Straight Talk to Men: Timeless Principles for Leading Your Family - Softcover

James C. Dobson

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1414391315 ISBN 13: 9781414391311

Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, 2014

Synopsis

God's job description for men! In this classic work on the biblical roles and responsibilities of a man, Dr. James Dobson shares timeless wisdom you can use as a husband and father. A deeper understanding of God's perspective on manhood will help you provide stability and leadership in your home--and ultimately enjoy these benefits of a family that pleases God:

• A God-given sense of your purpose in the home
• A clear understanding of masculinity in today's world
• A wife who feels supported and loved
• Children who know God and feel good about themselves
• A solid system of family finances
• Meaningful times of togetherness and mutual encouragement

Straight Talk to Men is a clear-headed, trustworthy resource that belongs on every man's bookshelf. (This new edition is part of Dr. James Dobson's Building A Family Legacy initiative.)

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Straight Talk to Men

Timeless Principles for Leading Your Family

By JAMES DOBSON

Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

Copyright © 1991 James Dobson, Inc.
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4143-9131-1

Contents

A Man Looks Back, 
1. A Man Looks Back, 8, 
2. A Man and His Sexual Identity, 29, 
What Is a Man?, 
3. My Father, 48, 
4. The Revelation, 55, 
5. The Heritage, 61, 
A Man and His Children, 
6. A Man and His Children, 68, 
7. A Man and His Ultimate Priority, 85, 
8. A Man and His Authority, 94, 
9. Questions Pertaining to Children, 109, 
A Man and His Wife, 
10. A Man and His Wife, 132, 
11. A Man and the Straight Life, 153, 
A Man and His Work, 
12. A Man and His Work, 168, 
13. A Man and His Money, 181, 
A Man and His Masculinity, 
14. A Man and a Woman and Their Biological Differences, 192, 
15. Whatever Happened to the Women's Liberation Movement?, 201, 
A Man and His Emotions, 
16. A Man and His Midlife Years, 208, 
17. A Man and His Emotions, 218, 
18. A Man and His Animals, 227, 
A Man and His God, 
19. A Man and His God, 233, 
20. A Man and His Death, 243, 
Notes, 251, 

CHAPTER 1

A Man Looks Back

The first edition of the book you are about to read was written more than two decades ago. It has sold more than a million copies since its publication and continues to represent my best understanding of what it means to be a man ... God's man ... in today's topsy-turvy world.

I was forty-four years old when Straight Talk to Men and Their Wives was first published, and indeed, several experiences in my personal life were highly relevant to its content. My father had died recently (as you will read in chapter 3) confronting me with my own mortality. My own unexpected heart attack some years later served to emphasize the point. Our children were still at home and our house was fairly crackling with adolescent activity. Most importantly, I was knee-deep in the infamous midlife years as I sat down to write.

As it turned out, I never did go through what is commonly known as a classic midlife crisis (as described in chapter 16), but I did do my share of critical thinking during that era. By contrast, many of my friends and associates did struggle through a troubling experience in their forties. Some even went a little crazy when they realized that youth was gone and life was rapidly passing them by. Although sympathetic to their distress, I found it somewhat amusing to watch these men trying desperately to hold on to what was already long gone.

Twenty-plus years ago, and to some degree today, men in midlife crisis wore their self-doubt like a walking billboard for the whole world to see. Suit coats and ties were replaced by garish silk shirts, which were always left unbuttoned down in the direction of the navel. A bushy array of gray chest hair was usually on display. It had been carefully blow-dried. A gold medallion on a chain was usually nestled in the curly crop, presumably as a testimonial to youthful vigor. The men also did weird things with their hair, attempting to make a little look like a lot. (The frustrating thing about aging is that hair won't grow on the top, but it sprouts abundantly in the nose and ears.) In serious cases of baldness, this meant whipping the sideburns over the top and then cementing everything in place with super glue. Sharp-pointed Italian type shoes finished off the garb, accompanied by Rolex watches (probably fake) and heavy jewelry on both hands. So much for the appropriate uniform.

Men in midlife crisis then sought to beef up their image with racy automobiles. Their cars had to be sleek, fast, and hot. A Porsche or a Ferrari conveyed the proper message, but a guy with financial problems might have to settle for a Volkswagen with mag wheels. Thus outfitted, the aging gentleman and his shaky ego set out to conquer worlds unknown.

Sexual conquest was, and still is, the ultimate proof of virility for the over-the-hill gang. These men often try their luck with younger ... hopefully gorgeous ... ladies. They flirt with their secretaries and make passes at every skirt that passes by. They are also frustrated by their wives' age, because it reminds them of their own.

I heard of one such man who came in one night and asked his wife what she was smearing on her face.

"Cold cream," she replied.

"What's it for?" he asked naively.

"Wrinkles," came the response.

He thought for a moment and then said, "Well the stuff is working. You got a whole raft of 'em."

An article that appeared in a local newspaper described another man with a similar attitude who abandoned his wife and ran off with another woman. This is what it said,

A young man spotted a Mercedes for sale in a newspaper. He telephoned to inquire, assuming the figure must be a typographical error. A woman answered the phone and told him the figure was correct. He asked whether or not the car was damaged. "No, it's in perfect condition," she told him. Then why was she selling it at such a ridiculously low price? "Well, my husband just phoned me from Las Vegas. He's there with his secretary. He told me he's leaving me and that he went broke gambling. He asked me to sell the Mercedes and send him half of what I got for it. That's just what I'm going to do!"

This playboy is only beginning to realize what his fun and games will cost him. The consequences of infidelity usually reverberate for a lifetime and touch every member of the family. I'm thankful, as I indicated earlier, that I did not experience these same pressures that brought the roof down on some of my friends. Shirley and I have now been married for over forty years and I couldn't be happier about that fact. I own no silk shirts and I drive a four-door sedan. Nevertheless, I was confronted during the forties by some of the same unsettling thoughts that gnaw at the souls of other men in the midlife years.

It is almost impossible to bridge the awesome gap between the thirties and the fifties without wandering for a time through a dark valley. My journey was no exception. For at least seven years, I went through a period best described as a time of "contemplative reassessment." I was busily dealing in that decade with the many disturbing thoughts that echo through the mind of a man who realizes suddenly that he will not live forever. Whether he is a Christian, an atheist, an agnostic, or a New Ager, he must come to terms with these kinds of questions: "Who am I, really?" and "What am I doing here?" and "Is this the way I want to spend the rest of my life?" and "What really matters to me?" and "Who put me here?" and "What did He have in mind for me to accomplish?" and "Is Someone keeping score?" and "Is there life after death?" and "What will it be like to die?" These and many related questions seem to descend on men in rapid succession in midlife.

As a deeply committed believer in Jesus Christ, I had already answered the questions related to my faith and my relationship with my Maker. Nevertheless, I needed to transform my beliefs from a youthful abstraction to a personal reality. I also needed to get a new fix on my circumstances and objectives. Have you arrived at that point in life? Have you ever felt like you were running so fast and were so involved and entangled with the task of living that you were failing to notice about 90 percent of what was happening around you? That's what was going on in my mind. By the time I had paid my taxes, fixed the leak in the roof, changed the tires on the car, raised my kids, and done my job and all the other stuff expected of me, an entire decade had gone by and it was only a blur in my memory. There are times like these for all of us when we need to pull back and say, "Just a minute, here, I need to do some thinking. Stop shouting at me, world, until I can get myself together."

That process of reevaluation took about seven years to complete. I emerged from it with a stronger dedication to the fundamentals of what I had been taught ... and to a determination to "stay the course." Specifically, there were two conclusions that jumped out at me and which now serve as centerpieces of my system of values. Neither is new or particularly unique, but perhaps my readers will find it helpful to review the basics on which family and spiritual stability are grounded.

The first realization that has shaped my attitude toward everything else has already been mentioned. I came face to face with the breathtaking brevity of life. The passage of time seemed like a well-greased string that was sliding through my taut fingers. I was but a short-term visitor on this planet. It is a tremendous shock to the system when it first sinks in that you are simply "passin' through."

I remember sitting in church one day when I was forty-eight years old, and I was thinking about what it would be like to be fifty. Then I thought of my father's death at sixty-six. "Wow," I said to myself. "I may only have eighteen years left." Then I began calculating the meaning of those figures. (The sermon that morning must have been uninspiring.) I quickly realized that if I had lived forty-eight years and had eighteen to go, I had already "burned" 72 percent of my allotted time. What a stomach-grabber for a man who still thought of himself as Joe College! Nine years earlier, I had been in my thirties ... still considered youthful ... but two years hence I would be in my fifties ... with only 24 percent of a lifetime left. Furthermore, there was not the slightest guarantee that I would be granted even one more hour.

I thought again about the meaning of the term "midlife." It is a seductive lie for most of us; the middle thirties are the midlife years and the forties are the "two-thirds" years. In my case, I had hit the three-fourths years by age forty-eight. A humorous notion, perhaps, but a hammer blow to this guy who thought of himself as a very young man.

There were other insults. In an incident that has now become almost a "trademark" for me, I went to the YMCA one day to play basketball. I was an out-of-towner and unfamiliar with the guys who routinely played there in Dallas. I must have looked eighty years old to the teenagers on the court that day. They couldn't figure why a decrepit dude like me would think he could play a young man's game. But what could they do? I was there and they had to include me.

We divided the troops that day into a four-on-four arrangement, and I was assigned to guard a seventeen-year-old black athlete. This kid was loaded with natural talent, and he knew it. He was as smooth as silk. Despite the mismatch, however, I rose to the challenge. I reached back about twenty years and pulled up some moves long forgotten. Adrenalin surged through my body, and the old thrill came back. Through luck and pluck, I scored about three quick baskets in the face of this young hotshot. With that, he took a step back, put his hands on his hips, and said, "Man! You must have been sompin' in yo' prime!"

His words stuck in my heart. "My prime?! I couldn't even remember my prime!" I soon grabbed my warm-up jacket and headed back to the hotel. My self-concept wobbled violently for a few days.

Many writers have attempted to describe this emotional impact of comprehending life's brevity for the first time. One of my favorites is the late Erma Bombeck. I saw her as a guest on the "Phil Donahue Show" when she was asked if she was sensitive about her age.

"Not at all," she replied.

"Then how old are you?" Phil asked.

"I'm somewhere between estrogen and death," she answered.

Erma went on to say that her next-door neighbor wore a pacemaker, and every time he sneezed, her garage door opened.

Some of Mrs. Bombeck's pronouncements were not intended to be funny, however. In fact, they contained striking observations about life. One such statement about the aging process appeared in her book If Life Is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits? Included in that collection of writings was a short piece entitled "When Does the Mother Become the Daughter and the Daughter Become the Mother?" It focused on her relationship with her own mom, which underwent a radical role reversal with the passage of time. Her mother had always been so strong, so independent and secure. Erma admired her and attempted to model herself after the one who had brought her into the world. But in recent years, the mother was undeniably becoming more childlike.

Erma first noticed the change when they were riding in a car one day. She was driving, and her mom was sitting near the right front door. Suddenly, an emergency occurred causing Erma to slam on the brakes. Instinctively, she reached out to keep her mother from hitting the windshield. When the crisis had passed, the two women sat looking at one another. Each realized that something had changed in their relationship ... for in prior years Mom would have attempted to protect Erma.

Then there was the following Thanksgiving when Erma baked the turkey and her mother set the table. Clearly, the mother was becoming the daughter and the daughter was becoming the mother. As time passed, the transformation became more dramatic. When the two women were going shopping, it was Erma who said, "My goodness, don't you look nice in that new dress" and, "Don't forget to wear your sweater so you won't be cold in the department stores." Echoing in her mind was the advice of a concerned mother, "Button up your coat, Erma. Wear you galoshes, stay warm, take care of yourself."

Erma understood the new role she was asked to play, but resisted it vigorously. She didn't want to see this strong, noble woman become dependent ... childlike ... insecure. Nevertheless, the inexorable march of time could not be resisted. She had to get her mother up at night to take her to the bathroom and to care for most of her physical needs. How different the relationship had become. When Erma was a kindergartner, she had made a plaster of paris "hand," which decorated the kitchen for years. Forty years later, Mom was sent to a senior citizen's crafts class where she made a macramé. It eventually hung in her room in the Bombeck home.

As senility began to creep in, Erma found her own frustration rising to a crescendo. She said, "Mom! Will you please quit talking about seeing Dad last night. You know he's been gone for ten years." But Mom couldn't help it because she was no longer mentally competent. That completed the transformation. The mother had become the daughter and the daughter became the mother.

Shortly thereafter, Erma and her own daughter were riding in a car one day. There was a sudden stacking of cars and the illumination of brake lights. Instinctively, the daughter reached out to protect Erma from hitting the windshield. They looked at each other for a moment, and Erma said, "My Lord! How quickly!!"

How quickly, indeed! One of the most wrenching experiences of the forties for me was watching my mother become my daughter and beginning to look at me as her father. She and my dad had been best friends, and his loss was devastating to her. She never fully recovered from his sudden death. It was as though she had been cut in half.

I remember making a fatherly visit to see my mother one day in her little condo. After leaving, I wrote down a portion of our conversation as a reminder of that period of her life. This is the exact interchange that took place:

"How you doing today?"

"I'm holding my own."

"Are you missing dad today?"

(pause) "I miss him every day."

"I know. What do you suppose he's doing right now?"

"I wish I knew. He's probably off on Mars or Jupiter learning about how they're made."

"You loved him, didn't you, Mom?"

"I loved him, Jim."

"Mom, I worry about you staying in this condo too much. You really need to get out and mix with people—get involved in something."

"No, I'm all right. I just don't have any desire to go anymore."

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, Jim."

The son was becoming the father and the mother was becoming the daughter. Her mind then began to slip and many of the experiences of Erma Bombeck became my own. Mom was soon afflicted with Parkinson's disease and slowly began a long descent toward her death in 1988. Another conversation occurred twenty-one months before her passing that proved to be historic. I recorded the following comments on a pocket Dictaphone immediately after a remarkable encounter had transpired.

Shirley and I just visited my mother in the nursing home where she resides. She has been rather deeply into senility in recent weeks and has been unable to either understand what we say or communicate with us. Yet today the Lord granted us a brief reprieve. She was asleep when we arrived and we gently sat on her bedside and awakened her. She instantly recognized us, and for the first time in weeks she was able to express her thoughts and understand the love that we gave to her. I took that opportunity, not knowing if it would return, to stroke her forehead and pat her hand and thank her for being a good mother. I thanked her for being a good wife to my father—a good pastor's wife, even though it was he who was called to the ministry. I thanked her for living according to the principles of Christianity and staying true to the Christ whom she accepted when she was twenty years old. I stroked her face and thanked her for sacrificing to help me through college, doing without things that she needed. I thanked her for coming to our house when we were on our honeymoon and putting twenty dollars worth of groceries and staples in our cupboard when I knew she didn't have those same items in hers. I told her how she was loved, not only by us, but by the Lord Himself. She smiled—she understood. She took my hand and said, "You know I've been thinking." And I said, "What have you been thinking about?" And she said, "That it's almost over. I've almost made it. It's almost done." I said, "Mom, when you make that crossing, you know my dad is going to be waiting for you on the other side." She smiled and understood. Then I said, "Jesus is waiting for you, too. And He's going to say, 'Well done! Thou good and faithful servant.'" Then I prayed for her and thanked the Lord for the influence of a good woman, and for her love in my life. She returned our love and we said good-bye. At this stage of life, we never know when the last opportunity to communicate soul to soul has occurred. If this proves to be that last window of opportunity, I am grateful for the Lord's presence in that room today.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Straight Talk to Men by JAMES DOBSON. Copyright © 1991 James Dobson, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers
• Publication date: 2014
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1414391315
• ISBN 13: 9781414391311
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 256