It was another one of those melancholy days for guys. We sold my son's pickup truck and I was an accomplice. Yes, I'm feeling a bit of shame in the midst of it all.  Tami and I drove the thing an hour and a half to Detroit, Oregon where we exchanged the truck for cash.

Such a sad day.

When a guy buys a boat, it's the happiest day of his life. When he sells his boat, it's the second happiest. But when he sells his truck, it's like the dog has died. Guys and their trucks have a strange, symbiotic relationship. Somehow we get it between our ears that we are connected. That's why we put big tires with aggressive treads on them to demonstrate that somehow we are so much more than we really are.  I have to admit that I didn't feel as bad this time as the last truck I sold last year.  It was a beautiful 68 Chevy truck.  A hot rodder bought it for a build - something I would never have done on my own.  Selling that truck to that guy was bittersweet.  Okay, I was bitter; she said I couldn't keep it, and she was right - I had no business doing so.  It wasn't best for the family.  But the truck went to a better place - heaven on earth for pickups.  That truck won the lottery and because fellows attach personality and meaning to such inaimate objects, that Chevy was going to a better place without me.  Just another proof that life isn't always fair.

Driving over I called my wife who was following me in our other car. I noted how nicely our son's truck drove and wondered out loud whether or not getting rid of it would be the best thing. What I didn't say was that I was thinking that maybe we should get rid of her car instead.   But then again, that would be too "guythingish..."

I remember the beer commercials from a few years ago, where a bunch of older actors and athletes would sit around with their alcohol and make up "man laws."  It's the equivalent of beating our chests and putting on a front in order, well, to either disguise or demonstrate that we are something more than we really are.

Isn't that like life?

This reality demonstrates the need for a Savior.  We do, buy, participate and function in all kinds of ways and situations in order to bring meaning.  But in the end, nothing satisfies.  Lot's of what we do masks the insecurity and pain that many of us feel about whatever has happened in our past.  Instead, when we come to Christ we have the privilege and opportunity to actually return to the Creator and base our self-esteem on the basis of our original design.  Guythingish?  Naw, "Godthingish."