I'm home now; finally returned to my city. I've never been one for what they call home; home was something from which one must escape, a captivity into which freedom called. Stained and dreary, those four walls pressed in on me for years. I have not settled since, always chasing freedom but finding new walls. It may very well be that a woman's touch is needed to transform a dungeon into a home.
Though, on the other hand, it may simply be a matter of the heart, but matters of the heart are never simple. Perhaps, I'm growing weary of running. And what is a runner who has no destination? To always run and have no finish line quickly compounds the fatigue. Maybe this is the cause of that sudden, unexpected loss of the wild, escapist spirit that many men don't realize has left until mid-life. They lose the adventurer inside, that wanderer running from old, cell walls, that killer instinct. The instinct that the youthful fighter feeds off, but when suddenly it leaves, if not replaced by anything substantive leaves him dead in the water, old and washed up, fully at the mercy of his opponent.
So this growing desire for home, or a home -- because home itself does not necessarily have to be something I have already known or seen or heard, but perhaps a new invention, or a remixed solution fortified with better ingredients -- though it seems to come at the cost of the killer instinct falling away, does not have to be something bad. A tree which has suddenly lost its leaves will rest and return after a season fully rejuvenated.
To live and learn this idea of home does not of necessity have to mean the death of something -- adventure, joy, or fullness of life -- but a transformation, a step into the unknown. How else does a duckling discover its natural swimming ability unless it pokes through the shell and stumbles past the broken pieces?
Naturally, at this stage of my life, one of the biggest upcoming steps to discovering and integrating home will be starting a family. But this itself is another big adventure, so where do men go wrong, what is the cause of the crisis many men experience at mid-life?
It seems to me that the root can be found in the attitude toward the two stages of life. There is an instinct in many men my age to wander, explore, adventure, and experience; let's call this the adventure instinct. Could it be, as I have said, that this adventure instinct gets fatigued and must, for a time, go into hibernation or briefly lie dormant in order to refresh? That many families often begin while this instinct is dormant, leading to later discontent when the man feels that home has again lost its freedom and reverted to the old, dirty cell walls.
So what is the solution? What is the remedy and road to a healthy family? I would suggest that the answer is in the object of that adventure instinct. The wandering season I am in now is feeding this instinct, as well as, I am sure, early married life will also be a source of new adventure. But it seems like the adventure instinct is seeking, even dependent on, something to fulfill it. It is possible that I could let the instinct run away with me and chase fulfillment in traveling, hiking, rock climbing, and all the other excitement that awaits me on this side of the world. In the next stage, I could seek fulfillment in my wife, my kids, and this whole home idea. If these are the objects of my adventure instinct and its fulfillment, they will all fail me.
The object, the goal, must be a greater adventure, a more luscious pleasure, and a bigger joy than any object I have so far named. My hope must be the One who secured it. My joy, He who is not only the essence of beauty, but her source. My adventure, He who created the wildest habitations and the fiercest instincts.
If I am to step into this new stage of life, I must rest on the Foundation which will hold all the stages together. If I am to love my wife as she deserves to be loved and raise my children to know the greatest Adventure, then they cannot be the first focus. In fact, they will only come into right focus when I use the proper lens to view them. To be a consistent man, a passionate husband, and an adventurous dad, I must be setting the right lens now in advance.
"Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth." (Col 3:2) If Paul sees it as necessary to inform us to do this, it's likely that it will not just come naturally. Whatever season my adventure instinct is in, I must be alert and continually forming this instinct by setting my mind on the things above.
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