Of all the divisions and disagreements I’ve seen over the last decade in the Manosphere, the biggest is one that is rarely mentioned: the guys who’ve hit rock bottom and the guys who haven’t.
One one side is Mister Success with all the answers, the jet-set Lothario idly wondering which country to sample next, the bureaucrat-in-denial (hello, Pastor!) who managed to follow an Assigned Life Path to a gilded cage. The popular, wealthy and sheltered.
One the other side is Mister Frivorced who tried all the answers, the hard worker frozen out of the “global marketplace”, the poor bastard bastard who never had a father to teach him right from left. The unsexy, unworthy and unwanted.
The former do not know sympathy. In their view, if you suffer then you deserve to suffer, somehow. Failure is something you shrug at, write off your taxes and walk away from because you have three other irons in the fire.
The latter understand. Suffering is a part of life. Some failures are permanent. They’ll push you as much as the former but they do it because they’ve been there. Because helping you helps them come to terms with their own experiences. Because they want others to succeed where they didn’t. That difference in attitude is life-changing.
I myself hit rock bottom despite doing everything right. Enough so that I can’t respect an all-powerful deity playing mindfuck games with the innocent while granting the world to the scum of humanity. But I can respect Christ. He got zeroed out, too. He walked where I walk. Here is a God who understands and isn’t merely issuing decrees from on high for his amusement.
Emmanuel, God with us. Not above us.
Happy birthday, Christ Jesus. You have given humanity the greatest gift possible: “I was there, too.”