Skinny-Dipping

The river’s deep, the river’s wide, the river’s water is alive, so sink or swim, I’m diving in. Steven Curtis Chapman

There’s nothing like skinny-dipping to make a man wild at heart. It’s exhilarating to embrace life without clothes, to be naked so as to be completely open, honest, and vulnerable. And to do it with a group of buddies is even wilder still.

My skinny-dipping days are long gone but the memory of the thrill lingers to this day. Throwing modesty to the ground, a man can almost feel lawless as the bright sunlight bears down on a bare butt. A group of naked men creates its own unique esprit de corps that lays the foundation for a camaraderie that cannot be equaled by any other collection of men. Naked bondedness cements friendships in a way other shared experience cannot. Unrivaled in its mesmerizing power, skinny-dipping offers the chance for men to form a brotherhood of authenticity, where no one hides behind a mask or a cloak, but where everyone is seen for who he is.

Years ago, I attended a men’s weekend retreat that included a chance for the men to circle up nude around a large fire in the stillness of the midnight air. We told stories, we drummed, we danced, and we were as one in the moment of it all. Bodies of all shapes and endowments of all sizes mixed together without so much as an ounce of reluctance or regret. We were fearlessly shameless in our desire to be exposed to one another to fortify the truth that deep down we were all alike, men who needed more adventure out of life than simply living and working.

In the early morning, with only a few hours before dawn, the ecstasy of the moment was over and I returned to my cabin in a euphoria that cannot be described in words. I was a lion of a man, strong, courageous, and above all, free. It was as if Jesus had said to me, “I am the Lion of Judah, and you are the Lion of David.” I felt the freedom of unrestrained masculine expression with a small tribe of men who shared the same penchant for self-determination as I. We found the courage to define ourselves with only our bodies and without the use of resumes, designer suits, or bank account balances.

It’s my conviction that men just don’t get naked enough with other men. Perhaps it’s because the male body has become so eroticized that any degree of nudity is seen as immodest and immoral. Even at the gym one of my friends won’t even shower out in the open, communal shower, choosing instead to go home and freshen up. I’m not sure high school boys even take showers together anymore after PE classes or sports events. Men have become psychologically cloistered in their skin from fear of being naked in front of other men.

The same could be said about a man’s emotional wellbeing. Ask any man how he’s doing and he’ll say just fine. Every time. Even if his life is imploding all around him, he’ll still respond that life couldn’t get any better. It’s one thing to be physically nude, but it’s another to be naked at heart where everything true is revealed to another man. Such emotional honesty between men doesn’t happen. Try creating a brotherhood between men who aren’t open and vulnerable to one another. It’s impossible. Such shallow relationships are void of meaning and easily discarded. It should come as no surprise that the lonely American male is lonelier than ever before. We can’t be nude and we can’t be naked.

I’ve never been one to chat aimlessly with other men regardless of the topic. I’m not in to small talk of any kind. I’d rather bite into meatier things like answering the question who am I and why am I here, or talking about life’s struggles, or God and all the stuff He does in a given day, etcetera. Why talk about the mundane when there is so much more to talk about that is meaningful?

Most men fear getting naked with another man because they might be judged or rejected. Many assume that the battles they fight are theirs alone and that other men could never begin to relate to them. In fact, men share the same battles but we never talk about them. We pretend that life is fine and that we have not been wounded by anything. This is especially true for evangelical men, who in Christ have been thoroughly fixed so that nothing remains that needs to be righted or exposed. While this perception couldn’t be further from the truth, Christian men are still required to report that all is well with their souls.

What a dismal place to be! We flounder along like nothing’s wrong and masquerade our own form of manliness to convince everyone that we are strong and don’t need help. I wonder what it would look like if men found the courage to be open and honest with other men, so they could disclose the dark night that lives within. What kind of revolution would that approach to masculinity produce?

This is what I seek – skinny-dipping of the soul. (Although traditional skinny-dipping would be great, too!) But I cannot find this kind of meaningful engagement anywhere. In all fairness, I haven’t really tried that hard to find the kind of men I’m trying to find. I’m going only on hunches that I’ve formulated from decades of observation. Men hide under layers of veneer that are impenetrable. And if truth be told, all of us men go through life without ever letting anyone see the soul without so much as one layer of veneer.

The lie is that vulnerability leads to rejection and rejection can be very painful. What if the opposite were true? What if openness and vulnerability led to an understanding embrace with acceptance without stipulation and no judgment? What would masculinity look like then?

Yet the sin of pride keeps us all shackled. I remember a man who told me that if I really knew what was going on inside of him I’d run away and not look back. If I really knew his pain and his struggle I would think twice about seeing him really as he is rather than seeing him as I’ve always seen him.

And I suppose his fears are well grounded. Confronting truth can be hard and messy and unpredictable. Vulnerability can make someone lose their footing, and for a man that can be terribly embarrassing. It’s so much easier to lock down the soul and never let it see the light of day. Here I speak from experience. Skinny-dipping in the flesh is a momentary rush. Skinny-dipping of the soul is an intoxicating, life changing, forever jolt.