There's only one Duke kid...and you ain't him!

"I won't be wronged.  I won't be insulted.  I won't be laid a hand on.  I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them."  John Wayne, the Duke himself, said that as JB Books in the movie The Shootist.

I've always kind of had that little ideal in my head...good words to live by.  Solid words.  Man's words.  Since he's such a big man,  I pretty well ignore the fact that, in the movie, JB Books is pretty much a self-important jerk.  So self important, in fact, that he can't die like other mere mortals, for crying out loud, he wants even his death to be an event.

Maybe I ought to give more thought to the axioms I choose to live by.  I don't see any room for forgiveness or grace in Mr. Books' words.  Oh big deal, just a movie, right?  No.  Programming brings emotions, emotions bring thoughts, thoughts bring actions, and actions bring consequences.

Today, for probably the first time in better than a year, I got angry.  Not mad, not upset--I got flat out angry--angry to the core.  Pissed off, lost my SH!T angry.  And I was right to.  I was right, and righteous, and insulted, and wronged.

I actually kept my composure externally fairly well.  I didn't do any yelling or screaming.  I didn't insult anyone personally.  I was just hard.  Cold.  Mean.  Angry.

I spent the better part of the day telling others about how I was wronged.  And spoken down to.  And insulted.  I kept reliving the event in my head.  Reminding myself how good I was for not lashing out and tearing the wrong-doer apart.

And you know what?  It sucked.  It consumed me.  It ruined my day.  Completely, totally devastated my ability to find any good in anyone or anything today.

On a good note, it's not like the bad old days.  I don't have to hide from anyone, or be too awfully embarrassed as to how I behaved--externally.  Frankly, I don't think I have any apologizing to do, other than that which has already occurred.  But, I know the hate and anger that was in my heart.  I know the vile ugly door that opened that has long been shut and not a part of my heart or thoughts.  I'm not proud of that.  I'm ashamed of that.  I know.  God knows.   HE sees.  I know.

Heidi knew.  She saw it.  She remembers that guy.  I don't like that guy. She doesn't like that guy. She left THAT guy.  That guy was a miserable wreck.

You know, the Duke is entertaining on the silver screen.  Many young men who otherwise might not have had a role model could probably do much worse than to try to be like him.  I suppose you could say I picked the wrong character to make a hero.  There's certainly more Christ-like behavior in Mr. Andersen's death in The Cowboys.  Taking a beating on behalf of the kids he was trying to protect and ultimately dying for them.  Ok, sure.  Better anyway.

But I think I need to look much further back, and a bit more introspectively to find my hero.  How come we don't spend time making much of the hero that Jesus was?  What have we done in our society to make little boys want to grow up and be like Jesus?  Why don't we idolize Him?  Why don't we brag about Him?  We take our kids to church every week, send them to VBS, church camp, winter camp, whatever...if we aren't teaching them how awesome it is to be Christlike, what's the point?

Jim Burgen, pastor at Flatiron's Community Church in my hometown, did a great sermon series about Real Men, and what a real man Jesus was.  A warrior.  A winner.  A guy who wouldn't back down from anyone.  A guy big enough, and perfect enough, to give His life for us.  He talked about how we spend a lot of time thinking about white robe Jesus, petting baby animals and patting kids on the head...I don't even know where that image came from.

What about super angry, righteous, pissed off Jesus when he was flipping out, and tearing up the tables in the temple?  That Jesus was awesome.  Righteous, awesome.  And could turn around and forgive, and have grace, and give of Himself.

I want to be more like that.