by Eric Ludy

My four-year-old son, Hudson, was making some global observations yesterday.  He does this every now and again.  He picks a theme and then just sort of mulls it over in his mind.  When he is done mulling, then out flow his pithy thoughts.

His theme yesterday was dress wear, and he had the attentions of the entire Ludy clan as he spoke.

“Gwirls wear dwesses,” he proclaimed as little Harper Grace twirled around in her cute little sun dress. 

I agreed with him.

“Bwoys don’t wear dwesses.”

Again, I agreed.  I did ponder mentioning the fact that burly Scottish Highlanders wear kilts, but I didn’t want to disturb his momentum.

He paused for a moment, fully digesting this extraordinary reality, and then proclaimed, “I’m weally gwad that I’m a bwoy!”

Well, consider me inspired by my little boy’s declaration.  I too am really glad that I’m a boy.  That isn’t to take anything away from femininity.  For I know for a fact that Leslie is really glad that she is a girl.  But there is something hot-wired within my being that loves thunder, dirt, sword-play, treasure hunts, rescue operations, muscle, sweat, and overcoming obstacles.  I’m just plain giddy over the fact that I don’t need to act feminine and (to follow Hudson’s line of reasoning) that I don’t need to wear frilly sun dresses.

As a boy I have a challenging road to hoe.  The buck stops with me and the onus of righteous responsibility rests squarely on my shoulders.  If there is a problem in society, then I’m responsible before God to head the charge to fix it.  If there is a problem in my church then yours truly can’t wait around for someone else take up the fight – after all I’m the boy, and therefore, I’m the one responsible to initiate the action.  And the same goes for love – I (the boy) am required to be the risk-taker, the foot-washer, and the cross-bearer.  In my family I’m required to be the go-to guy when it’s dead of night and baby is crying.  I’m required to be law-giver, law-enforcer, and justice of the peace.  When danger knocks, I (the boy) am the first line of defense – the one ready to spill and spend my blood for those entrusted to my care.

The boy doesn’t get the luxury of down-time.  He’s the stuff of a soldier, and therefore, he’s always on call, always on duty.  He is a weapon of defense for Truth, righteousness, innocence, purity, and the vulnerable and weak.  And he can never set down his sword, never tune out the battle, and never impair the sharpness of his senses.

Now Hudson doesn’t fully realize what he is saying.  He’s “weally gwad that he’s a bwoy,” but he’s still not fully in possession of the Godly understanding on the matter.  He doesn’t completely get it yet.  And that’s okay.  Because right now, he has a bigger boy taking up the slack (aka – Daddy).  But very soon he will realize the true privilege of being a boy.  And it’s much bigger than not wearing sun dresses or, for that matter, snips, snails, and puppy dog tails – it’s the fact that the boy, in God’s economy, is privileged to be the first to die for the great cause of the Kingdom.  When all is healthy in the Church of Jesus Christ, the boys lead the charge – they take the bullets, they defend the weak, and they become the foundations stones of a heavenly kingdom.

I’m sure being a girl is a beautiful, fragrant, romantic adventure.  From what my wife tells me, “it doesn’t get any better than being a godly girl.”  I think that’s great.  But, I’m just plain thrilled to be 100% male.  So, in concert with my little buckaroo, I declare, “I’m weally gwad that I’m a bwoy!”

Here’s to wielding holy testosterone for the glory and renown of our King!

__________

For more Eric Ludy stuff visit one of the following websites

www.ericludy.com where he’s dishing out the manly stuff in blog and podcast form

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www.store.setapartlife.com where you can find all his books, music, and more

www.kiddos.setapartlife.com where you can find out the latest about the Ludy kiddos