At first my heart broke, knowing that somehow she had internalized a wrong notion about the importance of men over women. But then, as I started to answer, I began to see her face lift, her eyes meet mine, and hope renew. Here’s what I said:

鈥淚n the heart of every person is a deep hunger for a father鈥攂oys and girls alike. All of us, no matter how old we get, long for something from our dads. We want to hear his words of blessing, validation, affirmation, and kindness. Even after our fathers pass away, we still long for him. It’s just the way God made us all.

But when, for whatever reason, we don’t hear those words, we don’t have that admiration, and we don’t receive that blessing, something in our hearts gets hurt. Really hurt. Maybe it’s because he has turned violent or abusive and takes out his anger or fear on his children. Or maybe he doesn’t know what to do or say, or is afraid, or doesn’t think it matters, and therefore doesn’t say anything at all. Either way鈥攙iolent or passive鈥攁 father who doesn’t give his heart to his kids hurts them deeply.

And it’s the deepest kind of hurt, and both boys and girls suffer as a result. So part of the work I do is to help men not hurt their kids or their world by being true men of God who are not violent and not passive, but instead, show up.

But there’s something more.

When girls have this kind of hurt (and ouch does it hurt), they tend to take it inward. They find ways of sitting with that hurt, and often end up hurting themselves even more. For the most part, a girl deals with this father-wound by becoming more hurtful to herself. This is a terrible consequence, of course.

But when boys have this kind of hurt (and ouch does it hurt), they tend to take it outward. Something in his heart shifts, and the rage, confusion, anger, hurt, whatever, ends up not only hurting himself, but also lots of people around him. Far more often than girls, a hurt boy ends up hurting others, and the results are even more devastating. He takes his pain and spreads it around. He has the potential to end up doing a lot of harm to other boys, other girls, and society in general. Even if he’s not violent, he grows up to be a man who continues the cycle of not giving his heart to his children, and it continues for generation to generation.

Therefore, the other part of the work I do is to help boys grow up into godly men鈥�and to help dads raise up godly men out of their boys. It’s actually because you (my daughter) are so important, so valuable, so precious, that I want to do whatever I can to help create a world that grows up good men so that you have a good husband and your children have a good father. You deserve that. It’s not that you are unimportant. In fact, it’s because you are super important!

That’s why I do what I do, that鈥檚 why I wrote , and that’s why is focused on men. We restore the world by restoring men. Does that make sense, sweetie?鈥�

I will never forget her words in response to my attempt at explanation. She pulled my hand to stop me mid-trail, buried her head into my chest and then raised her face to meet my eyes. All she said was, 鈥淭hank you,鈥� and then linked her arm into mine and invited me to skip.

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I am convinced that boys are born, but men are made. Not all males grow up to be men. Indeed, the biological imperative hurdles boys forward through their years of maturation, growing and hardening their boy bodies and brains with the stature and power of an adult. Society provides some semblance of rhythm to mark the passing of time and the graduation of boys to greater levels of intelligence or responsibility鈥攄iplomas, driver鈥檚 licenses, voting rights, drinking age, and eventually salaries and mortgages. None of these, however, makes a boy a man.

For far too many boys, something along the way has been missed. Something powerful has not been passed on. Something deeply important is lacking, and the rawness of the boy remains unfinished, hungry, and tenuous. From the outside he may look like a man, but on the inside he remains a boy. And the results are devastating.

Most of the ailments in our world today鈥攆rom misogyny and violence against women to poverty and obesity, from the burgeoning sex industry to the increase in substance abuse and teenage pregnancy, from the rising divorce rate to the drastic drop in father-present homes鈥攃an be directly linked to the absence of intentional fathering (specific statistics are available ). Where fathers are overwhelmingly absent or unintentional, boys have no guide to show them the way.

I believe the key to altering the course of our society away from devastation and towards restoration and goodness is through an intentional fathering process for our boys鈥攁 clear initiation of our boys into manhood. We must make men. 鈥淚t is in the womb of masculine initiation that the boy鈥檚 metamorphosis into manhood occurs.鈥澛� Without a process, without a clearly defined movement from boyhood into manhood, boys wander in alone.

Ancient cultures knew this all too well, and for millennia entire cultures orbited around the intentional development of their boys as they raised them into manhood. One African proverb states: 鈥淚f we do not initiate our boys, they will burn down the village to feel the heat.鈥� Rites of passage for boys can be found in the history of almost every society in the world, regardless of geography or religion. 鈥淭hese practices created a predictable passage that societies handed down from generation to generation, offering boys an undeniable place in the manhood community. In many cases, these rites of passage served to protect the society from the tragic results of unfinished men.鈥澛� But our society does not have these rites. And it鈥檚 killing us.

I am the father of a teenage son, and I鈥檓 taking this to heart. If there is anyone in his life who is designed by God to make a man out of my boy, it鈥檚 me. And I fully embrace this calling, though not without significant fear and trembling. I do not have a tremendous rite of passage story of my own. In fact, I aim my intention at my son out of my own lack and from a narrative of confusion and pain. Yet I refuse to allow another generation in my family to pass by without standing in the gap and intentionally attempting to usher him into the fullness of the manhood God designed for him. It is already in him longing to be released, and I know that I, his father, hold the key.

Boys are born. Men are made. 鈥淚 believe the greatest and most long-lasting gift fathers can give to their sons is found not in wills, wealth, or inheritance, but in the intentional fathering and blessing of a father鈥檚 true guidance from boyhood to manhood.鈥澛� It is out of this belief and calling that I crafted a modern-day rites of passage process for my son and called it the Man Maker Project. It is my hope to inspire a generation of fathers who will embrace their responsibility鈥攅ven despite their own pain鈥攖o move towards their sons with intentionality and purpose.

Dan Allender states in the foreword of the book: 鈥淩emember you are taking your son on the hunt of his life. May you give him truth, kindness, honor, and your trust鈥攁nd in due season, the promise that he will become a man.鈥� Indeed, it is the hunt of his life, and yours. Fathering our sons in turn fathers us.

鹿Man Maker Project, p. 19.

虏Man Maker Project, p. 20.

鲁Man Maker Project, p. 21.

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鈥淚f you are endeavoring to lead your son into the choppy waters of masculinity, few things are more vital than an intentional look at your own heart鈥檚 depravity and glory. A bold reflection on your own story, and the healing of those places that remain unfinished or devastated, will launch you toward the fullness of God鈥檚 design for men. Simply put, have the guts to do your own work.鈥� (Man Maker Project, p. 15)

I have worked in the corporate world, served as a missionary in the Middle East during 9/11 and the Iraq War, been physically assaulted with a knife, started a small business, launched a nonprofit, moved across the country multiple times, and suffered deep loss at the early death of several friends, but nothing has terrified or paralyzed me more than fathering my own son. Fathering him has required more of me than any other adventure or tragedy in my life, because it has demanded that I first face my own father-story with an intensity and intentionality I would rather flee than engage.

As a boy, I lived the typical American life. My parents more than adequately provided for my needs. I had friends, lived in the suburbs, and did well in school. I even had a horse. From the outside looking in, I had nothing to complain about. Any time the haunting ache of father-hunger emerged from my soul, I quickly squelched it, denying the longing and telling myself to simply move on. It is the story of most men in my generation.

I continued to live as if all was well, until I married and had a son of my own. His arrival in my world required that I now call myself father, and the weight this title carried sent my soul into a tailspin. What is father? Who is father? Who am I as father? What does it mean to father? And finally, with the force of a left upper jab to the jaw, How was I fathered? I realized that in order to father him, I myself still needed to be fathered. I had to name my ache. And I hated it.

Intentional fathering requires an uncommon courage, a heightened level of bravery to truly investigate and name the glory and pain experienced in our own narratives as boys. In my conversations with men about their father-stories, the most frequent sentence I hear is, 鈥淢y dad did okay. He did the best he could.鈥� Yes, I鈥檓 sure he did. But underneath this platitude lurks an unnamed desire, a longing that has gone unmet for far too long, and a hunger that has been more denied than fed. No child wants an 鈥渙kay鈥� dad. Every child longs for a dad to know, see, pursue, hope, envision, create, and bless. But far too often, we (especially men) deny the emptiness that still lingers in our souls for fear of indicting our fathers for their lack. By refusing to name our pain, we allow it to live unchallenged and unhealed.

Richard Rohr states, 鈥淚f we do not transform our pain, we will transmit it in some form.鈥� As a man, it is easy to fall into the small stories peddled by our society as worthy of a man鈥檚 life: work hard and succeed, buy big toys that go fast, focus on retirement and be a good, nice guy. Far too many men swallow this enticing story hook, line, and sinker, and choose to live under a veneer of denial. The truth is, they remain unfinished and hungry. Untransformed pain from our fathers, whether from his absence, vacancy, or violence, will inevitably be transmitted to our sons.

鈥淚f I have any hope of ushering my son into his manhood, I must believe that God, by his restorative design, will also usher me into my manhood. The more I can engage my own story, my own journey, and my own masculine narrative, the more I can provide my son the freedom to discover his.鈥� (Man Maker Project, p. 14)

I can only take my son as far as I myself have gone. I live among a generation of men who recognize the importance and value of fathering well. Many men I know want to change the course of history by intentionally shaping the future for our sons. Too often, however, we create empty programs and anemic lessons that are removed from the power of our own narratives. Our sons were born into an already-existing story鈥�our story鈥攁nd in order for them to know who they are, we need to know who we are.

The first step to fathering the next generation of men is to plumb the depths of glory and pain in our own stories. From this place of freedom, we can usher our sons into a manhood we can come to know together.

鈥淵ou do not need to be a perfect man to father well. But you do need to be an honest man who boldly and truthfully enters his own father-story, seeking restoration in your own soul as you seek to strengthen the soul of your son.鈥� (Man Maker Project, p. 14)

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The intensity of his eyes vacillated between pain, rage, and vacancy as he spoke of his experience of his father. Stephen* grew up the oldest of two boys in a family with an 鈥渙k鈥� dad鈥攖hat is, a father who did the typical status-quo dad-things like providing food and clothing, taking the kids to church, and not hanging out too late at the bars or chasing skirts. From the outside, the family seemed relatively stable. From the outside.

Stephen told me last week, 鈥淚 had a dad, but I did not respect him. There was not much about him that I liked, and he certainly did nothing worth mimicking or modeling myself after. He was a complete dud. And he left me alone to father myself.鈥�

And Stephen struggled. He regularly got poor grades, got picked on by the bullies, got overlooked by the girls, and found himself struggling with no direction or purpose in life. He told me, 鈥淚 waited for dad to come. I waited for him to do something with me, for me, or even to me that would rescue who I was. But he did nothing. Nothing. He didn鈥檛 play a role. He filled a spot.鈥� Now, as a mid-thirties man with a family of his own, Stephen wrestles with a malaise of depression, anxiety, loss of love for his wife, and a deep confusion about what it means to be a man.

Stephen鈥檚 story is not unique. In fact, it is far too common. There are a million variations, but ultimately the story rings scarily familiar for most鈥攆or men and women alike. Dad was not there.

In this story of pain and vacancy, 鈥渇ather鈥� is a noun. It鈥檚 a spot. A place. A square block in a family tree. A seat at the proverbial dinner table or, better yet, a place on the couch. Father as a noun raises a generation of empty, angry, lonely, and confused people. Father as a noun leads us nowhere, envisions nothing for us, and creates no vision for our future.

On the contrary, I believe the truest use of the word 鈥渇ather鈥� is as a verb鈥攁n action, an intention, a purpose, a catalyst that sets into motion a series of God-ward results that change the course of history for individuals and society alike. Fathering is the highest calling of God on men; whether or not they have children, all men are designed and called to father.

Fathering is a combination of strong and purposeful intention mixed with hopeful kindness. To father is not to fill a man鈥檚 genealogical spot, but for him to engage his world with masculine intentionality that speaks life, direction, faith, vision, and delight for generations to come. Father is a verb.

In my work as a therapist and ministry leader, I often have the distinct privilege of coming alongside people in stories of their deepest wounds. And while the craftiness of evil takes on many forms in its attempts to steal, kill, and destroy the beauty and glory of human dignity, far too often I see a common weapon of decimation: fatherlessness. This is an ancient war waged on men鈥攔educe fathers to a role, remove fathers鈥� intentionality and replace it with passivity or violence, and render fathers uninterested or unequipped to engage their progeny.

Wherever 鈥渇ather鈥� is merely a noun, fatherlessness exists, emptiness results, and death follows. But wherever 鈥渇ather鈥� is a verb鈥攚here men father the world鈥攈ope grows, vision stirs, life springs, and the shape of history turns toward restoration.

Stories like Stephen鈥檚 have rung far too true for far too many for far too long. Yet the tide is shifting as a generation of men now stands on the precipice of engaging their God-given glory as men who father. A movement of men has begun to rise, decisively turning their hearts towards their children and their world with restorative intention. I believe it is this force of strength and kindness among men that will write new narratives for generations to come.

*Name and details have been changed to protect confidentiality.

Check back here in coming weeks for two more reflections from Chris Bruno.

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