Something is definitely going on. It’s not something I ate. I had a normal breakfast this morning. Had my coffee, did whatever I need to do. But yet still, my stomach is making itself known.
It’s interesting how our brain is connected to our stomach, isn’t it? Not so much to tell us when we’re hungry, but…
I suspect it’s stress. Pressures from work. Lists of things to do. Reports to fill out at the beginning of the year — even though we’re already in the end of the first quarter.
It’s been busy. Lots of guests. It’s been wonderful. Lots of guests. But not a lot of time to do the administrative work that I need to do.
So today,
Tight. Stiff. Churning? Not so much.
But …
Maybe it’s more than that.
Maybe it’s my upcoming doctor’s visit. Not too serious. I don’t think. A ‘plumbing’ issue — But not, seemingly, something a plumber can fix or I’d go see a plumber. Probably cost the same. I don’t live in a universal healthcare country so it’s pay as you go.
Don’t think a plumber could help me.
But a urologist definitely can.
Nervous? Perhaps. Wondering? Perhaps.
My mind doesn’t seem too distressed, although in the back of it is my high school classmate, Isaac, who’s spent the last month in the hospital, dealing with a serious health issue.
I just turned 59. And apparently with that age comes a whole host of things that never seemed to bother me before.
I saw kids running in the street today … Carrying heavy stuff. Going along as if there’s no tomorrow. Energy. Exuberance. Joy.
None of the worries of the life ahead have reached them, yet.
Me …
I don’t run down the street carrying my garbage. I carry it carefully, so the bag doesn’t break, hoping that by the time I get to the end of my street, I’m not huffing and puffing too much.
It’s interesting how ‘athletics’ happen in our life. They happen when we’re younger. I was a track star after all. The fastest in any of the schools that I attended. Haven’t done that for a while. Turns out those schools were High Schools!
But yet it seems that athletics needs to reenter my life.
I need to return to a love of … running … ? jogging … ? walking … ? pedalling … ?
Something.
Because without that, I won’t be prepared to enter the next phase of my life.
And maybe with that, will come an ease to the tightness … the stiffness … the churning.
Is my stomach letting me know things need to change?
My stomach talks to me a lot. In fact that’s one of the ways I know if I’m making the right or wrong decision.
My stomach’s never wrong. It talks to me all the time. ‘You don’t want to go tree planting? Well, I think that you need to!’ ‘You don’t know if you love her or not? Well I think that you do!’ ‘You don’t want to be vulnerable worshipping with strangers? Well I think that you need to!’ Always talking. Always right.
How does my stomach know when my brain doesn’t?
So, what if my stomach isn’t telling me about my stress level or my upcoming checkup? What if it’s trying to help me make a decision? What is it? I wonder.
Stand up? Sit down? Enter? Do not enter? Go faster? Go slower? Stop doing this? Start doing that?
Tight? Stiff? Churning? Not so much.
Just talking to me.
I wrote the first draft of this spoken-word poem on March 11, 2026, shortly after one of my first check ups. It turns out it wasn’t just a plumbing issue. You can read more about that here.
The words starkly written on the page. A simple truth. Not even that. An adjective? A description? A mere boilerplate response?
But more than that, an invitation to ask: “Who’s that?” and “How did I get here?”
59-year-old?
Aren’t I still that small little kid tricked into a dumpster by a friend who then ridiculed me?
Aren’t I still that small little kid sitting in a new Grade 2 classroom
knowing no one
watching them watch me
having left the world I knew
for one I didn’t understand
Aren’t I still that teenager afraid to look girls in the eye? Giving guttural responses? Grunting rather than talking?
Aren’t I still that college student who once opened a church service with “closing prayer”?
But now, apparently, “a lovely 59-year-old man.”
Man.
Man?
“Give your ticket to the man,” she told her kid. I looked around before realising that I am the man she was referencing.
A man with opinions.
Hidden ones.
Quiet ones.
Opinions about family.
Church.
God.
People.
Politics.
The world.
All trapped inside.
A preacher’s kid
A missionary kid
A churchgoer
A theology buff
A husband
A father
A pastor
A professor
A student
A foreigner
An insider-outsider-insider. One minute in the know, the next, ignorant. One minute accepted, the next, a stranger. One minute an informant, the next, the informed.
Sometimes, regrettably, a bully. Reactive. Speaking before listening. Being superior. Smarter. More educated — at least in my own mind. Forgive me.
Not a risk-taker, yet risked moving his family across the world. Not a shot-taker, yet landed the best possible wife. Not often out on a limb, yet managed two construction projects with no engineering experience.
Someone who once studied, got kicked out, went back again, graduated, enrolled again, graduated, enrolled again, graduated?
But now, apparently, “a lovely 59-year-old man.”
Lovely?
Me?
The one still afraid? The one still unsure? Who’s rude … who’s abrupt … who doesn’t really do smalltalk?
Lovely?
Him?
But then again, I see messages of love all around me. Messages those close have given me. Things they have said to me. Plaques. Trophies. Wallhangings. Medals. Words spoken aloud through a microphone. Words whispered in my ear. Text messages late at night.
Maybe people see me in ways I don’t see myself.
Maybe I am “a lovely 59-year-old man.”
Photo from my own personal collection. Outfit courtesy of Eva.
I was watching a couple of videos the other day on Instagram, trying to recover and rest a little bit. I had just been very tired, and I was sitting in my chair in the living room watching some videos.
I came across a clip that has been with me since I watched it. Take a look here:
“Be honest. Who do you call when you are at your lowest? Who is that one person?”
It was clip after clip of men saying, “Nobody.”
At first I got the impression that they say “nobody” because they’re being macho and they want to show that they’re tough — that they’re going to suck it all up and survive on their own. But then the video moves into a different aspect of the thing, because some of the men start saying things like:
“You mean I can talk to somebody? I can talk about this?”
Other men say things like:
“Nobody cares anyway, so why talk about it? Nobody cares. Nobody cares. Nobody cares.”
And it got me thinking about my own situation and my own life. I realized that I do have people to talk to.
I tend to be a pretty introspective guy — overthinking everything, thinking deeply about certain things, questioning my actions, mulling things over, going back over things I’ve done in my life and regretting them, and keeping my cards pretty close to my chest.
But I realized that even though I’m one of those kinds of guys — which some people might think is a traditional kind of man — I do have people that I talk to.
The People I Talk To
My wife, Eva
The number one person that I talk to in my life, and the one who has helped open me up to understanding who I am and trying to express my thoughts and my feelings, has been Eva.
Without my wife’s influence and impact in my life — without her experience of understanding what it means to be a person who understands their emotions, without her advice, and just telling stories — not telling me what to do but just sort of being who she is—I’ve realized that it’s OK for me to begin to talk about who I am and how I’m feeling about things.
I can basically talk to Eva about anything. Sometimes she pushes back. Sometimes she commiserates. Sometimes she just listens. She is truly the life partner that God intended for me — an ezer — an equal image bearer.
But it’s always a safe space.
My Dad & Mom
One of my biggest supporters through life has been my dad. He has modeled what it means to be a man of God. He has taught me through words and deeds what it means. He and I have spent many hours discussing and exploring pastoral ministry, theology, biblical studies, cultural studies, and leadership. To have a father like him has truly been a blessing.
My mother exemplifies a life lived in the presence of God — a trait she gets from her mother. She always reminds me that God is in control and that God has a plan and that we don’t need to worry here on this earth. But lest you think that she is only concerned about the hereafter, she has a deep ability to connect with people in a caring and genuine way. I am still learning how to do this from her today.
My Closest Friends
I also have a group of friends that I talk to. I have guys such as Steve and Jack and Terry and Cesar and Craig, and we can just talk about anything.
We can discuss and debate deeply spiritual and theological things. We can explore things together. We can even talk about aspects of theology and life that might be slightly divergent or otherwise, without any judgment or threat, but just working through issues together.
I really appreciate having these men as my safe space.
My Therapist
I also have a therapist. I talk with Charles periodically when I’m needing to understand something about life, administration, leadership, management, something about who I am, something about how to live my life well in the world today.
Charles has been a tremendous help to me in understanding things and helping me see different perspectives.
He is a safe space for me.
My Spiritual Director
I also have a spiritual director. Len and I have been working together for the past year, and we continue to do that.
It’s an opportunity for me to receive some spiritual input and direction or some spiritual guidance into my life to help guide me in where I am and who I should be.
Another example of a safe space.
The Barriers Men Face
In looking at this list of people, I’m as surprised as you are to see so many people on it. This was not something that I started out intentionally forming. It’s something that has developed over a number of years. Because, let’s face it, there are a lot of hindrances to forming these types of relationships, aren’t there? And it takes time to overcome these hindrances. Let’s talk about three of them:
Shyness or personality. I am a shy guy. So shy in fact that I have made that a part of my identity. I recall years ago not even being able to look at a girl in the eyes nor to be able to answer strangers with more than a guttural grunt. And public speaking? Forget about it! Now, thanks to what I can only describe as God changing me, I no longer have a fear of public speaking (but am still petrified if I have to talk with someone one-on-one). However, finding friends who are willing to take up the heavy lifting of moving the conversation along really helps with this.
Shame. There is sometimes shame attached to expressing our feelings, particularly as men. We may have been told what a “real man” does and sharing feelings isn’t generally on the list. The only legit feeling that we as men can sometimes express is anger. And crying? That disqualifies us in some eyes! I remember how it made me feel when my son, Daniel, mentioned that he had never seen me cry. I don’t remember intentionally not crying in his presence but it was important for him to know that I do cry sometimes. I had a chance at the farewell we had for him before he moved to Canada after High School. I have been blessed by men who have modeled a different kind of masculinity that allows me to make my identity my own.
Previous bad experiences and a belief that others don’t care. It struck me while reflecting on the video that when we say, “No one cares,” it means that we have tried and it hasn’t worked out. We have tried opening up but no one responded appropriately — sometimes it only takes one attempt to make us gun shy. I remember one ski trip in college, when I decided to engage in small talk with someone I had known for years. I said something along the lines of, “So how is the skiing?” Her response? “Mike is on the prowl!” Her misunderstanding of my intentions, and her rejection, just shut me down. Needless to say I never talked with that person again.
These hindrances introduce risk into our lives because in each situation where we may need help, we weigh the risks associated with asking. It takes a special strength, I think, to risk everything in the hopes for a great reward.
All it apparently takes is 400 Hours
So, what made it work for me? What makes my response to the videos question different? According to my spiritual director it’s 400 hours. He says that if we spend 400 hours with people we develop relationships deep enough to matter. But it happens in stages from acquaintances (40-150 people we know on a surface level), to casual friends (after 80-110 hours), and finally close friends after 300-400 hours.
Apparently I have been able to invest at least 400 hours in my relationships. Now granted, I may have different exposure than some of you. My role as a church leader exposes me to people across Canada and throughout the Philippines. Part of that means I have spent significant time with people over coffee, during meals, in their homes overnight, and in meetings.
Not all of my relationships have turned out well. In fact, some of the people that I have engaged with over the last number of years have not turned out to be on my side, but rather stand in opposition. So it hasn’t been easy — and the pain from those experiences haunts me to this day.
Some of the people I know I’ve met through my ministry with the church. Some are people with whom I share my life. Others I met back in school. Others have become friends over many years of connection.
As I said above, I’ve considered myself shy for my entire life. I don’t often jump into situations with a willing vulnerability—or at least that has traditionally been the case. I tend to be the listener in most situations rather than the talker. But connecting through school, church, and work has been good for me. But in spite of all of my own limitations, I now realise that the process from moving from acquaintance to friend happens without realising it.
400 Hours is Risk, & Risk is risky!
But apart from that, it all changed for me when I took the risk of trusting someone else.
The problem is that introducing my authentic self to others is scary. What if I open up and people laugh at me? What if people take my vulnerability and use it against me? We see these types of answers in the video above.
Risk is risky. But it’s what we like to do, isn’t it? Whether it’s driving fast, shooting whitewater, solo camping, bungee jumping, riding roller coasters, asking a girl on a date for the first time — risk describes what men do.
What makes risk worth it? The reward! We win the race, we get wet but don’t dump in the middle, we learn to rely on ourselves, we face our fears, we realise life is sometimes scary but that’s okay, we meet the love of our lives. We find someone we can call when we are at our lowest.
So, what do I do? I don’t feel like I have 400 hours! I also don’t have a huge pile of people to choose from. I don’t feel connected with the guys at work. I have problems with some family. I even have my doubts about church. What can I do?
Start a conversation. Have coffee with an acquaintance. Take the risk. Turn an acquaintance into a friend. Be vulnerable.
Becoming That Person for Others
When I listened to the video, I was sad for all of these men who don’t have what I have.
But I was also encouraged in realizing that I do have people that I can talk to — people who come alongside me and encourage me.
And it also encourages me to be that way for other people as well.
I do have a group of young men in my church whom I am mentoring. They’ve all expressed a desire to be involved in some kind of pastoral ministry, whether that’s on a full-time basis or not.
I also spend time regularly talking with a young pastor in Canada about life and ministry and doing some spiritual direction.
As I sit here writing this I find myself just as surprised as I was at seeing the video that started all this introspection! My surprise centres on the fact that I do have a support system, I do have an answer to the question posed in the video: “Be honest. Who do you call when you are at your lowest? Who is that one person?” I am glad that I don’t have to do this alone.
A Question for You
So my question for you today is this:
Who do you go to when you need to talk to somebody?
Who do you go to when you need advice?
Who helps you become a better man — or a better woman?
Michael J. Fast 