wrestling with the man in the middle

Excerpt from the 50,000 words...

This weekend the girls went to Panama City. Just before they left Andie was playing with a new Barbie and she was very excited. She came to me and asked if she could take the bad man. I didn’t know what she was talking about. After a few minutes I realized that she was talking about the Aragorn figure I have from the Lord of the Rings that I keep in my closet. I wonder why did she call him the bad man?

Compared to her fair-haired beautiful princess, Aragorn does seem dirty, nasty, and just plain old bad. But the reality is that Aragorn doesn’t have any issues with the way he looks on the outside. He is on a different road. He is on a road to find out what his place is in the world of men. He is guided by the ache in his belly that something is not right. Part of his ache comes from the wrongs that his father has done. His father was once a king of the race of men and held the power of the ring to bring harmony back to the people of middle earth but he was captured by the grip of evil pride and wanted the ring for himself. The shame that came from this family curse drove Aragorn underground in many ways. He hid his true identity from the world because of the shame of his father. He no longer went by his name Aragorn, but was known as Stryder. He was, in fact, the rightful heir to the throne, but he was not acting like it. He was not being who he was created to be.

I too have had my share of hiding from my own identity. When I was about the age where most boys come into puberty, I had come into the world of naked people. I had no idea why the magazines were so open about the nakedness. I knew something was not right, but nonetheless I found myself aroused by the women in them. During this time I began to chase girls. Chasing was chasing for the sake of capturing and claiming; claiming as one who claims a prize at the end of a great battle. Looking back I really didn’t care much about them as a person, I just wanted to see them naked. I wanted to touch in the real world what I had only dreamed about in my magazine fantasy world. Because of this driven desire to feel the breast of a girl, I quickly was named pervert in middle school. At first it didn’t bother me, because on one level it was like being called a name that was normally associated with grownups. As a preteen boy, I liked being named a manly nickname even if it was nasty and twisted. But with the nickname came an identity that I did not know. I didn’t realize the identity of this nickname was so damaging.

A year later, I remember turning a corner and not being so driven by the desire, but rather became more interested in having someone who really liked me for who I was. Well, this was rather difficult because in the world of girls I already had an identity; I was a bad boy. I began to understand and to resent my foolish actions as a boy. I wanted to get away from that part of me.

I wasn’t ashamed so much as I was mad at the fact that now that I wanted to change, but the perception of the pervert was still there. I was stuck in a real dilemma. I did the only thing I knew to do; I had to recreate myself. It came at a perfect time. I was leaving middle school and entering the ninth grade, so I changed my name from David to Michael. I had associated the name David with all the accusations of a dirty little perverted boy. I wanted to escape that part of me, so I abandoned my middle name and began to go by my first name.

For my family, changing my name was a huge thing. David was a family name. My uncle, my grandfather, his father, and my own father all had the name David. So switching from that name meant a real sign of rebellion in the family. I was stepping outside of the family name in a way. I would later in life come to find out that the twisted view of sex was handed down from generation to generation just like the name was. No wonder I wanted to escape the heavy burden of the name. It was a generational curse.

With this new identity, I was free to explore the new me. It was great to have people call me Michael. It was so cool and so freeing. I had associated this mental picture that Michael was a person that people looked up to, a person of good social standing. With the name Michael, in my mind, there was no “bad boy” association. Life was good.

Looking back now I think it is interesting that I was stepping away from the “center” of my name. David was the name that was in the middle of my full name. Maybe going to my first name was like moving from the center and taking the elevator to the surface. Maybe Michael was just the surface part of my identity.

Dang this is some crazy stuff. Lord please help me to walk through this and not give up; grant me the courage to keep going.

Now it is not that Michael is not who I am, because it is a part of who I am. It is just not the full person of who I am. Since high school I have continued to be known as Michael. I really hate it when people call me Mike: One, because it is the name that my dad goes by, and I am not my dad; second, it is a shortened version of Michael, which on some level says to me you really don’t know me at all. If you did know me, you would not call me Mike.

My full name.

So Andie wants to take Aragorn with her on her trip with the girls to Panama City to visit with grandma. Grandma has also had a change of names. Last year the girls decided to change Grandma to Memaw. This was kind of weird for me because I called my dad’s mom Memaw. It was Memaw that knew me as “little David.” So I really had an awkward time calling Darla’s mom Memaw. I did love my Memaw with all of my being. She would always send me birthday cards with money, but even more she would write these incredible words of encouragement on the inside of the card. She would write of how every day she would pray that I would grow up to be the man that God had created me to be and how proud she was of me. I would be so encouraged by the cards, and some years I would be incredibly ashamed by how much I was not being the man that God had created me to be. Remembering her is remembering the internal battle of identity that would rage inside my being. May my Memaw rest in peace and may her prayers be answered some day soon.

So Andie, who is my last born child, carries with her the figure of Aragorn, a man struggling to find out who he really is. I can’t help but to wonder what significance that has. You see, Andie has this funny way about telling people her name. For some reason as she has grown up I have called her not by her first name only, but by her first and last name, Andie Winn. It is not that I have neglected that middle name. In fact, that middle name has a very special role in my family too. Her middle name is Renee. Renee is my aunt. I first met her on a trip to Panama City where my grandparent’s had moved when I was going into the eight grade or so. She saw me with innocent eyes. She too called me “little David.” This wasn’t a putdown like I was small in nature. It was more of a term of endearment because she was dating and would soon marry my uncle who was "her David." I looked up to my Uncle. He was the coolest man I had ever known. He was and is very creative. He was so outgoing. Everyone liked him. He and I would always hang out late at night when I went over to my grandparent’s house. I remember he made these beautiful stained glass pictures. Ahh, he was just magic. So to be called “little David” by Renee was for me to be named by someone who is being who they were created and called to be and to follow in the footsteps of someone you admire.

Again, Andie is carrying with her to Panama City, the place where my family is deeply connected, a man figure who she sees as dirty, but nonetheless wants to take him along with her. I can’t help but to draw on the idea that she, as one who goes by her full name and has no associations with that name, is carrying with her in a symbolic way a token of me. For I am a man, who is struggling with and coming to grips with who I am, and who I am to be in the world of men. Maybe there is hope in the innocence of youth.

Throughout the sacred stories of scripture men have wrestled with their identity, so I am not alone. Jacob, Isaac’s son, grandson of Abraham, was the one to first tell the story of his wrestling match with his true self. For years as a young man, he wanted something his brother had. He deceived his father to give him the birthright and later the blessing of the family that was rightfully his brother's. At one point, he has told his name as Esau for so long he has forgotten who he really is. But one night he comes face to face with the One who created him. He faces the One who knows what his shape is to be in the world of men. The One knows the real Jacob. Two times the Angel of the Lord asks Jacob, what is your name. Jacob returns the question, who is asking, and both times he is reminded of the times that he has not been Jacob. The third time Jacob responds by telling the truth; he is Jacob. It is at that time that the One who created him to be responds and tells him the fullness of his name will be realized in a nation of men. His full name is inside; his name is Israel, the people of God. Now that is finding out one’s true identity.

So I am David, the boy who was taken advantage of and who took advantage of others. I am also “little David” who is a creative and caring person to those who need a mentor. I am Michael, the one who goes out and seeks new ways to reach the desired location. And I am Michael, the one who faced the darkness in order that I might see the light. In the Hebrew language, Michael is one who is like unto God. And David is the beloved one. I am in the fullest sense, in the acknowledgement of the past wrongs of my family, reconciled to the One who restores all things, I am made in the image of the First and the Last, I am son to the Father of all men, I am Michael David Winn.

Today Lord I have come before You in the awesome power of your grace and I have confessed my life before You. May You now take me and restore my soul that I might be Your signet ring in the world of man where your Kingdom reigns and rules. May you write the rest of this story. Thank you for your incredible forgiveness. I have forgiven myself and those who have hurt me. May you release them from the bondage that I have kept them in; my father, my friend, and those who knew me as the boy. May my family know first the real me. May I be a blessing to the ones I hold dear. For what might have destroyed my family You have given to me as a redeemed story of grace to bind together in love the strongest cords of hope. Bless your Name. I cannot say enough. My heart is full of Your presence. I sense that you are here with me in this quiet space and have spoken to my heart as I have typed out these words. These are the truest words from my soul. You are the One who holds my soul in Life. You have given me true life. May I no longer strive to please men or to be held by the need for their words. For You have said that I am good and You have picked me up when I have fallen and You have brought me to the mirror of myself and have given me eyes to see the full image of me. You have given me the restored identity of Michael David Winn. You are completeness. You are real soul seeking. You are the place of brokenness made whole. Keep me centered here in You. Help me to speak from my full name, the name that You gave to me. This name is not my own but was given to me by my Lord. May I give back in service of gratitude to the One who gave me breath. Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and all that is within me. Bless Your holy Name.

I cannot express how incredible this time has been writing down this stuff. It really doesn’t matter if this piece of work becomes something. For I have already profited by this work in ways that I cannot express. I will look to see how I might give back to the Lord what He has produced through me. I will seek to give back a portion, a symbolic token of this restoration story. Lord grant me Your powerful creative words to tell the story to the ones who think they know who You are but have no idea because they have not been willing to look at themselves acknowledging the dark so that the light may come in. You take these words, Your words, and You bring them to life. For You are the One who is the Word, the Word made flesh that came and dwelt in the full presence in the world of men. Amen.