I want to treat 'em the way John Wayne did.
Stare 'em down.
Biff-pow-smack.
Stand over 'em lying there on the ground.
Deliver a great memorable line worthy of a YouTube clip.
Then slowly turn, (to get that iconic profile shot), and saunter off into the sunset.
The Duke.
He embodied the American idea of manhood, at least back when I was growing up.
Stand your ground.
Don't take any poo-doo.
Be your own man.
And, oh mama, that is sooo wrong.
Even now, I fall back into that mindset.
Especially when I think my "rights" have been violated.
When I feel I've been wronged.
The greatest Man to ever live didn't claim His rights.
He wasn't even His own man.
He was the Father's man.
And He took a lot worse than poo-doo.
And in that last 24 hours,
Badly.
And He could've made them pay. Painfully. Horribly.
But He didn't.
They taunted Him to come down off of there and THEN they'd believe.
They pointed and jeered.
Laughed as He was dying.
Bullying a dead man.
All the while not realizing the incredible thing He was doing,
what the Father was doing through Him.
Because He loved them so much,
He wasn't His own man.
He gave His rights to the Father
so we could be made right with the Father.
There's an urban legend that Martin Luther sat down at sunrise on a Good Friday morning.
He sat there, deep in thought, all day.
Finally, as the sun was setting, he stood up with a look of incredulous awe on his face.
"God forsaking God."
Still in awe, he walked away, shaking his head in amazement.
Giving up His rights.
Yeah.
I liked the Duke.
But I really wanna be like the King.