Gentleness, A Great Source Of Strength

​It was an intense sequence.

Players scrambling for the ball, sticks flying, a bump (or shove 🤷‍♂️) or two.

It was lacrosse at its most heated.

When the dust settled, I watched Ian approach an opponent. I saw his smile, even through his mask and from 50 yards away. I saw his hand rise and then settle in a gentle pat on the opponents head.

Then back to business he went.

To me, his dad, I felt like I'd just watched him make a big steal or score a goal. Such a simple moment, less than a second, but the kind of dad moment I want to forever freeze in time, a memory that outlives his teen years by forever.

Lysa TerKeurst says, “Gentleness is not weakness. It is strength under control.”

We live in a world that too much lately, in my opinion, hesitates to operate from a place of gentleness. I think this is especially true of men. Is it because too many have come to believe gentleness is a sign of weakness? Have too many men been conditioned to believe that gentleness is the opposite of strength, when in truth, it often takes more strength to be gentle than to be forceful?

From a young age, many boys are often taught to “man up,” “tough it out,” or “never let them see you cry.” These messages equate emotional softness or empathy with weakness. Gentleness becomes something to suppress, not something to practice.

For many reasons, I have never once encouraged my boys to "man up." I spent most of my life out-toughing the toughest of them only to get to the end of my capacity to hold onto one more ounce of toughness feeling like life had beaten every ounce of toughness from me.

So to stand there and see my kid instinctively respond with gentleness - to see him retreat immediately from the fight of sport back to the kindness of humanity - that was encouraging to me.

Encouraging as a father.

Maybe more encouraging as a human.

The world can make you think gentleness will get you eaten alive. I have come to believe little actually makes you feel more alive.

Gentleness.