One of my favorite movies (I should say one of my favorite stories, because the book The Man-Eaters of Tsavo and Other East African Adventures is the actual firsthand account, and is much better than the movie [and the movie was awesome])  is The Ghost and the Darkness, based on the true story of Col. J.H. Patterson's hunt for two seemingly supernatural man-eating lions, who terrorized his railroad camp for nine months in 1898.  The meat of the movie, in my view, is the relationship between Patterson and the fictional character Remington, a world-renowned hunter who comes to help Patterson sort out the trouble with the lions.  Remington arrives just when Patterson's world seems to be crumbling around him, and the two of them encourage, strengthen, and sharpen each other.  It's a great commentary on being a man, as Patterson faces pressures and criticisms from all directions, but when the rubber meets the road, it's just the two men on the ground getting it done, running ideas by each other, and putting it all on the line, because if they don't, then who will?

There comes a time in the story when Patterson makes a mistake and it almost costs him his life.  Gentlemen, we've all been there to some degree.  We've lived long enough that we've probably have had a close call with death.  It's even more traumatic when we realize that our mistakes could have put one of our children in harm's way.  Everyone who has had children knows that sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach when the realization hits that one of them is missing.  It rattles our souls.  The thought of it makes us sick.  It dominates our thoughts.  We don't care about anything except making sure that it never happens again.  Once Patterson survived his mistake, Remington said what his friend needed to hear:  "We have an expression in prize fighting:  'Everyone has a plan until they've been hit.'  Well my friend, you've just been hit.  The getting up is up to you."  (Fun fact:  Michael Douglass, who played Remington and talked about "getting up", also starred in the movie Falling Down.)  

I won't lie to you and pretend that getting up is easy.  As fathers, we have a grave responsibility.  In fact, we have many.  We have to begin by acknowledging that we have failed.  It will take humility and honesty, both of which our culture discourages.  That's okay.  They're not the ones who have to live with what we do.  We have to learn.  I love how, in Psalm 25, David doesn't just ask forgiveness, but he also prays:  "Show me Your ways, O Lord; Teach me Your paths.  Lead me in Your truth and teach me, For You are the God of my salvation:  on You I wait all the day" (Psalm 25:4-5).  That's what repentance sounds like.  And then, we get up.  The child of God getting up, wiping off the blood, and getting back into the fight is our enemy's worst fear.  And to our families, who depend on us, it's beautiful.  It restores their hope.  They need to know that Daddy can take a punch, that he won't quit, and he won't bail.  On the absolute and final authority of the Word of the one God, if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed (John 8:36), and no one will snatch us out of His hand (John 10:28).