Youthful vigor makes up for the wisdom of the ages. Being an excited young captain gave me dreams-a-plenty. There would be adventure, treasure, and a full crew on deck in due time. Or so I thought. I have seen other men be promoted to captain. Years of hard work and preparation culminating in their raise in rank. I have seen other men buy their way into this position. No experience, but desiring the prestige and honor that comes from being in charge of a ship. I was told that I had taken all of the correct steps to learn what was necessary, but I took charge without training under more than one captain. The problem with being a new captain is that proper training isn’t easy to come by. Men of renown and experience are rarely at universities or behind the pulpit. Intelligence doesn’t equate wisdom. A man needs to learn from the experience of others or he will learn from his own experience.

Part of gaining experience has been learning my blind spots. In learning where I couldn’t see, I realized my need for ocular surgery. My youthful vigor overcompensated for the brokenness of my eyes. Leading a crew with broken eyes can go one of two ways: either you pretend you know what you’re doing, following your best guess at the course you charted poorly, or you fess up and get help from those who have the ability to see, but learning who can see is part of gaining wisdom.

Near-sighted or Far-sighted? 

If I’m honest with myself, I’m more myopic in my approach to life than hyperopic. Most things appear very easy to see and understand when I examine them up close. Looking at each and every fine detail gives me joy in seeing the handiwork of the creator and how there is no molecule outside of his grand control. Analyzing complex theological mysteries can appear easier than how to apply those truths to living out daily life. Orthodoxy should lead to orthopraxy, but that doesn’t mean it is an automated process. It’s like knowing the names and locations of the stars, but not how to use them to navigate your ship at night. 

We are all born with talents given to us by the Creator. Without those to guide us as to how to use those talents, we may waste them away on frivolous pursuits, or bury them so they are not lost. The only right way to handle the talents is to learn to use them to glorify God. 

Seeing things in overwhelming detail is one of my talents. Communicating those details in a way that reaches the desired audience is a skill that I’ve had to develop over time. The more I learn about something, it becomes both easier for me to discuss it, and it becomes more difficult to discuss it. As I learn, my excitement grows and I want to share what I’m learning with others. Because I’m in the beginning stages of gathering information, my knowledge has not outpaced my mouth. I can communicate clearly what I’ve recently read, watched, or experienced. However, the longer I dive deep and seek out the pearls hidden in the clambeds of truth, I take for granted certain presuppositions that had to change for me to understand the complexity of the topic. These are frequently things others don’t know or view differently. This makes it more difficult to communicate what I’ve learned. 

In “Reformed” circles, especially the Young Restless and Reformed crowd, new Calvinists are referred to as “Cage Stage,” meaning that it would be better for them to be put in a cage for their own protection until they settle into the graceful nature that should flow from the doctrines of grace. Given time, those in the “cage” stage will grow into the “sage” stage and this saves many relationships. When I grasped the doctrines of grace, on my way toward confessionalism, I needed such a cage. Unfortunately, I didn’t have one. I believe that the reason so many young men who have left the “happy clappy” for the “frozen chosen” end up going through this “cage stage” is due to the lack of right leadership from elder Christians. Since many of the elders at the churches these young men are leaving didn’t support the young men in their theological growth, the young men are left either on their own to figure it out and bury their enthusiasm, or left to the internet to inflame and waste their enthusiasm. Neither is wise. I found myself inflamed by internet groups and podcasts and, in many ways, left to my own devices to forge a path forward. From Moscow to the Pub, internet wisdom was easy to find, but harder to implement. 

I recall a particular argument that I had with my wife in 2016. I was inflamed against my wife because she couldn’t grasp that Christ’s blood was 100% efficacious for those for whom he died, and 0% efficacious for those for whom he didn’t die. The term I tried to apply to her understanding was provisionism. She rejected both the label and my attempts to convince her of what I see as gospel truth. I felt the zeal rising inside me, but it was misdirected. We contacted our pastor the next morning. While he agreed with my theological position, he rebuked my methodology. This was needed. Unfortunately, there were no next steps for me nor for my wife. My wife needed to be corrected in the error of her theology by the church leadership, instead she was left in her view and I was offered no training in how to shepherd my wife and captain my vessel. I received no backup. I was essentially castrated by well-meaning churchmen. 

Years later, after many more circumstances where the elders agreed theologically, but offered neither correction for my wife, only rebukes for my lack of love, nor support for how to love her and chart a directional course in that love, I was left feeling more and more emasculated. I knew there was a systemic problem within evangelicalism, but I had no idea how bad it was until I was in the midst of its effects.

In the depths of the hardship I’m swimming in right now, I feel like I was cast overboard by the waves of life, my rank of captain stripped from me, and like my future has been taken from me. I’ve been thrust below the deck to row like a common oarsman. Rather than going to the surgeon for new eyes sooner, rather than humbling myself, I was humbled. 

But I was not alone.

In Brent Week’s Lightbringer series, the protagonist, Gavin, is the seemingly indestructible ruler of the seven kingdoms. He, along with others can use certain wavelengths of light to create a physical manifestation of the light called Luxin. Gavin has a unique talent in that he can split and use all wavelengths of visible light so he was granted the high position of Prism. In the books, the Prism acts as the spiritual leader of the kingdoms because he can see all of the goodness and light given by the deity Orholam and then bring those aspects into reality for the protection and provision of his people. 

In the third book, The Broken Eye, Gavin is wounded and left for dead. He finds that he can no longer see the colors he once could. This leaves him powerless, captured by a fierce pirate and, unable to defend himself, forced to serve as a slave below the deck as a slave on the oars. His benchmate has sarcastically been given the nickname “Orholam” because of his past as a prophet. This story arc is vital to Gavin’s growth as a person, and ultimately as a leader. He had to be wounded, humbled, and face his own unbelief while working in the dark next to an older man who knows what the pain is like and yet hasn’t given up hope. At one point, the old man tells Gavin, “When you surrender what isn’t under your control, you’re not giving up a crown, you’re giving up a yoke.” 

That is where I’ve found myself emotionally. No, I haven’t been captured by a ruthless pirate, nor have I been forced into slavery, but I have had to realize that I’m not the captain of my ship in the way that I thought. I need to take my place on the oars to feel the struggle, the sleeplessness, the grief of loss, and I need to surrender control of my life again. As I look around me, I see that I’m not alone at the oars. Christ “did not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom.” Not only is he the surgeon I need to fix my eyes, he is the co-laborer that I find myself aligned with now in his suffering (1 Corinthians 3:9). And still, he is not the only one I find myself surrounded by. There is a great cloud of witnesses who have had a life far more marked by suffering.

I’m still in the process of figuring out how to use my talents, especially in this state I’m in, but one area that I found most helpful is being surrounded by older men of the faith who have been through the hard times and have a true fear of the LORD that bred wisdom. These men have seen the descent into egalitarianism in their lifetime. Many are blue collar men or veterans who continue to live in service today. 

I truly believe there is an awakening happening in my generation and in those after. I remember many people in my youth praying and perhaps prophesying that my generation was going to host a revival for the LORD unlike those in the last several generations. However, I don’t believe this is only an emotional or spiritual revival. I believe that this revival began with a return to historic Protestantism and its theological roots. I believe that it is moving into a return to conservative values and a more traditional understanding of gendered piety, but I pray that it doesn’t stop there.

Over the last few years, I’ve seen and interacted with more and more young men who have felt emasculated by both the modern culture and church. I believe the C.S. Lewis describes this well:

The hard truth is this: while men have been told that we need to captain our ships well, the training and naval support to ward off pirates or mutinies is sorely lacking. We must respectfully press back against spiritual castration by those who would hold us to the standard of fruitful living without venturing out on our own or descending into online echo chambers. Men must rise up, be strong, and act like men, but we must also not be overcome by the machismo of the Red Pill movement or the disconnected stoicism of the Black Pill movement. As Josh pointed out a few weeks ago, we must strive for the almost impossible dichotomy of Lancelot in Lewis’s The Necessity of Chivalry by being both tender-hearted in the court of our King, but a valiant warrior in the world. Even more so, I believe this will require a level of suffering that was kept from us in our youth. 

To return to the Helm, we have to face the darkness not only of the chaotic ocean deep of the surrounding culture and church, but the darkness of our own ships while we learn to row rather than captain on our own. It is in proper training (which will be uncomfortable), proper accountability and support (which will provide comfort and wisdom rather than castration), and properly seeing God as our true and noble captain (rather than viewing ourselves as autonomous), that we may be ready to be the type of captain who points to the true master and commander of our lives.

May your bow be pointed towards the goal and God’s Spirit burn deep in your bones,

- Jeremy Puskas 🔥

If you missed Jeremy’s first time taking the helm here, tap the link to read his post Surgeon’s Sight.

If you’d like to read more from him, Jeremy’s guest posts have grown into him starting The Bonefire Substack. If you’re on the Fightin’ Poseidon crew, show my brother some love and head over to the quiet crackling of his campfire and take a seat.

While the Lightbringer series by Brent Weeks was a fascinating read, and quite involved at over 3,700 pages, it isn’t for everyone. It is heavily influenced with Christian themes, but it is not written for a Christian audience. It includes real life scenarios that aren’t sanitized. The use of language, cursing, and sexual content is mild compared to other fantasy works, but it is there. I cannot give the series a whole-hearted recommendation, but it is likely one of the best stories I’ve read in over a decade.