Minutes in the Mancave

Man-cave - A man cave (also sometimes mantuary) is a male sanctuary, such as a specially equipped garage, spare bedroom, media room, den, or basement. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mancave

We have a man-cave in our house. It is a room that I seldom enter. It is completely ruled by the testosterone king, aka my sweet hubby. By his request, I enter the man cave only when invited. Its door is hallowed and it's floors are sacred. Okay, well it's more like the door is always closed because the floors are littered with junk mail and Cabella's catalogs. If I dare throw any of it away, I am sure to toss something that he was going to use, or needed as reference for his next purchase of a hunting rifle, buck knife or fishing reel. 

At first it was difficult for me to let go of control. The man cave was once known as our charming guest room. I spent hours picking out the color, the Americana/rustic decor and the most comfortable mattress for the custom antique bed. I guess I did a great job, because he immediately found the room cozy and inviting. I didn't think much of it when he added the TV, and then the small fridge to the room. How nice that would be for our guests. 

It is no longer a guest room. In fact, in the eyes of my man, it is clearly not my responsibility and not my domain, even for cleaning. So, generally, the dust piles up, socks can get lost under furniture and his mini fridge is untouched by the magic scrub brush. It is his. He takes pride in the fact that I respect his space. Once a month, or so, I see him hauling trash out and he asked me for a broom and dustpan last year. I'm proud of him for taking that responsibility for himself. He even washed the slipcover from his recliner last summer. 

As difficult as it is for me to keep the vacuum cleaner at bay. I don't enter the place of solace he so dearly loves. I never mention the burning desire to clean that room. I try very hard not to suggest new wall decor or mention the fact that the curtains are sometimes pulled crooked.  

The contents of the man cave will not change my eternity. So, I just leave them to the master and his wisdom of the manly. I don't have the power to revoke his man card for a lack of spit spot on the windowsill. In fact, I don't think it is within my authority, to revoke a man card, at all. 

Aside from the need for a deep cleaning, I wondered what secrets the man cave held. Why was this room so private? Why did he need a room off limits from everyone, namely me?  I knew what was right in a room, what was acceptable as entertainment and basically, what should be done, and I was fully prepared to share that information with my darling. He wasn't interested, and the more I pushed for man-cave permission, the more he guarded his hideaway. 

I waited for my opportunity to enter, when I knew he wasn't home and couldn't catch me entering or exiting the passageway to all things masculine. As he pulled out of the driveway for a weekend hunting get-away, I gathered the courage to enter the realm of the unknown, mentally and emotionally prepared for whatever I might find. 

 I poked around the piles of hunting gear, fishing tackle, outdoor magazines, books about collectible cars and rebuilding engines. My eyes caught a glimpse of his Bible next to his recliner. It didn't take long for me to realize the only dirt I was going to find on my hubby, was the layer of dust on the contents of the man cave, the rings from glasses used sans coasters and the aluminum cans tumbling out of the recycle bin. (Wow, he has a recycle bin!) There was no mystery. There was no secret that needed to be exposed and no horrible private sin that needed to be corrected. I breathed a sigh of guilty relief and left the room - exactly as I found it. 

I walked around with a smile on my face, charmed by the complete innocence of the man cave. It was simply filled with the trappings of a man being a man. My smile faded when I realized I had not been Godly or loving in my desire to search the man cave. 

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

I was looking for a wrong that wasn't even there. I didn't give my husband the credit or respect to believe the best about him. I assumed, since he didn't want me to mess with his stuff, he had something to hide. He didn't. 

My take away from my minutes in the man cave will stay with me for the rest of my life. It is not my place to police my husband. I cannot see his heart, any more than I can see what is under the stacks of stuff he calls good. I cannot be his Holy Spirit and I cannot convict him of sin or errors in his heart or mind. It is simply not my job. I am called to be his partner, his help-mate. I am called to build him up, respect his authority and love him, unconditionally. His walk with the Lord may not always look like mine. The places he falls will be different than the places that make me stumble. But I don't have to tell him how hard he fell. He knows. I simply have to reach out to him with the love of Christ, and hold his hand while he brushes off the dust to take his next step forward. 

The man cave is one of my favorite rooms in our home. It brings me great joy, even though I never step inside without the invitation of the cave dweller. It is the place of solitude where my sweet husband finds rest and peace in the midst of a busy world.


*Check out my friend Lee Warren's blog, The Spiritual Man Cave!