saw that deflated tire, something deflated in me. I was not prepared.
Having bought the vehicle used, I had not double checked the jack package. I had not made sure I had what I needed should I need it. Now, we were stuck.
After recovering from the necessary fits of rage and shame, and after recognizing that I could not solve this problem on my own (my typical way of managing things...), God began to whisper. What if this was an invitation? What if He had an experience or a gift just waiting for me to discover?
Pressing past my self-reliance, I walked the half-mile to the next nearest camper. There sat a man on an upside-down 5-gallon pail just looking at the peak in the distance. I approached him somewhere between sheepish and confident, asking, "I have a flat tire. Would you happen to have a jack?" Three hours later, after involving four other men for various tools, parts, and muscle, a brotherhood of men came to my rescue.
My wife commented on the rise of men. Here we were, strangers in the high country, all suddenly working together, pooling our resources, and cheering one another on. There is something powerful in the brotherhood of men, and something even more powerful when it is that brotherhood that makes more happen than we could alone.
Men, I wonder how many of you find yourselves unprepared. To a large degree, I think we all are for this journey called life. But I also wonder how often we resist the rise of brotherhood merely to avoid the shame of being seen as unprepared and alone. By doing so, we stay stuck and deflated in the woods.
I believe God's invitation to all men is to know the rise of brothers, not only in the moments of crisis, but especially in the moments of crisis.
Don't be deflated, and don't be alone.
Chris Bruno
