We have heard stories or maybe even witnessed some of the astonishing feats of people trapped in horrible situations who choose to suffer personal injury to save themselves or the lives of others. It’s dormant and waiting to be exercised. Power that has been created within us, yet we have never accessed. The truth is, the great majority of us do have power that lies beneath the surface. Then, at last, it bursts forth in unrelenting splendor and accomplishes the impossible. It would be great to have superpowers bestowed upon us by some otherworldly force in the outer reaches of the universe, to be activated when we’ve reached the absolute end of our rope. We all want to believe we have this indomitable force within us like latent nitroglycerin just waiting to be shaken by someone who challenges us to perform. This was serious, because who wants to feel they don’t measure up? Who wants to face the truth that they can’t accomplish a certain thing or that they aren’t up to the task? And to accept this emasculating insult without some kind of bravado and male posturing would only further prove you deserved the insult in the first place. It meant you were not up for the challenge that you were an inferior or unimpressive person who simply did not have the nerve to face whatever imminent danger presented itself. The word “punk” meant you were not a real man, even at twelve years old. And you could never call any guy a “punk.” Not unless you were ready to seriously scrap. You could not disdainfully spout the words “Yo’ mama!” You could not double-dare anyone. While growing up in our small but tough Southern town, there were three things you couldn’t tell me or any of my friends without getting a quick and sometimes vicious reaction. After all, it was required to prove I wasn’t a punk! But in my defense, I bounced up and returned to the fight. My anger was unchecked, and it felt as if I could actually fly.Īctually, my anger was real, but the flying I imagined was me being tossed by Chucky over a barbed wire fence. Instantaneously, my hundred-pound frame grew to three times its size. After successfully making his shot, he brashly turned around, pushed me to the ground, and uttered the word that changed the game entirely.Īs the incendiary words dripped from his arrogant, curled lips, they seemed to ignite something in me. That is, until Chucky decided to further exert his dominance by using my feeble attempts to block to make a public spectacle out of me. It was like watching an advancing great white shark going after its prey, unaware that an annoying little suckerfish was attached to its fin, flailing about, trying to stop it. But then, it was a part of what we did as country kids.Īnd as quickly as I hit the ground, I bounced back up in his face, trying to block his shot. So knocking me literally on my butt in our pickup basketball game on the dusty homemade court was an easy feat. Chucky was easily twice my size and five years older with a mean streak as big as his protruding forehead. They know that Marriage Ain’t for Punks! Read ExcerptĪs a kid, I weighed barely a hundred pounds, dripping wet. Those with healthy marriages are not weaklings. A good relationship is about refusing to allow pettiness to destroy the loving connection that partners truly seek to find with each other. Even though some marriages look like a hot mess, don’t give up hope, because it is transparency, honesty, and downright fearlessness that make a great marriage. It’s a straightforward and unapologetic dive into why people fail or struggle at one of the most popular and sought-after unions in society. This book is a relationship game changer. Marriage is a bond that requires hard work from two people in order to achieve happiness-find all the tips and tools to a happily-ever-after, using the guidance of a trusted relationship expert.īeloved marriage counselor Pastor Cal Roberson captivates millions of viewers with his eccentric personality and unabashed yet effective marriage advice-and Marriage Ain’t for Punks is no different.
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