Milk is for Children and War is for Men

War is for Men.

Young strappy lads who feel they’re invincible, able to leap tall buildings and eat lead.

War is for Men.

Breaking things and fixing things – it’s what we do and there’s lots of that in War.

War allows us to unleash our fury and determine our resolve.

Occasionally, we need to claim our rightful place as defenders of all that is good.

War is for Men.

To find what we believe.

To find what we love.

To find the resolve to live.

War is for Men.

War gives us the courage to defend one another;

to weep in tragedy and cry in despair.

Women can go to War – for sure – but it’s not for them.

It’s for Men.

Men have a need to set things right and War is the ultimate societal correction.

I don’t know what is FOR Women – I’ll not venture a guess here –

But Milk is for Children and War is for Men.

This is not the total sum of War, nor is it a validation or justification.

War is tragic, treacherous, cruel and unforgiving.

War is necessary and definitive;

It’s human.

War is exhilarating, rewarding and exhausting;

It’s sad, heartbreaking and horrific;

but when it comes…

and it WILL come…

It’s for MEN.


Me vs. God

I wrestled with God and I lived to tell the tale.

God threw my life into total chaos and left me hangin’.

There seemed no reason to continue the relationship on friendly terms.

As I prepared for my personal Armageddon, I called God out on everything I could think of that was wrong in my life. I had become utterly hopeless and completely defeated but mustered the strength to take on the Creator.

It’s possible you may not have read about a more famous man_vs._God  bought that occurred in the Bible. That particular match took place with a guy named Jacob. I’ll not tell it all here, but as the all night bought with Jacob drew to a close, God pulled a hip move on Jacob which I believe has since been outlawed by the UFC (except for Taiwan where anything goes). That move rendered Jacob crippled for life, as his hip was never quite the same.

Even so, it was ‘on’ with me and God!

We put on the gloves, rang the bell and I got after it.

If you’ve ever seen the movie Cool_Hand_Luke (“What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.”) you know exactly how the fight between me and God went. In the movie, Luke (Paul Newman) takes on the toughest guy in the prison, Dragline (George Kennedy), in a boxing match. Luke eventually punches himself into exhaustion and falls into Dragline’s arms and the big man carries Luke off the field.

I had a similar experience.

I thought I had God on the run with my convincing dissertation and self-righteousness when he pulled the Rope_a_dope. The Rope-a-dope is a fight move made famous in the 70’s by the greatest boxer of all time, Muhammad Ali. In this move, Ali stands against the ropes and allows the other boxer to throw punches while he covers up and absorbed the blows. The other boxer exhausts himself throwing useless punches and then Ali goes after him.

For a few days I remained completely engaged in this struggle. The ‘whys’ and the ‘whats’ are not important, but I let God have it with everything I could muster. All the mistakes He’d made in the course of my life, the wrong courses He’d put me on and the paths He didn’t let me pursue.

I know God never threw a punch in any of the rounds, but He let me punch myself into exhaustion. Any injuries I sustained in that bought were self-inflicted.

When it was over (when I got over myself) God blessed me with peace. It may have not been “A peace…that surpasses all understanding,” but peace, none the less.

Nothing resolved. Nothing new. Just peace.

I think we’re still working it out (I am anyway) and it’s not peaches and cream, but my Father listened and he didn’t condemn me, though He had every right to.

I’m not condoning an all out fight with God (He IS God you know!), but coming clean with your Creator on who and what you are, and what you think about how it’s going, may add some clarity and some relief.

I was surprised God let me go as long as He did. I felt so empty and defeated and I wasn’t sure anyone was going to catch me. I wallowed in self-pity, self-doubt and unrighteous self-justification!

In the end, none of my problems or life struggles were resolved, and yet I was victorious. Like Rocky Balboa after being defeated by Apollo Creed – in the original and best Rocky movie – Rocky realized he had won in life, regardless of the outcome of the fight.

I wrestled with God and won, though God was not defeated.

I have no idea how or why it worked out that way, but it did.

Some things are just not worth trying to explain.


It’s pure fantasy to believe anyone could fully reveal their soul on the pages of a book  called an autobiography.

Are we to believe that these written words are somehow more true than the actions of the person that lived them?

If they lied through their lives, do we not fully suspect they will lie through the pages?

If they were honest and true, have they not  revealed themselves already?

We aspire to be heroes and martyrs; thieves and lovers; sinners and saints.

To believe a man has somehow fully come to terms with the all the thoughts that are his own is foolishness and folly.

Thoughts forgotten and abandon in fits of rage.

Thoughts lost in the daily struggle to find a purpose for our lives.

Thoughts that cannot be verbalized for the shame they bring.

Secret thoughts so coveted that we hope the grave will not reveal.

Thoughts of our own demise and the plans we made.

Moments  that words would tarnish.

Dreams that became realities and realities that became nightmares.

No, there is no  ‘tell all’ and no words to reveal who we truly are.

We are a prisoner to most of our thoughts; never revealed to any – unable and unwilling.

Our true biography can only be the life we’ve lead and never captured by a pen.

In the end, even that which we would reveal is but speck of dust gathered from the floor of our mind.

You’ll never know all that there is of anyone. 

Even if  they desired to have you know all that there is – the depth and breadth of a man cannot be documented with a pen or spoken in a word. 

What they wanted you to know, they hung on your heart and revealed through their eyes.

The rest are just words on a page, subject to the flame, bound by the limits of language and imagination.  No more or less truthful than the man who lived them.

Be sure to read the story of those you love while they remain.  

The story is written in every encounter.  In the words they speak and the deeds they do;  in a passing glance and a heart exposed. 

That’s our biography.  The tapestry of memories of all those you’ve ever known or touched. 

That’s our story, written on their hearts.